I force myself to stare up at him and take a deep breath. “I’m autistic. I didn’t tell you right away because I never tell anyone right away. I’ve just learned it’s best not to bother with the work of explaining until I know someone’s really in my life. Now that we’re doing this . . . fake relationship, trying to be friends, it’s real and I want to be honest about who I am.”

Jamie immediately steps closer and slowly clasps my hand, squeezing once. Silence holds between us. The kind of silence that I’m starting to realize he likes as much as I like it, silence that makes space for daydreams, for time and patience to find the right words.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says quietly. “For trusting me.”

I smile, relief buoying me up until I’m floating on the sidewalk. “You’re welcome.”

“If there’s anything I can do to make things easier between us, will you tell me?”

My heart tumbles. Dammit. Why is my fake boyfriend so perfect?

“I’ll tell you, Jamie. Promise.” I take the first step down the sidewalk, his hand still in mine. But on my next step, my arm extends and then goes no farther, making me stumble back. Jamie stands rooted to the pavement.

“Beatrice?” he says.

“Yes, James.”

Gently, he tugs me closer, until we’re nearly chest to chest, his eyes holding mine. “That means a lot, that you told me.”

“It means a lot that you didn’t act like you see me differently now.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as the wind whips it across my face. “I don’t see you differently. I see you better.”

My heart leaps and clatters against my ribs. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

Swallowing thickly, he squeezes my hand. “I . . .” He clears his throat. “One good turn deserves another: I have anxiety, compulsions. I take medication and go to therapy.”

I squeeze his hand again, my thumb sweeping in soothing circles. “Thanks for trusting me, too. Just how you said—tell me if I can do something to make things easier with us.”

Jamie peers down at me seriously, his gaze traveling my face. “I will.”

I smile. “Good.”

It’s quiet as we stand facing each other, seeing the other with fresh eyes. It feels like the first time in front of a lover, right after peeling off my clothes. Naked. Nervous. Thrilled. I’m as fascinated as I am self-conscious. I think Jamie is, too.

But as we resume our stroll, I find myself relaxing. And also glancing up at him more than I should, seeing him in this new light.