Oliver blinked rapidly. “Of course. I just… It’s our wedding and I think it’s important that neither of us look back on it with any regrets.”
“Believe me, we’d both regret inviting Jon Fleming big time.”
“I’m sure we would have. I think I meant more…in general.”
“I’ve also come to terms with not having a DJ.”
He gave the sort of smile you gave because it was expected rather than because you really felt like smiling. “And have you also come to terms with…”
“The venue?” I asked. “No balloon arch?”
“It’s more everything the balloon arch represents.”
Oh no. We were back here again. Did we have to be back here again? “At this point, Oliver, I don’t even know what the balloon arch represents. Except for trapped air and arguments.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” he said. “And do you think it might represent, well, this?”
He passed his phone across the table, which was open at Bridge’s Instagram feed. And while the three most recent pictures were the book she was currently reading, her brunch, and a house in Knightsbridge with a pink door, there were about twenty shots from my non-gender-specific animal party. A lot of which were me. A fair few of which were me and Tyler.
I glanced from the phone to Oliver to the phone again. Surely he didn’t— Fuck.
A biley panic was rising up my throat. “Listen, that was just a guy I met at the party. And we were having fun and he knew I was engaged and I went home alo—”
“I know, Lucien. And I trust you. I wouldn’t be marrying you if I didn’t trust you.”
Okay. Phew. That was all very reassuring.
What was less reassuring was that he kept speaking. “It’s just…
you looked happy.”
“I…what?”
While I was working on a more substantial reply, the waiter showed with a very large jug of water. “Are you ready to order?” he asked.
Which sent me into a different kind of panic because I hadn’t looked at the menu, and I couldn’t ever hear “are you ready to order”
without wanting to stick “and if not, why not” on the end.
Oliver, of course, had his neuroses in different places. “A few more minutes, thank you.”
Clearly, I needed to loop us back to the you-looked-happy thing.
But I wasn’t sure I wanted to because it could only really mean two things. Either it meant that my boyfriend-soon-to-be-husband straight up resented my happiness, which sucked, or it meant he thought I couldn’t be happy with him, which sucked worse. So instead I fluttered my lashes at him in a blatant attempt at distraction and segued into: “Do you want to order for me?”
He twitched an eyebrow. “If you like, although it will include the eel sandwich again, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re deflecting.”
“How about,” I suggested, “I deflect for now and when I’ve been fortified with an eel sandwich we can, you know, have a serious conversation sort of thing.”
“Very well.” Oliver disappeared behind his menu with an eagerness that I hoped was about his love of the food, not his desire to avoid talking.
I peeped over the top, trying to get him to look at me. “I’m happy to eat vegan with you.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“No, but I can.”
“Do you want to?” he asked in a way that I thought had layers.
This was so typical of At-The-Moment Oliver. I’d deflected, he’d accepted the deflect and was now getting around it anyway. “That’s not a fair question. You don’t want to either, but you do it because you think it’s right. And I think you’re usually right about what’s right… I just have crappy follow-through.”
“You know I don’t like imposing my values on other people.”
Fuck, this was still a metaphor, wasn’t it? I was too hungover for metaphors. “It’s not about imposing your values. But we’ve been together for a long time and people change each other and that’s normal. And, unless the people are arseholes, good.” I gulped down my third glass of water. “I’m never going to be a vegan the way you’re a vegan. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to feel I’m missing out if we go to a nice restaurant and I sometimes choose to have the salad.”
He seemed, at least, to be thinking about it. And when he asked, “And are you in a salad mood tonight?” I was ninety percent certain he was talking about the food.