Now I’m starting to realize it’s okay to be unsure. To change your mind. To not be so damn rigid all the time.

Maybe that’s my problem. I can be rigid. Unyielding. I’ve been told that before. My parents are the same way. So is my brother. The majority of my family, even. We know what we want, and we know what to do. Once the plan, the goal is in place, it’s hard to deviate from our path.

Spontaneous is not a word I would use to describe me, that’s for sure.

“Hey,” Isaac says, his soft voice causing me to lift my head and find him already watching me. Our dinner plates are long gone and Isaac already paid for the meal. We’ve been lingering, making small talk. I’m reluctant to end the evening but I don’t quite know how to say it to him without sounding…desperate? “I feel like I lost you just now.”

I blink at him, studying his handsome, earnest face. What would my family think, if I brought him home for Christmas dinner? Mother might like him. She did rave about how nice and accommodating he was when he brought the Christmas tree to the store. My father might not approve at first, but that’s only because he’s overprotective and wants the best for me.

Would it be so bad, spending time with a guy like Isaac?

Okay, I’m being ridiculous. I’m totally rushing things. I just got out of a serious relationship only a few months ago. I thought I was going to marry the guy, for God’s sake. And now here I am imagining bringing this guy to my family’s house for Christmas dinner?

Clearly, I’m getting way ahead of myself.

“Sorry,” I tell him when I realize he’s still waiting for me to say something.

“Everything all right?” he asks quietly.

“I was thinking,” I admit to him, my voice just as soft.

His brows draw together. “What about?”

“You. Me.” I decide to be completely honest. What’s the point in playing games and being coy? I have no issues with flirting, and we’ve been doing that all evening.

Hiding my feelings, though? That gets me nowhere. I refuse to ever do that again when it comes to relationships. I did that enough with my ex, like I was afraid to tell him how I felt.

“You and me, huh?” His lips kick up faintly. I think he likes the idea.

So do I. Again, I’m getting way ahead of myself, but it’s like I can’t stop.

“Yes,” I say with a firm nod. “The idea of us.”

“As in you like the idea?” Those furrowed brows are now rising up his forehead. He seems hopeful.

I know I’m feeling hopeful.

“As I’ve mentioned before, you’re not my usual type,” I admit.

“Same for you,” he returns quickly. “But that’s not really stopping me.”

“It’s not stopping me either.”

My confession sits between us as we stare at each other, and I get lost in his blue eyes for a moment. They seem darker than usual, or maybe that’s just the dim lighting in the restaurant. Slowly they start to sparkle, until he’s reaching across the table, his hand finding mine.