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She laughed. “Thank you. But what are we going to do about it?”
“Your dress?”
“No. Our nerves.”
I could think of a few ways to work out the nerves—none of which were part of her go slow edict. So I kept those thoughts to myself and shrugged. “Wine?”
She nodded. “That sounds perfect.”
The waitress came over to take our drink order, and Autumn picked out a bottle.
“You know,” she said, “when I first started dating again, my nerves were frayed. I canceled my first two dates because I couldn’t take the stress leading up to them. When I told my therapist about it, she suggested I write down a list of all the things I was nervous about and then a list of all the things I’m grateful for. It kind of sounds silly saying it out loud right now, but it worked pretty well for me.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t sound silly. It actually makes sense. Acknowledging a problem takes away its power.”
She nodded. “Want to try it? Since we’re both nervous?”
“Right now?”
“Yeah. We don’t have to write them down. Maybe we can just tell each other.”
“Alright. Ladies first.”
Autumn tapped her finger to her lip. “Okay…well…I’m nervous because I like you. And I’m afraid that if I allow myself to fall, I won’t see things I should see.”
Fuck. It hurt to hear how much that piece of shit had screwed her up. I reached across the table and took her hand. “A good man doesn’t have parts of himself he’s hiding, Autumn.”
She smiled sadly. “I do know that. But what I logically know and how my emotions handle things don’t always reconcile. I’m being honest about the things I’m nervous about.”
I nodded. “I get it.”
The waitress came over and brought the bottle of wine we’d ordered. She poured a small amount into a glass, and I deferred to Autumn to taste test.
She nodded. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”
“Would you like me to put an appetizer in for you while you look over the menu? We have homemade burrata today, and our fried calamari is one of our most popular dishes.”
I looked at Autumn, and she nodded. “I like both. Either is good with me.”
“We’ll take one of each, please.”
After the waitress disappeared, Autumn said, “So what about you? What are you nervous about? You said you were nervous about screwing up. But is there anything in particular that concerns you?”
I drank some of my wine and debated how honest to be. Realizing I was again filtering my thoughts, even when she had been frank with her answer, I decided to say screw it and go with complete honesty.
“I’m nervous because I’m crazy about you, and I’m afraid that if you see the truth about where I am, I’ll scare you away.”
Autumn smiled. “You’re crazy about me?”
“You can’t tell?”
She bit her lip. “Can I make another confession about something that makes me nervous?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t trust my own judgment anymore. So while I did sense how you felt, a part of me has been busy making up other reasons you’re interested in me.”
My brows drew together. “Like what?”
Autumn sipped her wine. “Well, you’re competitive, and sometimes men are attracted to women who don’t show an interest in them.”
“You think I’m playing a game?”
She shook her head. “I don’t… Well, not really. But that’s the thing—when you’ve lost trust in your own judgment, you overanalyze everything until you find something wrong. It’s like a compulsive need to find doubt in myself.”
I understood the psychology behind that, but I didn’t know how to quell the voices in her head. I supposed the only thing I could do would be to talk to them. So I closed my eyes.
“You have a little scar on your right knee. You put cinnamon in your coffee, but if it’s not your normal brand, you run your finger over the top of the shaker and taste test it. You also like to rummage through kitchen cabinets that aren’t yours when you think no one is watching. When you’re thinking about a problem, you tap your pointer to your lip, but when your thoughts are dirty, you bite it instead.”
I opened my eyes to find Autumn’s wide. “How do you know all that?”
“I saw you rummage through my kitchen cabinets the weekend we spent together. You thought I was sleeping, but the bedroom door was open a crack, and I could see you in the kitchen.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
I shrugged. “Because I wanted you to rummage through my cabinets if it made you happy.”
“How did you know about the scar on my knee?”
“You took a nap on the couch while we were watching a movie, and I couldn’t stop staring at you. I wanted to memorize every freckle, every curve…”
Autumn’s mouth was agape. She swallowed. “I guess I do tap my lip with my finger, too.”
