Oh fucking hell. He was really making this difficult. “Sorry, are you dumping me because I enjoyed going to a party at a queer gallery?”

“I’m not dumping you at all.” He picked up his fork, eyed his rotolo, and then put the fork down again. “I think what I’m doing is…is giving you a chance to dump me. If you… Now you…”

“Now I what?” I said, still at very much the wrong volume for this kind of restaurant.

There was a pause. Oliver was breathing in a very, very careful way. And his eyes had gone their flattest, coldest grey. “When we first met,” he went on doggedly, “you were, we were both, but you especially were…in rather a bad place. And, sometimes, the person you need to be with when you’re in a bad place isn’t the person you want to be with when you’re…when you’re not.”

My mouth literally fell open. Fortunately, I’d recently taken a sip of water, so it was empty. “What the fuck? Of all the things I’d expected to go wrong this evening, you going full I have healed you and now I set you free was not on the short list.”

“I don’t mean to…” Oliver broke off, looking embarrassed, as well he bloody well should. “That is…” He squirmed. Again, in a different context, it would have been cute. “I just saw the pictures of you looking happy and in your element, doing the sorts of things that, realistically, you’re not likely to do very much of with me. And I–I suppose I got in my head.”

“Too fucking right you did.” I kicked him under the table, entirely deliberately. “I look happy in those pictures because I’m at a party where I’m celebrating the fact that I’m getting married to the man I love. Who is you. You fool. You numpty. You absolute pillock.”

He was blushing now. Really blushing. “Yes. Well. I suppose when you put it like that, it does make sense.” Somehow, impossibly, the blush got deeper. “You…you’re a very entrancing man, Lucien. And you could be with someone equally entrancing, someone with whom your life could be interesting and glamorous. Instead of, I suppose, whatever I can offer you. Which is, by comparison, rather quiet and ordinary.”

My head was throbbing. I laid it momentarily on the table, which might have disrespectful to the restaurant dining experience, but I was having a feel. “For the record, and I can’t believe you’re making me say this, I’ve always found you pretty fucking entrancing.”

“Are you sure?” He gave a little cough. “Because, right now, I feel like someone you argue about napkins and DJs with.”