Page 24 of Commitment Issues
“What? I don’t understand. I mean, they’re the grooms, so shouldn’t you say something beforehand? It doesn’t seem right.”
“In other words, it’s deceptive. I can completely understand why you think that and, yes, it is. But they’ll have enough to think about with the wedding, without landing them with our secret. If they don’t know, they can’t slip up.” He shrugs. “It’s not ideal, but if I say anything beforehand, it’ll find its way to Gavin, not through Andrew but Marcus. If that happens, it takes away the whole reason for doing what we’re doing.”
“I suppose, if you put it like that…” It makes sense, it’s pragmatic. He’s right, if anybody found out, it’d take away the reason for me going with him. And I want to go, I want to go for Elliot and for myself. “Okay, then. And yes, keeping it simple is best. I’d, erm, prefer to say I’m a student if I have to say anything, otherwise I’m likely to forget my lines.”
“If that’s what makes you feel better, then I’m more than happy with that. The main thing is that you look good hanging off my arm, and what we’ve bought today will ensure that. Not that you don’t already, look good, I mean,” he adds, the words rushing from him. A light flush flares beneath the olive of his skin, and his gaze darts away, almost as though he’s shy.
Neither of us says anything for a moment, and relief blooms in me when Jasper totters over and throws himself at my feet and offers himself up for a rub.
“I’ll make some more tea,” Elliot says, clearing his throat, and I nod so hard it must look like I’m having a seizure.
“Who and what were you before you became a Viking expert?” he asks when he hands me a fresh mug a couple or so minutes later, the skin around his eyes crinkling in good humour.
“There’s more to Norse Studies than hairy, marauding Vikings, you know.”
“Really?” His brows arch. He’s having fun, but I know it’s not at my expense.
“Hmm, no, not really, if I’m honest.”
“You don’t believe that, and nor do I. I saw that documentary, remember?”
And it’s back, that bright carefree smile that seems to light him up from the inside out, a smile I want to see more of. We’re staring at each other, neither of us speaking, everything around us quiet, expectant, yet tingling with a low buzz of electricity. I jump at Jasper’s sudden, strangled bark as he scrambles up and weaves his way to his basket.
“Oh, erm, me,” I say, trying to untie my jumbled thoughts. “Parents, one brother, two sisters. Back in Suffolk, where I grew up.”
“A country boy, then?”
“Coastal. The family home’s on the edge of a tiny village, just across the road from the sea and a shingle beach that goes on for miles.”
“It sounds like you miss it.” Again that tilt of his head, that assessing gaze.
“I do. We’re a close family and I don’t ever seem to get home often enough, or for as long as I’d like. I love living in London, and I suspect if I had to spend more than a week or two back in the village I’d be pulling my hair out, but sometimes I miss the big sky and the flat, wide open expanse where I can really and truly breathe.”
I look down, feeling almost exposed and I don’t know why. It’s his soft, quiet voice that brings me back.
“I know exactly what you mean. In the school holidays, we’d go and stay with my great aunt in Devon, and the sense of freedom… It was something that never left me.” His smile’s as soft as his voice, and whatever he’s remembering, it’s happy. “Anyway,” he says, coming back to the present. “What are you going to do after you finish your PhD?”
“A career in academia, or that’s the plan. It’s the main reason I do some work for my department, at university. But I’ve also got an application in for a placement at a specialist institute. There’s only a couple given out each year, and there’s a lot of competition. I’m really lucky they’re even considering my application, because normally you have to have completed, or be close to completing, your PhD, yet I’ve still got a good way to go with mine.”
Elliot’s looking hard at me, his gaze focused and intense, concentrating on every single word. He’s truly interested, I know he is, he’s not just asking out of polite interest. He makes me want to talk about my studies, plans, and ambitions when before I’d tucked it all out of sight so as not to endure Paul’s glazed eyes, stifled yawns, and bored shrug of the shoulders. But Elliot, little more than a stranger, a man I’ve known for barely more than a day, is showing more interest in me than Paul did in almost a year.
“Where—?”
“Oslo, at the Institute for Norse Studies. For some reason, they were late starting off the application process for this year’s intake. Ordinarily, I’d already know if I have a place, but I won’t find out until later in the summer, to start in mid-October. It’ll be a rush to get sorted out — if all goes well, that is.”
“Oslo?” he says, his brows arching. “I do a lot of business there. Too much, it feels like at the moment. I’m attempting to acquire a company there.” He doesn’t offer any more information so I don’t ask. “Do you speak Norwegian? Languages aren’t my forte, so it’s just as well the language of business is English, which I know sounds insular, but it’s the reality.”
“I’ve got a good working knowledge, because I had to take it as part of my first degree. It was tough, because I was learning from scratch, but English is the Institute’s joint official language. I’ll need to improve my Norwegian, though. So, you know the city, then?”
“Yes. It’s great, you’ll like it.”
“If I get a placement,” I remind him.
“Oh, I think you will.”
I go to say something, maybe to ask him about Oslo, I don’t really know, when his phone bleeps and he pulls it from his pocket.
“Damn, I’d forgotten about this. There’s a call I have to make, in about fifteen minutes. This is my reminder.” His lips curve downwards. He looks genuinely sorry, but he’s probably just being polite. After all, he’s spent all day with me.
