When she pulls away, I don’t want to let go out of fear that I’m going to lose her again.

She asks me more about how my private investigator found out about her, but I don’t know any of the details.

I told her that the man I dated at the time had a lot of connections and he worked for him.

“Well, he did one hell of a job,” she says.

Suddenly, my body begins to shake.

“What? What’s wrong?” Josephine puts her arm around me.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper. “I was just so worried about coming here. I thought I was going to have a panic attack. I thought that for sure you were going to slam the door in my face.”

“No,” she says categorically. “No, I would never do that.”

“I know, now,” I say with a whimper.

I give her another hug and ask if we can talk about something else. A big smile comes over her face.

I spend a few more hours there, taking turns telling her about my life and listening to hers.

Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I tell her that I have to go.

I don’t want to.

I want to stay and spend as much time with her as possible but I want to pace myself.

I don’t want to be one of those annoying guests that is fun to spend time with at first but who never knows when to leave.

I make a general suggestion that we should get together again this week, and she surprises me by asking if I want to have lunch tomorrow.

Driving back home, I feel almost lethargic.

All of the anticipation and anxiety has put a big stress on my adrenal system and now that the moment has passed all I want to do is sleep forever. When I get back to the Airbnb, I head straight to the bedroom and curl up under the covers.

I review everything that’s happened over and over again, somewhat unable to believe my own experience.

I thought that she would take her time accepting me.

I thought she would be more suspicious.

I’d prepared myself for that because that’s what all of the online forums said, no matter how much you may want to just run into her arms, she’s a stranger who feels bad about what she has done and you want to respect her boundaries.

The following day, things shift.

Josephine calls and says that something has come up and she has to reschedule.

“I’m free tomorrow,” I say a little bit too eagerly.

“No, actually tomorrow won’t work either. I have a lot of work to catch up on. I’ll get back to you in a few days. Hope that’s okay.”