“I am.” I mean it. My heart is racing and my mouth has gone dry, but it’s not bad. It’s just new. And exciting, if I’m honest.
“How about we actually go out, then? Can I take you to dinner Saturday?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate, and I’m mostly excited…
…until Saturday early evening rolls around and I’m so nervous I almost feel sick.
“It’ll be fine, right?” I press my forehead into Mr. Bingley’s soft fur at his forehead and breathe for a moment. I’d love to pull him into my arms and feel his purr against my chest, but I’m dressed for my date and I’m fairly certain if I start lint-rolling my soft yellow sweater and jeans, I’ll end up compulsively rolling the entire apartment to distract myself.
Mr. Bingley’s ears perk when a knock sounds at the door. My nerves clang and I rush to the kitchen to take a gulp of water and remind myself, “You want to do this. You like Grant. You are safe with him. This will be fun.”
I’m not proud of the way I’ve needed to create a mantra for today, but something aboutgoing outmakes this momentous. It’s not just a date. It’s not really even a first date since we’ve spent time together one on one before. But it feels huge and consequential.
Like the start of something.
And yes, there’s a little quavering voice in the pit of my chest wondering whether I can trust Grant. And myself. And suggesting I might be better off if I simply let go of the desire for someone like him and accepted a life alone.
But when I open the door and see Grant holding a bouquet of desert flowers, feet planted and face so handsome it hurts, I release a breath.
“Nervous?” He steps inside as I step back to welcome him.
“Yes.” I hadn’t planned on acknowledging it, but why? Do I want to be with someone I have to pretend with? No.
Been there, done that, got the T-shirt, divorce, and self-doubt, thanks!
Grant tosses the bouquet to the side table next to the couch and gently cups my cheeks, dipping his head so we’re eye to eye. “Any doubts about this, we bag it. If it’s me, or going out, or anything, you say the word and we change the plan.”
I’m speechless. At this point, I should know Grant will surprise me in the best ways, but I truly cannot find words to respond to him. He must take this to mean I want to cancel, and he gives me the softest smile.
“I’m a grown man, Sam. I want to spend time with you but there is no part of me that wants that if it’s not also what you want.”
My heart soars. If I needed more confidence in him, he’s just given it to me with his steady assurance. I can guess very well what he wants—he wants to go out. He wants time with me. I think he simply wantsme.But he’s making clear that if anything has changed on my end even after I told him I was ready, we’ll stop. He won’t shame me or pressure me or make me feel small for needing time and space.
It's exactly why I don’t. He’s given me time and space with grace and in turn, I’ve burrowed into myself. I know me. And that’s why I tell him the truth.
“I do! I do want. I don’t know why I’m freaking out.” I swallow hard and grip his wrists. “I haven’t been out with someone since Andrew, and I know you’re nothing like him in about every way there is, but I think I’m just nervous. Not scared or worried so much as…” I shrug.
“Would it help if we stayed in?” He tucks some of my hair, which I’ve worn loose in waves, behind one ear.
“It might. But I want to go. It’s maybe even important that I do.”
His gaze searches my face, eyes flickering back and forth between mine, and then he nods. “Then we go.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re seated at Farm Comfort and the waiter is taking our order.
Five minutes after that, I’m slathering a hot piece of homemade sourdough with salty house-made butter and eating it like it’s my last meal.
“This is amazing. I’m so glad we came.”
Grant smiles. “We’ve been here for six minutes.”
“They had me at the bread and butter.Warmbread and whipped butter.”
His cheek creases with amusement. “So all I need to do to warm you up to an idea is give you bread and butter?”
I laugh, mouth full, and nod. Once I’ve swallowed, I add, “I won’t tell you it’s a bad strategy.”
The whole meal is like this—loose and fun. I laugh more than I ever have on a date. At one point, I’m telling a story about an assignment in one of my classes after he asked how school was going, and I knock my water over.
