Pete was already in his 30s. No matter how happy he felt, he could calm down within seconds.
He set me down but didn't immediately let go of me. He leaned down, intending to place a kiss on my forehead.
"Pete Shelman," I called his name.
Upon hearing his name, his movement froze, replaced by deep affection in his eyes. In that moment, it surged forth, no longer hidden.
"Ariana, I'm a man. It's completely normal for me to have desires for you. I want to hold you, kiss you, and truly have you. I've waited over 20 years for this. Don't make me wait too long, okay?" Pete's voice was tender, filled with love as he looked at me.
Maybe it was the faint influence of the alcohol, or perhaps the struggles of the past years were finally giving way to a glimmer of hope, but I started to question whether I had truly moved on from my failed marriage and if the fear of starting another relationship still held me back.
Pete received no response. He straightened up as disappointment washed over him. He didn't say anything more, casually ruffling my hair like he always did.
"Get in the car. I'll drive you home."
With that, he turned to walk away, and I instinctively reached out, grabbing the hem of his shirt. I pulled him closer, my voice trembling.
"Pete, my last relationship was far from perfect, so I've heard a lot of empty promises. My failed marriage has also made me stop expecting love. So, when you speak sweet words to me or do things for me, it all seems less significant. Don't you think that's unfair?"
Pete tightened his hold around my waist, pulling me toward him.
"When you gave birth to Tabitha, I knelt outside the delivery room, praying for your safety for five hours. I would trade my life just for you two to be safe.
"After Tabitha was born, I was there for everything—whether needed or not, I was hands-on.
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Unrealistic story. Siblings in love?...