Craig forces a nod. He knows the rules because he wrote half of them. Boundaries, check-ins, the little ritual conversations that make the big conversations less likely to explode. He can give a good talk on ethical non-monogamy with examples, handouts and a Q&A. He’s lost count of how many times he’s delivered it to those who ask how he and Phil make it work.
“Phone, keys, dignity,” Phil says, patting himself down. “All present.”
“For now,” Craig mutters.
“You want me to leave you the car?” Phil asks. “Or is this a pyjamas-by-nine kind of evening?”
“I’m fine. I’m home.”
“Won’t be late,” Phil says, and the kiss on Craig’s cheek is light, quick, careful — like a signature on a form. “If he’s boring, I’ll be in home in time for tea and Celebs Go Dating.”
Craig faintly smiles, watching as he leaves.
The front door clicks. The house exhales. The rain gets bored and thins to mist. In the quiet, the fridge hums and the detective in Craig starts running timelines he doesn’t want to run.
He’s the one who says they don’t run surveillance on each other. He’s the one who says that curiosity is not consent. He’s the one who says love is not an evidence bag. DCI Craig Hollis: good at preaching, less sure about listening to his own sermon.
He picks up the tea towel, folds it, unfolds it.
He thinks about the speech he gives — communication, boundaries, honesty, the trinity that keeps a polyamorous life standing upright. He wonders when he last asked Phil a question that didn’t come preloaded with the answer he wanted. He wonders when Phil stopped giving details and Craig pretended not to notice.
Phil has been distant lately, the way a landscape looks different after you trim a hedge — you can’t say what changed, you just feel more exposed.
His phone buzzes on the counter. Tom:You in? Can I call?
Craig taps back:Yup. Ring.
Tom calls immediately, like he’s been perched on the edge of the bed waiting for permission. Craig answers on speaker.
“Evening, trouble.”
Tom laughs, high and tired. “I’m not trouble. I’m delightful.”
“You’re both.” Craig lowers his voice out of habit when he’s soothing witnesses and friends. “So, what you up to tonight?”
“Well,” Tom starts like he’s about to drop some bad news. “I’m going to stay over at Pete’s tonight.”
“Like a sleep over?” Craig winces.
“Like an adult sleepover.”
“Will James be there? And the boyfriend?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“So, like an orgy?”
“No! No, not like an orgy. All very much separate bedroom kind of situation.”
Craig shakes his head. “Okay, is this wise?”
“It’ll be fine. We’ll hang out. I can get to know James a bit more, win him over with my wit and charm.”
“In one night?”
“I know what I’m doing,” Tom insists.
“I know you do.” Craig looks at his own reflection in the darkened window: a man who is supposed to be unfazed by blood and secrets, making tea like it’s a strategy. “I’m not trying to parent you. It’s just… fast.”
