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Oliver laughed again, more startled than anything. “No, I’m not. I’ve moved on.”
“Everything you’ve done with me is either to try to forget him, or to bide your time until you can find him again.” Sam shuffled to the end of the bed, swinging his legs to the floor. “I love you, Oliver. I do. And I would walk over hot coals if I knew it meant at the end of things you could actually move on and open yourself to me. But tonight’s proved to me that will never happen. He didn’t leave with pieces of your heart, Oliver. He left with the entire bloody organ, and you want to go find it again.”
“All because I don’t want to move to fucking Wales?” Oliver cried indignantly, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest.
Sam shook his head, a sad smile crossing his face. “No, cariad. It’s because you’re aching to go back there, and you always will be. I can’t compare to that, and I need to let you go. I should have weeks ago, when you offered me the out. But I was foolishly in love, and I suppose we all do stupid things when other people have our hearts.”
Swallowing, Oliver cleared his throat and was surprised at how thick his voice sounded. “So, this is it, then?”
“I think so,” Sam breathed, and let out a watery laugh. “I think it is. I’m sorry for trying to force you into something you knew you didn’t want. It wasn’t fair to you…or me.”
Part of Oliver wanted to fight. To beg Sam not to go, because even if hewasin love with Gabriel still, he’d never find him. But it was too late, and Sam was right. Gabe had left with his entire heart, and it was unfair to ask another person to spend a life with someone who could never properly love them.
“Alright.”
“I think,” Sam said, and ran his fingers into his hair. “I think I’m going to go. I’ll get a room somewhere, and when I can sort out a flat, I’ll send for my things. You won’t have to worry about it.”
“Alright,” Oliver whispered again.
Sam started to pack a small bag, and Oliver watched numbly as his now-former lover dressed, slipped into his shoes, grabbed his bag, and left. Like it had happened before with Gabe, Sam didn’t look back. He didn’t pause, didn’t give any opportunities for second chances. Oliver heard him drop his key on the kitchen table, the front door opened and closed, and that was it.
It was over.
And although he hated himself a little bit for it, Oliver felt relief blossom through his chest. Not just for him though, but for Sam who deserved so much more than he could ever offer.
Twenty-Seven
“Hey sweetie.”
Oliver tried not to groan as he pushed his chair back to look over at his neighbor. She was grinning, her chin propped up on her fist, elbow on her desk, and she had the look on her face he’d seen before. “No, Kristen. I’m too busy to do you any favors.”
The brunette bat her lashes at him a little. “Come on. I have this friend who…”
“Oh God, double no,” Oliver said, shaking his head and tried to push his chair back to his desk, but her lightning-fast reflexes caught it before he could, and she spun him with surprising strength.
This was not the first time his workmate had attempted to set him up on a date. Oliver had been working for his father now for a year, and when his cubical neighbor found out he was gay and single, she began to parade out her list of friends like she was a one-woman, gay dating website.
“He’s really cute. Like, totally your type.”
“I have worked here exactly one year and three months, and have dated no one,” Oliver reminded her.
“Which is why you should take me up on this offer,” Kristen replied.
“I just don’t know how you can have any idea what my type is if you’ve seen me date absolutely zero people.”
“I see who you check out when we go for drinks,” she said, waggling her finger at him. “Seriously, his name is Will and he’s really cute. Tall, broad shoulders, gorgeous face, no weird accents or anything funny like that. He’s a manager at the SeaSide Farmer’s Market.”
“Unwashed hippy is what you’re saying. White guy with a beard?”
Kristen rolled her eyes. “Look, he’s had shitty luck with guys lately, and you’ve had literally no luck at all. What can a single drink hurt?”
Oliver bit down on his bottom lip, hating himself a little for actually considering the set up this time. Kristen wasn’t the first of his co-workers with a well-meaning offer to set him up with their, “Really cute, really gay friend,” that he’d turned down. And really, Oliver hadn’t been actively avoiding dating so much as he was busier than he anticipated when taking the job at his father’s company.
The split with Sam had gone as smooth as it could have. When Oliver went into work the morning following the split, the only thing left of his former boyfriend was a letter of resignation delivered to their boss. No one said anything about it, giving Oliver wide berth, and kept the topic down to quiet whispers behind his back they thought he couldn’t hear.
He left a month later, the moment he was approved for his work visa, and though he promised to stay in touch with everyone, he knew it would never happen. He and Leo packed up the flat, sold what they didn’t want to take with them, and said goodbye to London for what Oliver hoped was the very last time.
A month after arriving, Leo was accepted to Stanford, mostly by the grace of his father’s money, but the two-year graduate program was highly rated, and Leo was feeling better than ever. It would be the first time in his life Oliver had lived alone, and though he missed his sibling, he was looking forward to it in a way.
