TOM
The next day, I’m sprawled on Craig’s sofa like a teenager who’s just been told his favourite boyband has split up. Which, honestly, is not far off.
Craig’s making tea in that slow, deliberate way of his, like he’s in an M&S advert and I’m the tragic audience they’re trying to seduce into buying Earl Grey. He pops his head round the kitchen door.
“So. Dinner?” he asks, in the same tone a sexual health adviser might say, “So. Your tests.”
I groan into his throw pillow. “You know when you meet someone’s parents for the first time, and you’re trying to be charming, but then you accidentally bring up Brexit or Meghan Markle or something and the whole thing just implodes?”
Craig raises an eyebrow. “Did you bring up Brexit?”
“No.” I sit up. “Although I may as well have.”
“Okay, so how was James?”
I sigh. “So, you know how you said he would be open and kind and lovely, because that’s what you polyamorous types are all into?”
Craig nods but also scrunches his face.
“He was theexactopposite of that.”
Craig winces. “Yikes.”
“Yikes,” I repeat, flopping back again. “James just… looked at me. Like I’d spilled red wine on his cream carpet. Except he didn’t say anything, which was somehow worse. It was like he was silently vacuuming me out of his life.”
“Did he try to get to know you at all?”
“No! Not at all, not one question! Not even, what do you do? Where do you live? Small talk basics. Nothing!”
“Okay, that’s weird,” Craig admits.
“Yes, weird! That’s what I said!” I almost scream at the validation. “And Pete was kind of odd, quiet, on edge. In a way I’ve never seen before.”
I pause for breath, before continuing: “And then Sam was there—”
“Sam?”
“James’s boyfriend.”
“Of course.”
“Who, I don’t know if he was making fun of me or flirting with me or planning to murder me in my sleep?”
“Wow, sounds complicated.”
“I know. And now I just feel confused. This was supposed to be a lovely night, where I get to know this side of Pete and everything would just make sense. But it felt like the complete opposite.”
Craig sips his tea, thinking. “This doesn’t sound like the healthiest polyamorous setup, mate.”
“It’s just… complicated,” I say, staring at the ceiling. “Pete’s amazing. Funny. Normal. Easy to be with. I trust him.”
Craig frowns. “But he’s got this whole housemate-slash-husband situation with a guy who glares at you across the dinner table like you’ve just eaten his dog.”
“Okay, James wasn’t glaring,” I protest. “He was just… quietly radiating disapproval.”
Craig smirks. “Oh, well, that’s fine then.”
I grab my phone. “Look, I found him on LinkedIn.” I hold up the screen.
