The next moments occur in slow motion. Henry’s eyes rake over my outfit, widening slightly as he takes in my overalls and shirt. He takes a step away from the table. Away from me. My mouth parts in understanding, realization hitting me like a bundle of dynamite, exploding as I begin to process what I’m seeing.

“You,” I finally say. My voice is shaky, and I can hear the uncertainty behind the single syllable.

Henry is JD?

Henry is who I’ve spent hours and hours talking to, giggling at his words and blushing at his compliments at 3 a.m. when he probably had a naked woman next to him?

Henry wants to fist my hair and wrap my legs around his waist while he kisses my mouth, finding out how I taste?

Henry wants to learn about my past, talk about a future and offer to… to bring a flashlight to navigate the dark moments of my life together?

This can’t be happening.

“What are you doing here?” I bravely ask, hoping for some purely coincidental twist of fate that has led him to the same coffee shop, wearing the same outfit JD said he’d have on, arriving at the exact time JD told me he’d be here.

“I… I’m JD.” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost indiscernible over the noises around us, the world continuing to spin on its axis without knowing the severity of what’s occurring feet away. The magnitude of the brewing catastrophe, two lives becoming interwoven even more so than they previously were.

Perhaps they’ve been destined to intersect this closely all along.

I have two options. Two choices glaring at me, forcing me to decide and pick which road I want to travel down. Which hand of cards I want to show. Do I want to up the ante and shove my chips to the center, bellowing out an enthusiastic “all in”? Would I rather fold, admit defeat and quietly exit the premises, never looking back?

“And I’m RB.”

The truth weasels its way into the universe before I can clamp down on the admission and reel it back in. It’s all I can say, the previous weeks of a budding relationship and emotional connection coming to a screeching halt as I feel my heart almost break in two at the understanding of there never, ever being an us. Not anymore.

A thousand thoughts fire through my brain, synapses working on overdrive as the questions begin to plague me.

Did he set me up? Is this all a game? Has Henry known who I was the whole time, laughing on the other side of the phone while I revealed more and more of myself to him? My stomach clenches at the negativity and I grind my teeth together, willing myself to stay strong and to get to the bottom of this.