Husband Material (London Calling, #2)

by Alexis Hall

I got to Clerkenwell about seven, hopped out the cab, and let myself in with the actual key I actually had. I hadn’t been in a key-exchanging relationship since Miles, and that hadn’t counted because we’d rented the flat together so he hadn’t so much given me a key as received a key at the same time I had. Anyway, I’d texted ahead so I’d expected Oliver to be expecting me. What I hadn’t expected was for him to be standing in the hall in full black tie holding a blue-velvet jewellery box. Oh, shit. I’d forgotten something important. It definitely wasn’t our anniversary because while we hadn’t worked out when it officially was on account of the whole pretending-to-date-before-officially-dating thing, we’d agreed it was before the Beetle Drive, which had already happened. And it wasn’t Oliver’s birthday because, while I had forgotten when that was exactly, I knew it wasn’t in May. “What’s going on?” I asked in the wary voice of a man who felt he should have known but didn’t. Oliver had gone a little pink. “Well, I felt bad that I wasn’t more supportive when Bridget needed your help. And I thought since we missed Pretty Woman: The Musical, I could, instead, bring Pretty Woman to you.” My gaze flicked from the jewellery box to black-tie Oliver and back again. “You’d better not be taking me to the opera. You know I hate opera.” “I’m not taking you to the opera,” Oliver said. “I couldn’t get tickets and my private jet is being detailed.” Thank God for that. I’d do many things for...