Quoting Tolstoy at eight o’clock in the morning. Are you okay?
I rolled my eyes at myself because, of course, he would be familiar. I typed out my reply.
Not particularly
I expected his reply bubble to appear, but my phone rang instead. Winter’s name appeared on screen.
I considered not answering but didn’t want him to worry. “Hello.”
“Deacon, what’s wrong?” He sounded so concerned. “You said not particularly. What happened?”
“Nothing, I...” But I had to tell him. I’d said I’d go with him and now I couldn’t and I felt bad, but I had to tell him. “I can’t go with you to dinner. To the pizzeria with your friends. I know I said I would, but I’ve thought about it. It’s all I’ve thought about and I’m not ready for that, and it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s fine.”
Fine?
Did he not care at all that I wouldn’t go with him?
“What do you . . . why is it fine?”
“Because you said you weren’t ready.”
Oh.
“And not being ready is perfectly fine,” he said. “I’m sorry you thought about it a lot.”
“I want to see you but I . . .”
“You’re not ready,” he said. “Deacon, it’s okay. I want to see you too but not if it makes you uncomfortable. It doesn’t have to be with all those guys. We can have dinner at my house on Sunday night if you’d prefer? Or you can help me at the store on Thursday evening. I’ll be open a little longer for the late-night shoppers.”
That sounded much better, and the knot in my stomach loosened.
“Okay.”
“Okay, yes?”
I chuckled. “Yes.”
He sighed. “Good. And thank you for telling me.”
“Telling you what?”
“That you weren’t comfortable and that you weren’t ready.”
My face went all hot and I was glad he couldn’t see me. “Oh.”
“You can tell me these things,” he added. “There’s absolutely no rush, okay?”
“Are you . . . are you not sad or disappointed? Because I . . . wish I wasn’t like this. I wish . . .”
“I wish you weren’t any different from exactly who you are,” he said. “I happen to like you exactly as you are.”
I was smiling now.
Now I wished I’d thought to tell him sooner instead of tormenting myself.
“There’s no rush, Deacon. We’re going along at our own pace, and that’s perfect for us. No pressure, okay?”
