Comforting.
He gives me a warm hug.
I wasn’t expecting Sam, James’s boyfriend to be here.
This already feels messier than I had predicted.
And this was all my idea.
Idiot.
Dinner smells incredible—something with garlic and rosemary—but the atmosphere could curdle milk.
“Dinner’s nearly ready,” Pete announces. “Just a few final touches.”
“Well, smells delicious,” I say.
James stands around in the kitchen and pours himself a red wine, without extending the offer out further.
We sit around a table big enough to host the UN, with me opposite James.
Pete hands me a glass of white with a forced smile. It doesn’t take long for me to pick up on Pete’s manner. He’s on edge, I can sense his nerves, fussing with cutlery, talking sporadically to fill the silences, but also withdrawn, like a schoolboy waiting for exam results.
Sam, meanwhile, has clearly appointed himself Master of Ceremonies.
“So, Tom,” he says, leaning forward conspiratorially, “how long have you and Pete been — what’s the word — romancing?”
I nearly choke on my wine. “Oh, we’re—we’ve just been seeing each other. A little while.”
Sam smirks. “Cute. And you met in Tesco, I hear. That’s some Rom Com shit right there. I’ve always been more a tap on Grindr kind of a guy. Pete too.”
“Sam,” Pete warns softly, but the damage is done. James’s eyebrow arches, and my cheeks burn.
“You’re right. You’re more Recon, aren’t you?” Sam says, giving Pete a wink.
There’s a long silence, met with a frown from Pete as the quip falls flat. James sips his wine slowly, Sam not even flinching at the atmosphere.
I awkwardly smile to relieve the tension.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Tom,” Sam says. “Hopefully, this one lasts a bit longer.”
James coughs into his wine glass.
Pete pushes his food around on his plate.
This one?
What does that mean?
Sam leans forward, resting his chin on his hand like he’s hosting a talk show.
“So, Tom — tell us everything. How old are you?”
I blink. “Forty-two.”
“Cute,” Sam says, nodding like I’ve just passed a test. “Star sign?”
“Er… Libra?”
