Husband Material (London Calling #2)(2)

As one, the guests gasped.

“Luc,” cried James Royce-Royce. “No. Not a table lamp.”

“Shut up,” I responded very maturely.

Priya nodded gravely. “Yeah, he and Oliver are getting into raw, hard-core table lamping.”

“Shut up,” I responded very maturely.

“They’re at it,” she went on, “nearly every weekend. In every room. On every table.”

“It was one table.” I waved my hands despairingly. “One time.”

Peering archly over his martini glass, James Royce-Royce raised an eyebrow. “That’s how it starts. But before you know it, you’ll be getting into the really kinky stuff like uplighters.”

“No uplighters!” I yelled. Though Oliver had suggested that one would do wonders for the living area in my flat.

“I do hope,” said Peter, “that you’re at least using surge protection.”

I stood in a way that I hoped was decisive, not huffy. “I hate you all. Does anyone want another drink?”

Thankfully, most tails were already cocked, but a couple of Bridge’s work friends called for a round of cosmos. Cosmoi? On the way to the bar, I checked my phone to see if my amazing barrister boyfriend was actually going to show up.

I’m so sorry, he’d texted. Snowed under at work. I’ll be with you as soon as possible.

I’m so sorry, he’d texted again. I can’t get away quite yet.

I’m so sorry, he’d texted again again. I’ll be leaving in ten minutes.

And then: Please don’t worry. Everything is fine and I’m definitely going to be on my way soon.

Then: I’m sure you’ve thrown a wonderful party.

Then: I realise this is substandard boyfriending. I’ll make it up to you and to Bridget somehow.

Then: Leaving now. With you in twenty minutes.

Then: Traffic worse than expected. Sorry.

This was so typically Oliver. I was mildly annoyed that he wasn’t here. But his panicked texting was also weirdly endearing and I was in love with him. So fuck.

I was just in the middle of composing a playfully frustrated yet reassuring reply when I walked straight into the back of a solid wall of couple.

“Shit.” My thumb slipped, and I accidentally sent Oliver a string of nonsense. “Sorry. I wasn’t—”

And then my fucking ex turned round. The worst part about it was that for a tiny fraction of a second, before my head started to spin and my throat started to fill with imaginary frogs, I was almost pleased to see him. Because we’d been together for five years, and the bit of my brain that had got used to being in love with him hadn’t quite caught up with the whole he’s-a-traitorous-fuckface angle.

“Oh my God,” said the man who I’d once thought ruined my life.

“Luc.”

“Miles,” I yelped. “It’s been ages.” Ages since you sold the intimate details of our relationship to a tabloid for fifty grand. But I smiled anyway because he didn’t deserve my emotional authenticity.

He, on the other hand, smiled like he was genuinely happy we’d run into each other. He’d always had a knockout smile, and his new immaculately groomed beard only made it knockoutier. Prick, prick, total prick. “Hasn’t it?” He turned to the implausibly perfect-looking young man by his side, a vision in glitter and rainbows. “JoJo this is Luc, Luc this is JoJo.”

“Hi.” JoJo stood on tiptoes to kiss me on both cheeks. “So how do you know Miles?”

Had he not even mentioned me? Then again, how would you?

By the way, darling, you should know that my last relationship ended because I totally fucked the guy over? “Oh, we…we used to date.”

Miles had circled around and was standing very close to me now. And he’d put a hand on the small of my back in a way that was one part friendly, one part possessive. “Crazy times, right, Luc? And we’ve got so much catching up to do. Do you want to join us for a drink?”

Even if I hadn’t needed to get back to Bridge’s party, that would have ranked pretty low on my things-I-want-to-do list, somewhere between getting my eyebrows burned off with a chef’s blowtorch and spending a weekend in a bath full of dead squid. “I’d love to,” I said, “but I’m actually really busy right now. Bridge is getting married and she’s made me her maid of honour and my boyfriend is going to show up any minute—” The moment I mentioned Oliver, I realised how pathetic I sounded. I might as well have come straight out and added, But you wouldn’t know him because he goes to a different school.

“Oh, you’re still friends with Bridge?” said Miles. “Cool. I know you two always had that—y’know—that nineties gay-best-friend thing going on.”

Was he serious? Was he fucking serious? “I’m not sure I’d put it quite…”

“And on the subject of weddings”—JoJo was beaming like a cartoon sun—“can I tell him?”

Miles kissed his boyfriend on the top of his tiny head. “I think you’re going to have to now.”

“We’re getting married!”

I looked down at JoJo’s outstretched hand, and sure enough, there was a sparkling band of diamonds, chosen with way more taste than I would ever have had and, honestly, way more taste than I would have expected Miles to have. Maybe he’d bought it with the money he got for selling me out. “Oh,” I said, and then, realising that he was probably expecting a slightly bigger reaction, I added, “Congratulations.”