He grins at me. "Am I already driving you crazy? I can back off if I need to. A little bit, maybe. Not a whole lot."
"Please don't. Whatever you do, don't back away from me." I reach over and rub my thumb across his hand. "Let's get through the court datefirst. One thing at a time. And then we'll talk seriously about Atlanta. About the future."
"That's all I'm asking. One step at a time."
We finish breakfast, but my mind is spinning out of control now. I can feel my heart starting to race, that familiar tightness in my chest that signals a panic attack might be coming. My palms are sweating. I wipe them on my jeans under the table and try to anchor myself.
"Caleb found a new dinosaur book at the library," Ivan is saying, not noticing my rising panic. "Now he won't stop talking about the Therizinosaurus. Apparently, it had claws three feet long."
"Three feet?" I force the words out, trying to act normal.
"That's what he says. He made me look it up to prove it wasn't just a made-up dinosaur." Ivan grins. "He was right, of course. The kid knows more about dinosaurs than most actual paleontologists. He corrects documentaries."
"He sounds like a handful. Sounds exhausting."
"He is. But in the best way possible." Ivan sips his coffee. "What about you? Have you had any time to work on the Triumph? The one you were restoring?"
"Not really. Between Mick's shop during the day and Betty's at night, I barely have time to sleep, let alone work on personal projects." I push a piece of hash brown around my plate. "I miss it, though. Working on something that's mine. Something that's not just a job or an obligation."
"You'll get back to it. Once things settle down a bit. Once the court stuff is behind you."
"Hope so."
The anxiety is getting worse. I can feel it building, that irrational panic that comes whenever I think about changing anything substantial in my life. My current situation is objectively crappy. But it's familiar. Safe. I know exactly what each day is going to look like, and there's a weird comfort in that predictability.
Change means uncertainty. Uncertainty means things can go wrong. And in my experience, things always go wrong eventually.
"Hey." Ivan reaches across the table and touches my hand, his fingers gentle on mine. "Where'd you go? You left me all of a sudden there."
"Nowhere. Just thinking. My brain won't shut off."
"You're worried about moving to Atlanta?"
"A little." I force a smile. "It's a lot to think about. A lot to process."
"I'm sorry if I pushed too hard. I probably overwhelmed you. Rosalyn says I'm very goal-oriented. When I set a goal, I push myself hard to reach it. This is the first time I can remember someone else being involved in one of my goals though, and I didn't realize I was steamrolling you."
"You weren't. I always want to know what you're thinking or planning." I take a shaky breath. "I just... I don't know how to explain the way my brain works. The way even good things feel dangerous because they give me something to lose."
"You don't have to decide anything right now," Ivan says. "Let's table this discussion if it's stressing you out. I just wanted you to know there are options. That's all."
Betty swings by with the check, setting it down between us. "You boys need anything else? More coffee?"
"Just the check," Ivan says. "Thanks, Betty. Breakfast was perfect as always."
She sets it down and winks at me. "You look tired, hon. Make sure you're getting enough sleep. You're working too hard."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll try."
When we leave the diner, Ivan takes my hand as we walk down the sidewalk. In broad daylight, where anyone could see us. I tense for a second, waiting for someone to give us a dirty look. But no one does. People just walk by, absorbed in their own lives, their own problems.
"Is this okay?" Ivan asks, noticing my tension.
"Yeah." I squeeze his hand, force myself to relax. "I like holding your hand. I don't care who sees it."
We walk back to the motel hand in hand, and for a few minutes I let myself imagine it.
A life with Ivan in Atlanta.
