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Peter’s eyes don’t leave mine, but there’s a complexity in his gaze. A hint of confusion. Maybe a dash of worry. As though he’s bracing for me to walk out without a backward glance. “Okay…”
“We were a couple for a long time and I never—and I mean never—felt anything close to what I felt for you in one night. I realized I didn’t want to live my life being safe if there was nothing else, so I broke it off and took some time to figure out what I wanted. My mind kept returning to our night in Vegas. It’s why I made my Tryst List. All because of you—or the idea of you.” I know I’m babbling, but I can’t stop.
I notice a change in Peter’s disposition—by the smile playing on his lips, he’s clearly delighted by my confession, but patiently waits for me to finish.
“I want to be honest about where I stand. I’m not interested in repeating my past mistakes.” My shaky voice doesn’t sound like my own. I’m nervous but force myself to continue. “I want something real. Something meaningful. And I think… I think I want it with you, and, uh…I’m in love with you too.”
Peter’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. Are we in love?”
“Oh, jeez.” I pull my hand away and bury my face in my palms.
“Baby…” He pries my hands down. “No, don’t hide from me. This moment is epic. We need to celebrate.”
His words reassure me, yet I can’t help but notice the slight tension in his posture. Like he’s wrestling with something.
Of course, my mind immediately conjures up a million scenarios. All of which end in heartbreak for me. Taking a deep breath, I remember Alex’s words and put my big-girl pants on. “Peter, I’m not hiding. I’m a woman in my thirties, who was in a long-term relationship with a man I didn’t love. I’m realizing I’ve told the man I’m actually in love with how I feel—and I'm like a teenager who’s confessed she has a crush on a boy. How emotionally stunted am I?”
“You’re adorable when you babble.” He grins from ear to ear. “As for me, I’m not a relationship guy and you’re the first woman I’ve ever said the 'L' word to. If I have my way, you’ll be the last.”
I twirl a lock of hair with my finger. “So, here we are, a couple of immature idiots who had a one-night stand nearly a decade ago and can't seem to get over it.”
“Sounds about right.” Peter laughs. “Although, in our defense, we both have very successful businesses with multiple people working for us and have worldwide recognition in our professions, so…”
“Maybe we’re immature geniuses.” I can’t help but join him in laughter.
Peter visibly relaxes. “Speaking of our businesses, tell me about your tattoo shop. I've read about you in magazines, of course, but tell me in your own words. What made you decide to hang up a shingle?”
My heart swells with pride at the mention of my shop. “The Salty Siren is my pride and joy. It’s thriving, and I have plans to expand, maybe open another location. But, as the daughter of a tech giant, I want balance. I don’t want my work to be my only focus.”
“A family and kids?” He leans forward, genuinely interested.
“Sure.” I gaze into his eyes and wonder what our children would look like. “I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, but there’s more to life than work.”
Peter seems to ponder my words as his finger swirls around the rim of his wine glass. “Yeah.”
“Not for you?” My heart catches in my throat.
He gives a small, somewhat forced smile. “Oh, I’d love those things. Right now, there are potential decisions about my future that could affect my company.”
“It’s none of my business but…” I lean back and study him. His vagueness piques my curiosity. I’m also concerned he’s not ready to divulge whatever is on his mind after the conversation we had. Or am I just looking for red flags?
Peter shakes his head. “I’m up for a huge job. A life-changing situation for me and both my companies. I’m hesitant to talk about it because…”
“Superstition?” I helpfully finish, relieved it’s nothing serious.
His eyebrow twitches. “Uh, maybe. What I can say is it’s down to my company and one other. I spent the entire day working on a competitive analysis.”
“Ah, you’re probably tired.” Part of me feels elated to have opened up to him, yet another part remains alert. He’s clearly uncomfortable talking about this mystery project. Sadly, there’s a slight tension permeating the romantic bubble of a few minutes ago. “Should we go?”
He nods and winks at me. “Yeah, we didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Peter insists on paying, which is nice. Leaving the restaurant, my stomach's in knots. On one hand, I’m filled with hope and excitement for what lies ahead with Peter. There's also a nagging uncertainty about the unresolved issue he’s grappling with.
Yet, he’s a man who makes me feel…well, like I’m the only woman in the world. Tonight, we confessed our love for each other, for God’s sake.
As we walk through the Market, a bold sense of urgency surges through my entire being. I’m going to live in my own truth and if he can’t handle it, Peter’s not the guy for me.
Misinterpreting why I stopped in my tracks, he bends to kiss me, but I place my palm on his chest to stop him. “Look, I don’t want to play games. We’ve already lost too many years.” I keep my voice steady and clear. “I could play it coy, say goodnight, and catch an Uber home. But that’s not what I want.”
