It was a bit like what he was doing. But Oliver had been seeing a trained professional for nearly two years because of his parents so I did my best to be sensitive and not poke anything that might be the emotional equivalent of a bear or a mine—or a bear-mine, which would be a bear that would maul you and then explode. I held my hands up in a don’t-maul-me-or-explode way. “All right. Just…this is supposed to be about our happiness. And so you need to think about…that. Instead of, you know, what your mum and dad will say.”

Some of the tension faded from Oliver’s jaw. “I will. Thank you.”

Well, that was super convincing. But I knew it was all I was going to get.

“In any case,” he went on, making a visible effort to smile, “I presume Odile was far more enthusiastic.”

Oh, fuck me with a rusty coat hanger. I’d somehow managed to not tell her. She was going to kill me. Oliver was going… Okay, he wouldn’t kill me. But he might take it as a bad sign, ring or no ring, that I’d forgotten to mention the most important thing in my life to the most important person in my life. Joint most important person. Second most important person?

“Yeah,” I overcompensated. “She was really excited.”

For whatever reason—presumably because he still had a head full of disapproval—Oliver didn’t notice that I was talking like I was reading cue cards. “I’m glad. I assume we’ll be seeing her tomorrow?”

Oh, fuck me with a rusty coat hanger covered in sriracha sauce. We saw Mum and Judy a couple of times a month, so I should probably have thought of that before pretending to Oliver that I’d told them something I hadn’t told them, and needed to tell them in person, and wouldn’t see them in person until I next saw them with Oliver.

And all I needed to have said was, Actually, I was waiting until we next went to visit so we could tell her together.

But instead I was starting my engagement drowning in lies.

Chapter 18

THE NEXT DAY WE WERE standing in Pucklethroop-in-the-Wold waiting for my mum to let us in, and I still hadn’t worked out what to do about the fact that I’d lied to Oliver.

The door opened. “‘Allô, Luc, mon—” was as far as Mum managed to get before I threw my arms around her.

“Mum!” I cried, then whispered, “Oliver and I are getting married, and he thinks I’ve already told you,” desperately into her ear.

She made an ah, I understand noise and, letting go of me, immediately embraced Oliver with a loud, “Congratulations on the wedding. I was so pleased to hear about it when Luc told me that it was happening, which he did several days ago.”

“Thank you, Odile,” said Oliver.