She fucked off and got a drink.

“What the hell”—Christopher rounded furiously on Oliver—“is wrong with you, you sanctimonious little shit?”

Oliver folded his arms. “It was a perfectly civil question.”

“No, it was stirring, and you know it was stirring.”

“There wouldn’t be anything to stir if you stopped dangling the possibility of grandchildren over our parents.”

“That is not—”

“Oh, it absolutely is. You can’t bear the idea of them not worshipping you.”

Well, this was fun. And I had sort of signed up to have Oliver’s back here, but I didn’t think that stretched to watching him be a dick to his brother. Who, to be fair, was being equally dickish. But this was getting way too much.

“You know”—I forced myself briefly into the conversation—“I think I need a drink too.”

And before anyone could stop me, I made a dash for the big tent.

Chapter 45

I found Mia in a corner, with a glass of champagne in each hand.

“Good plan,” I told her, and immediately copied it.

She gave me a rueful look. “Cheers.”

We double-clinked. And drank heavily for a few moments in silence.

“I think,” said Mia finally, “this might be worse than usual.”

God help me. “There’s a usual?”

“They tend to set each other off.”

“I’ve never seen Oliver act that way.”

“And Chris only acts that way around Oliver.” She shrugged. “It’s kind of their deal.”

I finished my backup drink in a single gulp and wondered if I could get away with a third. Truthfully, I was almost angry at how little Oliver had prepared me for this. But, at the same time, I could see why he hadn’t—and that alone made me feel sorry for him. “I guess”—I had to play this carefully—“it must be difficult for Oliver because it’s pretty clear David and Miriam have a way easier time with Christopher’s life choices.”

“Hah.” Mia drained her glass too.

“Okay, I’m getting the feeling I’m missing something.”

“They’re definitely supportive.” It seemed like Mia was being as careful as I was. “And they make sure he never forgets just how supportive they’re being. Anyway, sorry I yelled at your boyfriend. I’m usually not so… Actually I probably am, but fuck it. The Blackwoods bring out the worst in me.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think that’s a pattern. Though,” I added quickly, “for the record, David really did say the family thing.”

She drove her toe into the perfectly kept lawn. “Of course he did. But it was still cheap of Oliver to go there.”

“He…he…doesn’t seem to be handling today very well.”

“I can see how much you like him. Still not feeling particularly forgiving right now.”

“I take it…God, I don’t even know how to ask this.”

“It’s not this big sensitive issue. Or at least it’s only sensitive because, from where I’m standing, it’s crystal fucking clear. We don’t want kids. David and Miriam want us to have kids, and they seem to think that their opinion matters as much as ours does.”

“Shit. That’s…shit.”

“Especially because now it’s this cold war where they act like it’s just a matter of time and Christopher feels guilty for disappointing them and I’m pissed off that he won’t shut it down.”

“To be fair, they seem like hard people to shut down.”

She shrugged. “Oh, it’s always been like this. And, obviously, the last thing I want is for him to feel he has to choose between his parents and his wife.”

“Well”—I risked a grin—“you’re clearly a lot better for him than they are, so maybe it would be an improvement.”

That made her laugh. “It’s a nice idea, but he’s been trying to hang onto their approval for nearly thirty years. That’s not something you just walk away from.”

“I wouldn’t know. My dad fucked off when I was three.”

“And I’m increasingly glad my parents are normal, well-adjusted human beings.”

“Wait. Those exist?”

Before she could answer, Oliver and Christopher stuck their heads into the marquee, looking, I was pleased to see, appropriately sheepish.

“Ollie’s got something to say,” said Christopher, with a touch more aggression than the statement warranted.

Oliver shuffled. “I’m very sorry, Mia. I was angry and I lashed out, and I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine.” Mia waved a hand. “I know Chris was being a dick to you.”

“Hey,” protested Christopher. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“For fuck’s sake. The fact you think there’s sides is the entire fucking problem.”

I went gladly back to Oliver and snuck my hand into his. “Do you want to…give me a tour maybe?”

“Of course, Lucien. I’m sorry I’ve neglected you.”

“Actually, I think you’ll find I ran away from you. Because it was like Gunfight at the O.K. Corral back there, and I thought I was going to get caught in the verbal crossfire.”

“I’m… I…I know. I’m very aware I’m behaving badly.” He glanced back to his sister-in-law. “Mia, I really do apologise. It won’t happen again.”

We left the marquee and went for what would, under other circumstances, have been a nice walk around the garden. It was a bright, summery day, and I’d had champagne, and there were flowers and butterflies, but Oliver was vibrating like my gentleman’s massager without the fun side.

“I’m sorry,” he said, for about the thousandth time. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“Come on, I’m not doing that badly.”

“No, I mean. I’m not at my best. And I don’t want you to see me not at my best.”

“Oliver, you’ve seen me having all kinds of freak-outs. I think I can handle you being a bit snarky at a garden party.”

He got even more vibratey. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn this shirt.”