Page 155 of The Unlikely Pair
When I return to the hall, most people have abandoned their seats and are milling around chatting. I scan the room, trying to locate Oliver among the sea of tuxedos and glittering gowns.
I finally spot him below the statues of the giants, Gog and Magog, who Callum explained earlier are the giants from legend who protect London’s residents from enemies.
But I don’t need protection from enemies right now. I need protection from myself.
I thread my way through the guests, my progress slowed by the occasional handshake or polite exchange of pleasantries. All the while, my gaze remains fixed on Oliver, who seems to have noticed my absence and is now watching me with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
When I finally reach him, he steps out of the group of people he’s talking to, his gaze meeting mine.
“That was a long time in the loo. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“So, what held you up?” he asks.
I can’t lie to Oliver directly. That would violate the years of friendship and trust between us.
“I just ran into Harry,” I say the words casually, like they are of no consequence.
Oliver raises an eyebrow. “Is that why your shirt is now buttoned incorrectly?”
I glance down in horror, only to discover my shirt is buttoned correctly.
I look up into Oliver’s knowing gaze.
“Thought so,” he says.
The truth sits between us like a heavy, tangible presence.
“Toby—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“Am I really about to get a lecture from you about the appropriateness of who I have sex with?” I ask archly. “Because that would be rather ironic, wouldn’t it?”
Oliver pauses, his eyes searching mine.
“No. You’re going to get a lecture from me about the appropriateness of who you’re handing your heart to,” he says finally.
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
I look down at the floor because I can’t meet Oliver’s gaze right now.
“Because it’s one thing for something to happen between you and Harry when you’re alone together in a survival situation. But if you’re continuing it now, that means it was more than just convenience,” he says in his typical Oliver way of cutting straight to the heart of the manner.
Harry’s voice from the other day echoes in my head.
It appears you are still a necessity.
“As much as I hate to admit it, Harry’s probably going to be the prime minister in a few months,” Oliver continues. “He’s also married. I know how hard it is to maintain a normal relationship as the prime minister, let alone a secret relationship with an opposition MP. I’m worried you’re going to get hurt.”
When I raise my gaze, Oliver’s face is a canvas of concern.
“And what if not being with him hurts me?” I ask in a low voice.
His concern is replaced by sympathy.
“Oh, Toby,” he says finally.
Chapter Forty-Five
