When I’d told Eliza he’d said sorry, she looked at me withan expression that said, “I told you so.” But she didn’t say anything, just raised her brows and got back to her books.
An apology from Liam was a big deal. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who was used to getting things wrong.
“What do you want to listen to?” he said. “Eighties froth, or something more modern?”
“Definitely eighties froth.” It still seemed surprising, this side of him that he didn’t show at his corporate meetings and ministerial negotiations. I suppose he couldn’t.
“Hey, Siri,” he said. “Play All Out Eighties on Spotify.” Diana Ross’s “Upside Down” started playing from the speakers, and Liam looked over at me with a grin, one tanned hand on the wheel, his head bobbing. How could someone’s hands be so absurdly attractive?
“So what’s this speech about?” I asked, looking out the window. It was Wednesday afternoon, a week since we’d been sitting together on the floor of his panic room and he’d brought up what had happened in my flat.
God, the memory of his hands on my skin, opening me up, his breath on my neck. He’d been so close to me, and all I’d wanted to do was lean into it, into him. Had he felt the same?
He’d been about to ask me something else, I knew he had.
Butwhat?
The gray sky was wider now, and the fields opened out on either side of the motorway. London seemed miles away. In two days, we’d be in France.
“Hugo invited me without a lot of notice,” he said. “It’s a good sign. Bonnie thinks he’s testing the waters to gauge how an association with me might land. The Oxford Union’s a good place for that. He’ll get feedback from people who matter.”
“I don’t understand why a minister would speak at astudent union, or why anyone who ‘matters’ would be there,” I said.
Liam laughed. “The Oxford Union isn’t the student union. It’s a debating society—kind of a training ground for politicians. It’s where half the cabinet learned to argue.”
“Oh. Right.” We didn’t have anything like that at London Met.
“Sorry, Oxford can be a bit… pretentious,” he said.
Thank God I’d brought a nice dress.
“Weren’t you intimidated?” I asked.
“Not really. The school I went to was basically like a smaller version of it. A feeder school for the university, actually.”
Bloodyhell.
“This thing at the Union tonight’s a closed summer policy forum,” he continued, like I’d know what that meant. “Hugo’s giving the keynote, and I’m doing a short industry address. Mostly NHS people, academics, a few donors. Hardly any press. We’ll go for drinks afterward at Christ Church, Hugo’s old college, mine too. Just a small thing in the senior common room.”
“But I thought you went to Oxford University, not a college?”
“Ah, yes, sorry. The university’s made of dozens of colleges. Each of them thinks it’s its own little kingdom. Bonnie went there as well, just not Christ Church.”
Of course Bonnie had gone there. She’d fit right in. She had that polished private school air, a sort of confidence I’d never be able to fake. I felt stupid again. His world was too much for me, complicated and strange, with rules I didn’t understand.
He glanced over, taking his eyes off the road for a second. “I know. It’s a bit different, but I think you’ll like it.”
I looked out the window, noting how everything was damp from the drizzle.
“Do you go back there much?” I asked. “To Oxford.”
“Not often. Most of my friends from those days moved away.”
Hard to imagine Liam at uni, hanging out with a bunch of friends. Had he been different then? Maybe he’d had a girlfriend or someone special.
“My mum lives nearby,” he added, like an afterthought. “I used to visit her quite a bit, but I haven’t seen her much since I joined the RAF.”
“Oh.” I looked at him. His voice had dropped, and a small furrow had formed between his brows. “You mentioned that was hard because of all your travel. Do you think you might see her now that you’re back?”
