Felix and the Prince (Forever Wilde 2)

The thought of things not working out made my stomach turn. Regardless, Hen was right.

“Okay. Yes. As much as it pains me to admit, dear one, you are right. I’m going to talk to Milane.” I turned to walk to the door of her apartment when she stopped me and threw herself into my arms.

“I’m so proud of you, Lio,” she said thickly into my necktie. “I love you. When you’re ready to fly to Texas, I’m there.”

“Thank you for helping me see reason, Hen. He needs to know how much I love him, but he doesn’t need to feel responsible for what’s going to happen when I come out.”

After dropping a kiss in her coconut-scented hair, I turned and left her residence, making my way down the long halls until I arrived at my own office. I’d learned early on that the king did not just turn up in his employees’ offices unannounced without causing massive stress and chaos.

“Oh good, Lucas, you’re still here. Please ask Milane to come see me as soon as she’s free, and when she arrives, come in with her. It’s going to be a long night.”

I didn’t wait for an answer before striding through to my private office. Lucas had made it very clear that for this first year of my reign, his time was mine, however much I needed it to be. We both knew that the long nights and weekend work would be frequent, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad he was single. I didn’t feel quite so guilty about keeping him at the office so late.

Once both of them were seated comfortably across the desk from me, I began.

Chapter 40

Felix

Once I returned home to Hobie, I hid myself away in the glass workshop on the ranch. Whenever one of my family members expressed concern about my solitude, I explained I was practicing the new techniques I’d learned at Gadleigh.

And that was the truth.

But not all of it. Mostly, I wanted to be alone with my thoughts so I could feel sorry for myself in private. I spent hours reliving my time at Gadleigh with Lio. Every touch, every kiss, every shared childhood story or debated item in the news played back through my mind like a highlight reel of our time together.

When I wasn’t remembering Lio, I was concentrating on creating the most beautiful, unique glass I could. I wanted to show my grandfathers that I’d done my time at Gadleigh proud, that the money they’d invested to enrich my education specialty had helped me come away a better glassmaker than I’d left here.

I perfected the technique used in making the knotted puzzle ornaments and created a stash to save for special occasions in the coming year. Once finished with that, I played around with some of the other advanced maneuvers to work on my own original pieces. I was proud of the work I was doing even though my dedication to the studio was keeping me away from my family.

Finally my cousin Saint called me on it one Sunday morning just before lunchtime. It was early spring, and the day was warm with a cool breeze blowing across the ranch.

“Get the fuck in the house, we’re here for an intervention,” he barked. I could immediately see how he’d succeeded as a Navy SEAL and wondered if maybe they wanted him back. We needed another bossy Wilde man around the ranch like a hole in the head.

“West says Wildes don’t do interventions,” I snapped. “Which means it’s a love posse. Which is like fifty thousand times worse.”

“Yeah, well, whatever it is, it’s happening. Get your ass in the house.”

I reluctantly turned off the gas to the furnace and tidied up my studio before closing it down for the day. There was no doubt that if the Wildes had come to have words, I would not be returning to my hiding place anytime soon.

After trudging across the narrow gravel lane toward the old farmhouse, I noticed the familiar vehicles of more than just the Hobie Wildes. The Dallas Wildes were there too, which meant this really was a love posse.

I hated those fuckers and their stupid-assed unconditional love. Every once in a while it would be nice to be neglected and ignored. Left to rot out in some shed somewhere with only a fire to keep me warm and bits of broken glass littering the floor…

I sighed. I wouldn’t make a good Oliver Twist.

As I entered the house and made a beeline toward the big farmhouse sink in the kitchen, I ignored the loud hubbub of the extended family. Two of my aunts were there and what seemed like all ten of what we called the “Canadian” siblings—Hudson, West, Saint, et al. Even Winnie was there and she hated emotional shit.