Page 141 of Boyfriend Material
“Of course we didn’t get on at first, because anybody who knows Miriam knows that she’s—shall we say—a woman of strong opinions. But she soon warmed to me once I started pretending to agree with her about everything.”
Another round of polite laughter. I thought Uncle Jim might actually piss himself.
“Over our forty years of marriage, we’ve been blessed with two wonderful sons—”
“And Oliver and Christopher,” I murmured under my breath.
“—and Oliver and Christopher. But, seriously, we’re tremendously proud of both our boys, one a doctor, one a lawyer, but somehow neither of them making any bloody money.”
Laughter again. Uncle Jim literally slapped his thigh.
“Over the years our family has continued to grow, our most recent addition being the lovely Mia, Christopher’s wife, and also our last best hope for grandchildren on account of Oliver being a screaming bender.”
I stifled a sigh. You see, it’s okay because it’s theironickind of homophobia.
“But enough about the boys,” David went on. “Because today is about Miriam and myself. And I, for one, couldn’t ask for a more beautiful wife. I mean, I could ask, but I probably wouldn’t get one.” He lofted a glass. “To Miriam.”
We obedientlyMiriamed back.
“To David.” Miriam’s speech at least had the virtue of being short.
“To David,” we echoed.
While I put an arm around Oliver and looked for a hole we could hide in.
Chapter 46
The afternoon, well, it happened, dragging itself along like a dog with worms. I handled it by standing meekly at Oliver’s side while he made polite small talk with various friends and relatives. It was boring as fuck but it would have been okay if I hadn’t also had to watch him getting quieter and smaller with every conversation. Maybe I’d had too much champagne but, honestly, it felt like losing him. And all I wanted was to get him back home where he could be prissy or grumpy or funny or secretly wicked. Where he could be my Oliver again.
Eventually, we ended up back on the patio. Miriam and David were holding court from a set of fancy garden furniture, and Oliver and Christopher had just presented them with their joint anniversary gift—a pair of ruby earrings for her, a pair of ruby cuff links for him, which had been offered with an awkward sense of obligation and received with complacent gratitude. Fun times.
“Oliver, darling.” Miriam patted the space beside her. “It’s so nice to be able to catch up.” She glanced to Uncle Jim who, somehow, contrived to always fucking be there. “He hardly speaks to us, you know. At least with Christopher it’s because you know he’s saving babies in some dreadful malaria-ridden swamp.”
Oliver settled in beside her. There was nowhere for me, of course, so I perched on the arm, which drew me an immediate look of disapproval. I briefly considered getting up out of respect, but I’d been on the fast lane tofuck itall afternoon and had just crossed the border.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” he said. “I know I’m not saving babies, but I have had rather a lot going on.”
Miriam’s eyes alighted on me very briefly, and then skittered away. “So I see. What happened to the other fellow?”
“Andrew and I broke up.”
“Shame. He seemed like such a nice young man.”
“It wasn’t working out.”
“I suppose”—she paused frankly indelicately—“it’s more difficult in your situation. I mean, you have to be so careful.”
“I’m…I’m not sure that’s entirely the case.”
“You know best, darling.” Apparently it was time for a knee pat. “I just worry because I’m your mother. And you see such horrible stories in the newspapers.”
“I’m fine. Really. I think Lucien’s been good for me.”
“You look very tired.”
Yeah, that would be because he hardly slept last night. In the boring tossing, turning, going for a run at 3:00 a.m. way. Rather than the exciting doing sexy things way.
“I told you”—a line had appeared between Oliver’s brows—“I’m fine.”
