Boyfriend Material(129)

“No. I’m saying you might be irrelevant to one very specific set of decisions.”

“That’s not true,” protested Bridge loyally. “I’m sure Oliver wouldn’t have been looking for work on the other side of the country if he hadn’t broken up with Luc.”

I made a fuck-it-all gesture. “In any case, it doesn’t matter. I tried to do the big-gesture thing. And all I did was waste about ten hours of everybody’s time.”

“Time spent with friends,” opined James Royce-Royce, “is never wasted. And the beef was excellent, if a trifle under for my taste.”

Priya’s eyes flashed in the mirror. “My time’s been wasted. As has my petrol.”

“I’ll reimburse you for the petrol.”

“And what about the sex I could be having right now?”

“Well…” I blinked. “I’d reimburse you for that as well, but I’m not really qualified. This was your idea, Bridge. Over to you.”

She squeaked. “I don’t think I’m qualified either.”

“Yeah,” said Priya, “can we stop talking about my sexuality like it’s an entry level position at Deloitte?”

We apologised. After which, Bridge transitioned seamlessly back into my love life. “You’d better not be giving up, Luc.”

“He wouldn’t even answer my call.”

“Yes. That’s another good sign. If he didn’t care, he’d be fine to talk to you.”

“We’ve been through this. I didn’t know what I was going to say in a hotel in Durham. I don’t know what I’d have said if he’d answered the phone. And I’m not going to know what to say if I suddenly show up on his doorstep at ten o’clock at night.”

“Oh,” Bridge gasped. “That’s a wonderful idea. Priya, drive to Oliver’s house.”

Priya scowled again. “Sure. I’ll just type ‘Oliver’s house’ into my satnav, shall I?”

“It’s fine. I’ve got his address.”

“This is my truck. Not a fucking Uber.”

“Oliver didn’t like using Uber,” I heard myself say. “He thought their business practices were unethical.”

“Y’know what else is unethical?” Priya shot back. “Making your only South Asian friend drive you everywhere.”

“Ooh”—James Royce-Royce started—“I hadn’t thought about the optics of that. I could take a turn at the wheel if you’d like.”

Priya shook her head. “Nobody has sex in my truck but me. Nobody drives my truck but me.”

“Then stop complaining that we make you drive us places,” I complained.

“You could, for example, get your own cars.”

“With the congestion charge?” James Royce-Royce looked genuinely shocked. “And parking would be a nightmare. Besides, dear heart, you’re the one who chose a career carting scrap metal around.”

“I’m a sculptor, not a refuse collector.”

I closed my eyes. They could go on like this pretty much indefinitely. And I’d had, to put it mildly, a long day—made longer by its absolute futility. I mean, it was probably for the best that Oliver wasn’t randomly upending his entire life in a moment of…whatever it had been a moment of. And, actually, I’d had those kind of moments myself, and they were never a good sign. But, in terms of my relationship, fake or otherwise or lack thereof, it did leave me sort of nowhere. At least if we’d found Oliver in Durham, I could have been all “No, please don’t go, come back with me.” Whereas if I tried to talk him now, I’d just have be like “hi.” And I couldn’t quite see that being a love story for the ages.

Wow. This sucked.

Resting my head against the window, I let myself doze to the humming of the engine and the comforting white noise of my friends bickering.





Chapter 52


“We’re here.” Bridget poked me excitedly.

I rubbed my eyes, very glad to be home. “Thank fuck. I’m knackered.”

“I feel sooooo sorry for you,” drawled Priya. “Having to sleep in the back while I ferried you to and from Durham on a wild-goose chase.”

“Sorry. Sorry. Next time you have something heavy to lift, I’ll make far fewer excuses about helping you.” I plopped out of the truck, fumbling in my pocket for my keys. Then I realised I was in Clerkenwell. “Hey, wait. This isn’t where I live.”

Bridget yanked the door closed again and locked it before winding the window down just far enough that I could hear her. “No, this is Oliver’s. Don’t you remember? We said we’d take you here.”

Yes. Yes, they had. “I did not agree to this.”

“Tough. It’s for your own good. You’ll thank us when you’re eighty and have a million grandchildren.”

I banged on the side of the vehicle. “Let me in, you abject fuckers. This is not funny.”

Priya cracked the front window. “You’re right. It’s not. Hands off the paintwork.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I waved my arms, not quite daring to further risk Priya’s wrath. “I’m pretty sure this is legally kidnapping.”