He just knows me.

He knows me too well.

It scares me. Because I feel comfortable with him.

That was a date. It was utterly romantic, perfect. Incredible. I’ve rarely felt so…seen. Known. So intimate. I felt myself falling.

I felt myself toppling toward him. If we’d finished the date, we’d have sat on the dock looking at the stars and I’d have kissed him.

Invited him in.

Kissed him by the fire.

Kissing is as far as my brain goes, as far as I can allow thoughts to progress, but the full reality is there under the surface.

It’s happening. In some ways, it’s already happened.

Love again, Nadia.

Tears trickle.

How can I, Adrian? You were my love. You were my present and my future, my past, my everything. You WERE. Now you’re gone but my heart doesn’t totally realize it. Can’t quite accept it. I’ve learned to exist as a human without you by my side, but living again, without you?

To hold another’s hand. To let him into my heart, into my world. To put my body at his mercy. How do I do that again?

I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m not sleepy. I don’t want to drink. Can’t think clearly enough to read; I have no focus, no mental or emotional direction. I’m a ship without a keel or rudder, becalmed, just floating, spinning with the currents.

I never turned on a light, and I realize I’m sitting alone in the darkness, lost in my thoughts.

Wondering what would have happened if I’d stayed at the restaurant. If I’d opened the door for him.

Everything; nothing. The impossible—the inevitable?

I am drowning again. I was doing better, but one date, and I’m lost again. Did I really think by simply driving separately and paying for my own part of the meal that it would be less of a date? Less romantic, less intimate. Less meaningful.

I enjoyed it. It was beyond mere companionship, when I’ve been so lonely. Even with Nathan to talk to and hang out with, there’s a loneliness in holding your heart aloof. In keeping people out. I’ve kept even Tess out, to a degree. Kept her from seeing how destroyed I am. She knew, but I wasn’t showing her. With Nathan, I’ve kept the shell of ice around my secret heart, and that date melted it. That armor of uncaring cold melted in the candlelight and sunset warmth, in the glow of his smile and easy conversation, in the delicate complexity of good wine and the savory satisfaction of good food.

Now that secret, broken heart of mine is bare, unarmored, exposed. And I am absolutely terrified.