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Oliver pulled back and frowned. “No offense, my darling, but this bedroom is barely bigger than mine. I mean, it’s a fuck of a lotnicerthan mine, but…”
“This is the guest room,” Victor said. “I…this was supposed to be my honeymoon. So, um. So they prepared the suite for me.”
Blinking, Oliver dipped his brows in confusion until the realization hit him all at once. “Oh my God. Can I see?”
Victor glanced away and shrugged. “If you like.”
Slipping off Victor’s lap, Oliver held out both of his hands. “Have you burned her effigy?”
Their palms pressed together, and Victor carefully climbed to his feet. He rested more weight than usual on Oliver’s arms. “No. I didn’t really feel the need to. Alice was my first serious relationship, and for a long time, I was just grateful she was interested in marrying me.”
Oliver still struggled to believe that. Not because he thought Victor was a liar, but because he couldn’t imagine that in his entire social circle, no one realized what a gift Victor was.
Could everyone seriously be that fucking narcissistic?
Of course, he knew the answer was yes, so he didn’t say any of that aloud.
Instead, he just turned, keeping his pace slow as he slipped out of the guest room and down the hall. When they reached the last door, Victor’s fingers spasmed in his, and he knew they were at the right place.
“I don’t need to go in if it sucks too much for you,” he said without looking back.
Victor stroked a touch over the inside of Oliver’s wrist. “It’s not that. Nothing in there’s personal. I didn’t even get a good look at it before I chose the other room. It’s just a symbol of the lie, and I think my pride is still a bit tender.”
At that, Oliver turned. “Then let’s go back into the living—”
“Open the door, angel,” Victor interrupted softly.
Oliver stared down at his feet. “I’m being pushy.”
Laughing, Victor touched his chin and lifted his gaze. “Open the door,” he repeated with that same, firm tone he’d used at the apartment.
Oliver couldn’t help but shudder and turn, reaching for the door handle without letting himself overthink it anymore. It swung open silently, perfectly oiled hinges that were nothing like the ones in his apartment. The room was bright with open, gauzy curtains that half covered the wall-to-wall sliding glass door.
The suite itself looked like a larger version of the guest room, with a sofa under the far window, and there was a tray on the dresser with a melted bucket of ice, a champagne bottle, glasses, and some chocolate-covered strawberries that had seen better days.
There was a faint scent of roses that came from the petals and long-stemmed buds that were scattered over the bedspread, and Oliver took a few steps closer, staring down at the white flowers that were starting to go brown around the tips.
“This is tacky as fuck,” he blurted, then slapped a hand over his mouth.
Behind him, Victor burst into laughter. “Is it? I was never good at picking out those sorts of things. I just went with their platinum package.”
Turning, Oliver held out his hand and beckoned him close. “Your ex sounds like a basic bitch, so she probably would have loved it.”
Victor rested one hand at Oliver’s waist, his other bringing Oliver’s knuckles up to his lips. The kiss lingered there, long and warm and delicious. “What would you have chosen?”
“Lavender,” Oliver said, leaning close to rest his cheek against Victor’s shoulder. “Like, long stalks of lavender. The smell doesn’t get sour the way roses do when they’ve been out for too long. Also, strawberries are fine, but melon is sweeter. You don’t even need the chocolate.”
Victor hummed softly like he was taking mental notes, and Oliver’s heart was trying to escape his chest with how hard it was hammering. “What else?”
Oliver lifted his head and met Victor’s gaze. “I don’t actually know. No one’s ever…” He trailed off, his arms flopping at his sides in a shrug. “I’ve never had anyone care about me that way before, so I never gave it much thought. But I can tell you that your ex doesn’t deserve you. The fact that you did all of this for someone who never even tried to love you the way you should be loved? You’ve earned the right to purge her out of your life completely.”
Victor’s eyes closed in a slow blink, and then he cupped Oliver’s cheek and kissed him. “Tell me about the effigy,” he said when he pulled back.
Oliver stared at him, then grinned.
* * *
Pacing nervously, Oliver watched Victor tip the last of the flowers into the stone fire pit. It had rained quite a lot, so Oliver wasn’t convinced any of it was going to burn, even after he found a bottle of lighter fluid for the charcoal grill. But they found a stack of dry wood, which Oliver arranged from his rusty memory of the two weeks he’d spent in Boy Scouts.
