Husband Material (London Calling, #2)

by Alexis Hall

A FEW DAYS LATER, OLIVER tried to wake me gently with “I’ve made French toast.” But firstly, I wasn’t sleeping, I was just lying there in sulky dread. And secondly, it was definitely a bribe. Today was the day we were seeing his parents, and like any sensible person, I did not want to see his parents. “There are some things,” I said, “that you can’t make better with French toast. You’re making French toast worse by association.” “Well, I can throw it away if—” “No.” I cast off the covers and made a grab for the plate. “No. I will eat it. But I want you to know that I am eating in the full knowledge that this is a bribe.” Oliver looked faintly guilty. As well he might. “I prefer to think of it as me doing something thoughtful for you because I know you’re going to do something thoughtful for me.” “Yeah, that’s literally what a bribe is.” “No, a bribe is contingent. A bribe comes with expectation. This came after you’d agreed to do the thing I wanted so it’s legally a thank-you gift.” Moodily, I munched through the incredibly delicious French toast, trying not to resent how incredibly delicious it was. But it was incredibly delicious. Dammit. Oliver cleared his throat. “While I always enjoy watching you pout and/or enjoy my cooking, we are going to need to hurry a little bit.” I mopped up the remains of the maple syrup with the last corner of the toast and inched it, slowly, towards my mouth. “We’ve got plenty of time. As long as you’re happy to wear the shirt you’re wearing...