Page 32 of Crossed Paths
And for a second, the nerves tug again. Because he’s relaxed. Open. The last thing I want to do is wipe that grin off his face.
But it has to be today.
Here, now—somewhere between the ham sandwich and the bloody Scotch Egg—before I lose my nerve for good.
We eat in silence for a bit, the breeze tugging at our sleeves, distant chatter rising from the rest of the group. A soft snuffling sound draws my attention, and a moment later, Bernard, Mrs Higgins’ ancient, wheezy beagle, ambles over the grass, tail wagging low and slow. He sniffs at my boots, then flops down at my feet with the heavy sigh of a dog who’s seen too much nonsense and won’t be participating today.
I reach down and give his head a scratch. He leans into it like we’re old mates.
Peter tears a bit off the crust of his Scotch Egg and drops it into Bernard’s expectant mouth. “Here you go, lad. Keep it between us.”
Bernard licks his lips with great ceremony and settles further into the grass.
Right. It’s time.
I clear my throat. “Pete.”
He looks over. “Yeah?”
“I’ve got to tell you something.”
He frowns slightly, tilting his head. “Go on.”
I set down the last bit of my sandwich, wipe my hands on a napkin, and take a breath.
“I’m seeing Alex.”
He blinks. “Yeah, I know. She said she’ll be at the pub later.”
“No.” I meet his eyes. “I mean I’m seeing her. As in... we’re dating.”
For a beat, there’s nothing. Bernard shifts, resting his chin on my boot like a stamp of approval.
Then Peter sits back slightly, brows pulling together. “Wait. What?”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re dating my sister?”
I nod.
He stares at me. Gobsmacked. Properly speechless for once in his life.
“I don’t understand,” he says slowly, shaking his head. “You’re dating mysister?”
“We—bloody hell, Pete,” I say, heart hammering now, “I’ve been in love with her since—”
“Love?” he interrupts, eyes wide.
“Yes,” I say, steady and sure this time. “Love. I know it sounds mad, but I’ve felt it for a long time. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t the right time. First, we were too young. Then she was married. And then she withdrew from the world, and she just wasn’t ready. But now... she is, I think. And I don’t want to wait any longer, lose any more time.”
Peter narrows his eyes slightly. “What do you mean, youthinkshe’s ready?”
I open my mouth. “She…”
But I stop myself.
Because it’s not my story to tell.
