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“Think about it, Ruben. And give me a call!”

“I will. Thank you very much.”

Ruben waved to the group and finally walked over to me.

He appeared excited, exhausted, and overexcited.

Unable to decide, I stood there helplessly and gave a weak, halfhearted smile.

His expression changed, and he cocked an eyebrow. “Everything okay?” He gently stroked my hand.

Unfortunately, however, he withdrew it and nodded toward the exit door. “Shall we go?”

I nodded and followed him. With my hand on his lower back, we walked through the door. The gesture was completely unnecessary and stemmed more from my helplessness than from my desire to be a gentleman. Like a caveman, I wanted to make it clear to everyone who was watching us that Ruben belonged to me.

Only I knew that at that moment, the thought was more wishful thinking than reality.

We had been driving through the winter landscape for a few minutes when Ruben glanced quickly at me, and then back at the road.

“Now tell me. What’s going on? You’re acting strange.”

I shook my head and tried to ignore the question. I wanted to return to my state of carefree relaxation.

Slowly but surely, the certainty dawned on me that I would only be able to return to that state once I had had an honest conversation with Ruben. I needed reassurance—certainty that we were on the same page.

“We need to talk,” I said.

For an eternity, there was dead silence in the car. The music from the radio faded away. The resistance of the tires on the road was a background hum that was swallowed up by the tension in the driver’s cab. Until Ruben finally leaned over the steering wheel with a terrifying groan.

“What’s wrong?” Startled, I sat up straighter and put my hand on his shoulder.

“You want to talk? Now? On the way to our first date? Is this our last date? Then let’s turn around right now. I’m not going along with this.”

“What?” I stared at him in disbelief. He eyed me like a Labrador that had been caught raiding the pantry and was now waiting for its punishment.

“Come on, tell me!” Ruben urged. “Have you changed your mind? It’s okay. I just want to know.”

“No! I haven’t changed my mind,” I insisted. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to talk.” Why did my so-called openness disappear when I needed it the most? Why was it so difficult?

He leaned over the steering wheel again and fixed his gaze on the road. We were driving slower and slower. “We’re talking now! Right now.”

“You’re right.” I shook my head. “But maybe you should pull over somewhere. I’m not sure if it’s safe.”

Ruben scanned the area. “Our reservation! Well, if we don’t need it anymore.”

“Stop it.” I had to laugh, which earned me a dirty look.

We were driving on a small country road. Ahead of us, an illuminated sign advertising a diner beckoned. Ruben followed the exit to the restaurant’s parking lot. It was quite full, so Ruben drove to the end, near the next driveway.

He parked the car and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Then say what you have to say,” he burst out.

For heaven’s sake, he was even worse than me. I took one of his hands between mine.

“Ever since we got here, we’ve been beating around the bush. We need to talk about how—if—things should continue between us. There’s no point in trying to avoid the inevitable forever.”

Ruben jerked his hand away. “Oh God, I knew it. Let’s go back and not talk about it anymore.”

“Ruben!” Indignant, I raised my voice louder than necessary. “We’re not going back. And I don’t want you to run away. Is our relationship as unimportant to you that you’re not even willing to take this risk? An uncomfortable conversation.”