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“Maybe later,” Sam said, sounding muzzy with impending sleep.
All thoughts of worry and stress about the dissertation and defense drifting away, Oliver let the warm arms and gentle breath of Sam lull him to sleep.
Twenty-Six
Never in his life would Oliver have the sort of thrill he felt zinging up his spine when he burst out of the building where his father, sibling, and boyfriend waited. He had done well, only slipped a handful of times. The entire board treated him as a colleague rather than a person under extreme scrutiny, and he knew that he’d wowed them.
He was grinning wider than he ever had, his cheeks aching as he stumbled into Sam’s arms. His taller boyfriend lifted him by the waist, spinning him a little and sharing a kiss in spite of the audience. Oliver didn’t mind at all. The lips were warm and added to his feeling of success and triumph.
“So, I take it the whole thing went well?” Sam asked in his ear.
Oliver couldn’t help his laugh. “Very, extremely well, my darling.”
Sam palmed Oliver’s cheek before letting him slip to the ground. “I’m so proud of you.”
Oliver felt his face go a little warm as he turned to his father and sibling. Ren was barely smiling, looking as terse as ever, but there was a softness when he extended his hand. “Congratulations, Oliver.”
Oliver ignored the formality of the sentiment as he placed his hand in his father’s, still unable to get rid of his wide grin. “Thank you. I can’t believe how well that went.”
Leo offered him a quick hug before they were ushered off to Ren’s hired car and clambered into the back. The restaurant Ren chose was one of the posher ones in the city, a private room reserved in the back for the four of them, along with a handful of Ren’s associates.
The talk at the table was mostly business, though Oliver was able to recount a few of the memorable moments during his defense. Eventually, though, he tuned out the conversation in favor of drinking a gin and wrapping his foot around Sam’s leg under the table.
“Hey, when we get home tonight, I have a gift for you,” Sam muttered quietly, leaning into Oliver.
“Is it a naked sort of gift?” Oliver asked.
Leo choked a little on his drink and rolled his eyes. “Really, you two?”
Oliver glanced around the table, then laughed. “No one’s listening.”
Sam smiled too, reaching over to put his hand on Oliver’s thigh. “Part of it might be, but there’s something else. And something I want to ask you.”
“You’re not proposing, are you?” Oliver asked, only half joking. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the idea of marriage barely three weeks into living with a boyfriend for the first time.
Sam, however, laughed and shook his head. “No, love. Nothing like that.”
Oliver visibly relaxed, leaning into Sam a little, and eventually was drawn into a conversation about his upcoming future.
“Ever think about going into publishing?” one of the associates—Bernard or Brandon, he couldn’t quite remember—asked.
Oliver shrugged. “Dunno. I mean, journalism is alright, but it’s easy to become disillusioned by the media.”
“Well, you know, you’ve got a decent resource here,” he winked at Ren. “Nepotism and all that. And it’s hardly that really, if you take your degree into account.”
Oliver hummed. “I hadn’t really thought. But I reckon it would be something to consider.”
Ren nodded tersely and steered the questions in another direction as a small dessert was brought around. When it was over and they were enjoying a brandy, Ren leaned over toward Leo, and got Oliver’s attention.
“Would you join me outside for a quick smoke?”
Oliver blinked in surprise but nodded. They rose, and he gave Sam a‘help me’look before he followed his father out the front doors and to the side of the building. Ren pulled out a pack of very thin cheroots and handed one over, along with a slim, silver lighter.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Oliver said, taking a long drag and passing the lighter back.
“On rare occasions.” Ren lit his own, leaning against the wall for a moment and regarded his son. “You look like me.”
Oliver choked a little on his drag and lifted a brow at his father. It was true, he had more of his father’s features than he did his mother’s. No one had ever mistaken his Japanese heritage, and he couldn’t count how many times people assumed his mother had adopted him and Leo. But growing up without his father around, he hadn’t ever given it much thought. He never had anyone to relate to, to understand what it was like growing up in London with the mannerisms of a well-bred English boy without the look to match it.
