Chapter Eight
Lane
Driving up to Oliver’s on Saturday morning, I knew my reasoning was flimsy at best. I’d left my work phone on his kitchen table while we were packing up on Friday afternoon, and although it would have been fine there until Monday, collecting it gave me an excuse to see him again.
We’d spent hours with the guys at the pub last night, and after I’d gotten home, I’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Oliver’s smile.
It had been obvious Oliver was nervous last night since I’d found him hanging around outside like the pub door might rip his hand off if he went anywhere near it.
Despite that, he seemed to have eased into the group well, even if Spencer had decided that fucking murder cellars was the best topic of conversation.
I’d have fucking murdered Spencer myself if I’d thought he was trying to be malicious or scare Oliver off, but that was just Spencer. He didn’t do malicious. He was just a giant himbo with a heart of gold, who didn’t think things through.
It had stopped everyone focusing on Oliver, though, so maybe the topic had its benefits, even if it had led to a weird discussion about murder, serial killers, and some true-crime show Theo and Laurie were binging.
I’d have thought they’d get enough of death, being around it all day, but apparently not.
Honestly, out of all my friends, it wouldn’t surprise me if they turned out to be murder boyfriends…
best friends… whatever the fuck they were to each other.
None of us really knew, and after so long, it felt rude to ask.
I pulled my van up outside the cottage and hopped out before I lost my nerve. I knew this was a ludicrous idea, but I was there now, and it would look even weirder to park the van, then drive off again. Even if Oliver didn’t spot me, one of his neighbours definitely would.
And sure enough, I saw Ivor pottering around in his garden, weeding the roses on the other side of the fence and pretending he hadn’t noticed me.
“Morning, Ivor,” I said as I walked up the garden path, avoiding the loose paving stones that I’d made a mental note to sort before we finished the renovations. “Roses look good this year.”
“Morning. You working today?” Ivor looked at me shrewdly, then at my van like he was waiting for a horde of brickies to suddenly leap out of the back and start singing and swearing. I tried not to laugh at the idea.
“Nah, I just forgot my work phone and some paperwork. We’ll be back on Monday.”
“All right, well, don’t let me keep you.” He waved his hand to dismiss me and went back to his roses with a small pair of gardening shears.
I turned back towards the door and made my way up the last of the path, trying to work out what I was going to say. Oliver might just hand me the phone and send me on my way, and if that happened, I didn’t think I’d be able to do anything.
I could ask him if he wanted to grab a coffee, but that sounded too much like a date, and I didn’t think either of us were ready for that.
I rang the recently installed doorbell and cast my eye over the new door with its dark green finish and gold-effect knocker in the shape of a wreath of flowers.
It was similar to the one we’d replaced.
Oliver said Iris had picked the original herself and that she’d always loved flowers.
It had been easy enough to find something to honour Iris and the original.
It was sweet how Oliver wanted to bring the cottage up to date without totally removing the original features, and he still seemed to consider what Iris would have liked in half his decisions.
I thought it was odd that he was going to sell the place considering how much care he was putting into the renovations. It seemed like such a contradiction.
The door swung open while I was thinking, catching me off guard.
“Hey,” Oliver said. He sounded surprised to see me. He was wearing a baggy green hoodie and pair of black jogging bottoms that were tighter than they had any right to be. “I didn’t expect you to be here today.”
“I’m not here for work. I just left my work phone here yesterday, and I thought I’d come grab it while I remembered.”
“Sure, come in.” Oliver waved me into the house, and I let out a silent sigh of relief. “If you’d have said, I’d have brought it to the pub.”
“I didn’t remember until this morning,” I said, following him into the kitchen. “I went to put it on charge and realised I’d left it here.”
The phone was on the table where I’d left it, its obnoxious yellow case obvious against the dust sheet. I picked it up and shoved it into my pocket as I tried to think of what to say next.
“It was great to see you last night. Thanks for coming.” Fuck, why did I sound so fucking formal? It felt like I was thanking him for coming to a job interview or something. But Oliver just smiled.
“It was fun,” he said. “They’re a nice bunch.”
“Yeah, they’re a bit weird sometimes, but I wouldn’t change them.”
“Aren’t we all supposed to think our friends are a bit weird?”
“Probably. What are your friends in London like?”
Oliver gave me a half shrug and a small smile.
“They’re Londoners, so you’d definitely think they’re weird.
And most of them are nerds who work in publishing.
But I’m not as close to them as you are to your friends or as close as we were.
They’re more… I don’t know, they’re more than work friends but not people I speak to every day.
I’m closer with some of my housemates. They’re fun. ”
I turned his words over in my head. Honestly, it sounded lonely to me.
I knew some people would look down on me for never leaving the town I’d grown up in.
They’d consider my life boring and static.
And maybe it was, but I had a house, a good job, and a great group of friends who would always be there for me.
I might not have led a wild or exciting life, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good one.
But I didn’t know how to say any of that. So I just said, “Sounds different than this lot at least.”
“Yeah,” Oliver said with a nod. I wished I’d been able to tell what he was thinking, but he seemed on the verge of clamming up like I’d accidentally touched a sore spot. I tried another question.
“Do you like living in London?”
“It’s okay. It’s really expensive, which sucks, but it can be fun. There’s always something to do.” He was leaning against the kitchen counter, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming over him.
“Did you prefer York?” I asked.
He paused for a second, then nodded. “I did. But there aren’t any publishing jobs there, so I had to move.”
“That’s a pain in the ass. You just read books all day, though.
Can’t you do that from home?” I asked teasingly.
He’d spent several hours explaining his job to me, and while it was definitely more complicated than that, Oliver had summed it up jokingly as just reading books.
I’d loved listening to him talk about it, and now I wanted to know about all the other things I’d missed out on in his life.
“That’s the dream,” Oliver said. “But apparently, people higher up like me to be in an office so they have proof I’m alive.”
“That just sounds like they want a ransom note,” I said, and Oliver laughed. “You should just make them a series of short videos as proof of life. I wonder if they’d notice if you just recycled the same three or four?”
“Probably not. I doubt they’d even open them.” He grinned at me. “I’m sorry. I’m distracting you. You’ve probably got plans for today.”
I snorted. “If by plans you mean dragging Sparrow out for a walk, then yeah, I have plans.” Sparrow had resumed her customary position on the sofa after breakfast that morning, and since it was a nice day, she’d probably be there until I got back.
I’d wait until it cooled down this evening, then take her down to the beach for a paddle.
She’d always loved the sea, and even at her age, she still loved to chase the waves in and out of the water and herd any seabirds stupid enough to linger on the sand.
“Sparrow?” Oliver’s face lit up with a bright smile that had my heart brimming with affection. “I didn’t know you still had her. How’s she doing?”
“She’s good. She’s nearly eleven now, so her hobbies mostly include sleeping, farting, and trying to steal my dinner.
” I pulled my personal phone out and opened a picture I’d taken last week of Sparrow snoozing on my lawn in the sunshine.
I took a couple of steps closer to Oliver and held it out for him to see.
“Aww, she looks so good. I remember when you first got her, and she was all legs and fluff.”
“She’s still legs and fluff,” I said, “just more of both these days.”
“And a little bit less energy?”
“Yeah, and she doesn’t try to eat my face as much.”
“She always did like chewing your ear.” Oliver chuckled. “Do you remember…” He trailed off and turned his head away to look out the kitchen window as if he was suddenly embarrassed.
“The first time she snuck into my bed while you were staying over?” I asked, wondering if he was thinking about the same incident. “We were both naked and neither of us knew she was there until she started chewing my toes in the dark. I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life!”
Oliver chuckled and shook his head fondly. “That’s the one. Your dad came in to see what the noise was, and you’d thrown the duvet over me, so you were just lying there naked with a collie puppy on your chest trying to lick your eyes and stick her tongue in your mouth.”
“Yeah, and you were in fucking hysterics. So was Dad.” I’d never forget that night. It was the most humiliating experience of my life, but talking about it with Oliver made it feel more amusing than embarrassing.
“And then your brother came in, and she tried to climb down, only she slipped and stood on your dick.”
“Bloody dog,” I said with a dry laugh. “You know, both my dad and brother still bring up that fucking story sometimes. Assholes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?” We stood closer now, and I wanted to reach out and brush our fingers together. I didn’t know why my brain was so obsessed with Oliver, but my resistance was crumbling faster than a sandcastle made with dry sand.
“I don’t know… For bringing it up now?” He sighed and folded his arms across his chest, pulling his lips between his teeth.
“Every time I see you, all I can think about is everything we had. You were my best friend since I was three, practically my whole life, and I thought I’d lost you.
And now it’s like everything is coming back.
I wanted to be angry with you, but instead, all I feel is…
” He looked out the window across the garden.
“It doesn’t matter. Ignore me. Just forget I said anything. ”
“No, I get it.” I glanced down at the floor, then around the room.
It was time to address the elephant. “I wanted to be mad at you too. I wanted to ask you what the fuck you were doing here and hate you down to my bones. But I don’t feel that way at all.
I feel more sad than anything. I lost everything the day you left, and I was too stubborn to admit it.
Now, all I can think about is how much I missed you… and how much time we lost.”
“I think that’s it,” Oliver said. “It’s the time thing.
I told myself I’d put our friendship, our relationship, everything we had behind me, but seeing you just made me realise I’ve never had another friendship like it.
The ones I had at uni all felt so hollow in comparison, and in London, my friends are just people I know.
I’m not close to anyone, not in the way we were.
And as for relationships… well, let’s just label them a disaster and move on. ”
I took a step closer until we were side by side. There was barely any space between us. I turned my head to look at him and found Oliver’s beautiful dark eyes gazing back at me.
“I missed you,” I said. “I missed you so much. There were days when all I wanted to do was talk to you—about work, about Sparrow, about some random shit I’d seen on TV. About everything.”
“I wanted to do the same, especially that first year. Everything was so hard. I didn’t know anyone, I felt so alone and isolated, and I kept wondering if I’d made a mistake moving away.”
Something deep inside me cracked as Oliver spoke. I knew we were both to blame for what had happened between us, but it didn’t stop guilt from spilling into my chest. My hand brushed against his.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “For everything. I was such a dick to you. I was so fucking scared I was going to lose you, that you were going to go off to York, forget all about me, and find someone better, so I just pushed you away. I figured you were going to dump me anyway so I—”
“So you made the decision for me.” Oliver’s little finger twisted into mine, followed by his hand. It felt like my skin was burning, but I craved the heat of his touch. It was strange how such a simple gesture could do so much.
It made me want things I thought I’d buried.
“Something like that,” I said, my voice hoarse. “And then I blamed you because it was easier.”
Oliver nodded. “I did the same. I blamed you. But you can’t seriously have thought I’d have forgotten you? That I’d have wanted someone else? You meant everything to me, Lane. I loved you, and I’d have given you everything. Remember the promise I made?”
My throat tightened, cutting off my ability to speak. The memory surged bright and hot, churning up my insides like a stormy sea. I’d never forgotten Oliver’s promise, and on the darkest nights, I still heard his voice whispering in my ear.
“I’d never have broken that,” he said.
“I know,” I said, forcing the words out. I knew he wasn’t lying, and it was another reminder of how much I’d fucked up back then. “I was such a twat.”
“So was I.” He squeezed my hand and leant against me, resting his head on my shoulder.
It was funny. I’d built this conversation up in my head to be something immense and unscalable, but now that it was done, it felt easy. But apologies always felt harder to make than they actually were. It was just pride and guilt that made them more difficult, at least in my experience.
“What do we do now?” Oliver asked.
“I don’t know.” I knew what I wanted to do, but I didn’t know if Oliver was on the same page. The distance between us meant I’d lost the ability to read him. He was still my Oliver, but he was different too. Oliver 2.0.
“Can I…” Oliver’s eyes flicked down for a second.
Then he raised his head and kissed me.