Something had happened in the last few weeks. It started when I came down to his uncle’s studio to paint. I worked nonstop for twelve hours until I’d gotten a good preliminary drawing of the house down. It was 10:00 p.m. Gavin was there, too, and he offered to grab some beer. He came back instead with a merlot he knew I liked, and brie and grapes and crusty bread. He laid down a giant sheet speckled with dry paint and poured generous amounts of the wine into mugs he’d made himself, in the ceramics class in which we re-met.

Soon I was laughing at his wine smile, the purple smudges dotting the corners of his mouth, and as I leaned over to wipe them off with my thumb, he kissed me, his lips salty with cheese, supple from the alcohol. I leaned in, thirsty for more, until I realized what we were doing.

“Are you still seeing that girl?” He said no, that they had broken up last week, and pulled me back in, his fingers tracing the curve of my chin. And I crawled into his lap, an empty mug rolling off into the distance, as I tasted him for the first time in years, getting to know him again, his new muscles, his body matured into adulthood.

We stayed like that, exploring each other, until morning. And it made me embarrassingly, deliriously happy. He was back with me, in his rightful place, and this time I wouldn’t let him slip away.

And now we are on a weekend trip together. And it’s funny because even though we dated almost a decade ago, it’s still surreal that we can do this, go off without any supervision, for days at a time.

“It’s getting cold. Want to head over to Westwind? The drive’s about thirty minutes.” I nod, taking Gavin’s gloved hand in mine. We’re meeting Georgia, who had responded to my Facebook request and my message enthusiastically, happy to meet me.

We slide into the Zipcar, and Gavin blasts the heat, letting the car idle for a moment. He reaches across the console to take my hand again. “Are you nervous?”

I am. But I’m not sure why. It’s like I’m expecting some impending doom, even though I have no reason to anticipate a soul-crushing disappointment. Dr. Ihm said that was normal, that I had become used to associating anything family-related with trauma. That any new relationship I formed would be contaminated by mistrust. She mused that that was why I was with Gavin again, that he was someone steady who I knew well. I didn’t disagree.