“That’s exactly it,” I say, and my voice comes out quieter than I meant.
Pete doesn’t say anything—just studies me for a beat, then smiles like he’s made a decision. He slides his thumb across my knuckles one last time before withdrawing his hand and reaching for the wine.
“More?” he asks, but his voice has gone low, warm.
I nod, because speech is suddenly difficult.
Pete tops up my wine glass like he’s on commission, and I watch the liquid swirl, pretending I’m the kind of person who knows how to appreciate the legs on a Pinot.
“So,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows, smiling in that way that makes me feel like we’re sharing a secret, “are we going to talk about how we’re both tragic clichés? Or just drink until it stops hurting?”
I snort. “Define tragic cliché.”
“You,” he points at me with his fork, “are a walking, talking Richard Curtis movie. Lonely Bristol gay who buys posh bread, has a cat with emotional issues, and sighs at sunsets. And me—well, I’m…” he gestures vaguely at himself. “I’m a man who went no-contact with both parents since my twenties and spent the next decade trying to convince my therapist I don’t have daddy issues. We’re textbook.”
It makes me laugh, but not just because it’s funny — because it’s so… easy. “You make it sound like we’re doomed.”
“No,” Pete says softly, shaking his head. “I think it means we’re two people who actually get how much this matters.”
Something shifts in me then. The wine doesn’t feel so sharp on my tongue.
I pick at my food, trying to find the right words. “After my dad died, I… I thought I’d be devastated. And I was. But not in the way people expect. I didn’t losehim— because we never had a relationship in the first place. We mainly just talked about whether my car needed another MOT yet or not.”
Pete nods as I continue. “I think the saddest thing was the realisation that we would never have a real connection.”
I swirl my wine, watch it catch the candlelight. “Maybe I should have tried harder, maybe he should have, I don’t know. But it’s made me realise how much I value real connections and how rare they can be.”
“I agree,” Pete says softly. “Connections are worth exploring, at the very least.”
“They are,” I nod. “And sometimes they work out… and sometimes they don’t.”
I take a breath. I can feel it coming, that tug in my chest that says I’m about to say something I probably shouldn’t.
“I told you about my friend, Guy, before,” I say carefully.
Pete nods. “The one you used to work with?”
“Yeah.” I set my fork down. “It wasn’t just friendship. Not really. We… had a thing.”
Pete doesn’t look shocked, just quietly attentive. His gaze is soft but unwavering, which is somehow worse than judgment.
“He was married,” I add quickly, because apparently I’m on a roll. “We started as friends, lunch breaks, long walks, just talking. And then one day it wasn’t just talking. We were sleeping together. It went on for months and months. I hated myself for it. I used to tell myself I was different from people who cheat, and then there I was… cheating.”
“This was when you were with Daniel?”
I nod.
Pete tilts his head, his expression unreadable. “That must have been… complicated.”
“That’s one word for it,” I say with a weak laugh. “It’s not an excuse, but things were impossible between Daniel and I. Every day was a struggle, the mind games, the arguments. He had debts, big ones, from gambling, that weren’t going away. And Guy was just a welcome relief from all that. Someone who made me smile.”
My head hangs as I continue. “But I just felt like a hypocrite. Cheating has always been a hard no. I’ve always been cynical about open relationships, thought they were just cheating with extra admin. But, although it ended suddenly, Guy made me realise that connections don’t always follow rules. And that maybe… maybe the rules I grew up with aren’t the only ones that can work.”
Pete gives me a small, kind smile. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me, you know.”
“Yeah,” I say, shrugging. “I just… The point is, although it didn’t work out, I still believe connections are worth exploring. Even if they hurt. Even if they’re complicated. Because sometimes, sometimes they can lead to something amazing.”
Pete’s grin softens into something warm, steady. “I think so too. When you find them, they’re worth fighting for.”
