“Send her the actual mileage. Ask for a plan that does not assume a race.”
It was behavioral and verifiable—better than a promise to become a different person.
“I am angry you waited,” I said. “I am angry you changed the route and lied.”
“I know.”
“But I do not respect you less because you had a panic attack.”
Dani’s face folded. She looked away. “I do not know how to believe that.”
“You do not have to believe it tonight.”
Her breath shook. “You are staying?”
“I am staying for this conversation. Tomorrow will still exist. So will the questions.”
She accepted that. Not the reassurance she wanted; the accurate one.
After a long silence, Dani said, “I hate being seen.”
“I do.”
“Do not make it sound romantic.”
“I did not.”
We sat together. No kiss. No performance. Just the quiet after truth.
Eventually, Dani asked, “Do I still get the real date?”
Warmth moved through me despite the anger. “After the half marathon.”
“Why after?”
“Because I do not want the race affected by an emotionally complicated evening.”
“You say romance like it causes inflammation.”
“It can affect sleep.”
“Food, conversation, no sponsor camera?”
“Public location. Clear menu.”
“No kissing?”
“We decide at the time.”
Her fingers locked around mine. “After the half.”
“After the half.”
Dani lifted our joined hands.
“Can I hug you?”
“Yes.”
