“There was no privacy,” she finished his sentence with a soft smile and pressed her napkin into her lap, trying to force her nerves into behaving. Dinner with Ron wasn’t new - they’d been eating together for the better part of a decade, and just because they’d traveled back in time and had little chance to talk about the progression, or lack there of, that they’d made as whatever they could classify themselves.
Yes, she’d spent plenty of her time thinking about Ron. It wasn’t exactly something new to her routine. He was easy to daydream about, especially when things were so wayward. It was usually when he reminded her that she had a job to do that she reeled it in and got back to work. He was always there, though, being supportive in his own ways and reminding her that she was important, too.
As they sat at their table, she recognized that this might be a date. She hoped it was. She didn’t really want to wait until they got back home to sort out whatever it was that happened - or still could. “The farm is fine,” she added, staring at her glass of water. “Plenty of space to think. Right?”