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Oliver laughed hard, leaning forward and putting his hands splayed flat on the table. “Oh love, believe me. She’s going to be crying herself to sleep every night.”
* * *
“…andthe tattoo appears out of nowhere—no mention of it in the entire sodding book, and yet it’s suddenly the solution to all their problems. And miraculously this human, this chemist, by the way with no previous experience in the supernatural, randomly knows the legend behind it. And the poor girl just up and says, sounds alright, I’ll be the savior.” Oliver was grinning at Will’s doubled-over laughter, the ginger swiping tears from his eyes. “So yeah, darling Kristen has to sort out that entire thing.”
“Oh my God, that is the best thing I’ve heard all week.”
They were three drinks in, two hours into the fake date, and they’d ordered and shared a plate of fried mushrooms. In between talking about the Book from Hell, as Oliver had lovingly dubbed it, he learned more about Will and the two of them found an easy connection.
“I expect several furious emails, and probably two a.m. phone calls just to shout at me,” Oliver said with a shrug. “But she asked for it.”
Will sat back, taking a breath. “She did. Shesoasked for it. I swore if she didn’t stop telling me the only way to get over my ex was to move on with someone as quickly as I could, I was going to start sending her singing telegrams at the office.”
Oliver chuckled. “Why are straight people so weird and obsessed with making all the gays get married?”
“No idea. It’s probably why their divorce rate is so high. I’ve got this friend…well I use the term loosely but anyway, he’s a Mormon.”
“Those religious blokes with the white shirts and ties?”
Will nodded with a smile. “Those are the ones. Anyway, so he’s married to this woman he can’t stand, and last year, he begs his church to grant a divorce—because you know, with them it’s not just with the courts? Anyway, his bishop agrees to it, but only under the condition that he be married again within six months.”
Oliver’s eyes widened. “You’re shitting me. Six months? To find a person, fall in love, and get them to marry him?”
Will snorted. “Yeah, only it doesn’t seem like love comes into play a lot with them. He was sent to their dating bootcamp. There were all these singles events that people in their church who weren’t dating or engaged had to attend. All chaperoned by church elders or whatever they’re called. He explained it to me, and I swear to God, I had nightmares for months after.”
“I would have as well,” Oliver said, sipping on what he determined would be his last drink. “God, I have never been more relieved to be gay, atheist, and British. We have a handful of those over there but not like here. You Americans with your religion. It terrifies me.”
“Republican Jesus. Blessed be the automatic assault rifles,ayyy-men,” Will drawled.
Oliver chuckled and set his glass down. “Exactly. And on that rather bizarre note, I should go. It’s late and I actually have to get a bit of work started before morning. I’m in a meeting first thing. But this was more pleasant than I expected.”
Will nodded, signaling for the server, and handed over a card. “Look, we should do this again. You seem like a good guy, and I’m not opposed to having a new friend. Especially one that isn’t going to change his mind and try to get into my pants.”
“Well, I do fit that description,” Oliver admitted.
“It’s the beard, isn’t it?” Will asked.
With pink cheeks, Oliver laughed. “A bit, yeah. It doesn’t put me off being mates, though.”
“I can live with that.” Will clapped him on the back and then got his card back, scribbling his name at the bottom of the receipt.
“How about Wednesday, then? Dinner’s on me,” Oliver offered.
“Perfect. Text me pictures if Kristen starts crying tears of blood with that book, alright?”
“Oh, I will,” Oliver said, and winked as he pushed his chair in. “See you later.”
With that, he headed out, feeling lighter than he had when he went in. It never felt better to have a friend who understood him, and even better having someone who shared his lifestyle without wanting more than he was willing to give. He had an almost bounce to his step as he made his way home and was still smiling as he sat down on his sofa with his laptop to begin a little bit of the work.
The book was still in his queue, and he wanted to give the first parts a read-through before heading off to bed. It would be his big project for the next few weeks, and although he was told the quality was much better than the other books he’d been given, he didn’t trust his co-workers to actually know quality writing most of the time.
Firing up his program, he went into the kitchen while his email and queue loaded, flicking on the kettle for a cup of tea. He sent a text off to Leo, a quick run-down of the night, but got no response since his sibling was likely sleeping.
With his tea in hand, Oliver sat back down and opened up his documents. There were four, as per usual. The author’s bio, their marketing plan, blurb, and manuscript. He clicked the first one open, and saw the penname in bold, black writing.
C.S. Roman
Nice and generic,nothing that stood out, and nothing that sounded familiar. He knew this one was a debut author, and had wowed his editor in chief, Jake Kelley, who had immediately sent off a contract to the author’s agent. It wasn’t often Jake got excited about fiction coming in, especially something classified as romance, so Oliver had to assume there was something good here.
