He was nervous. He was actually nervous, and that was the most ridiculous thing in the world because when was the last time he'd been nervous where a woman was concerned? Never, he figured. Maybe it wasn't nerves. Maybe he was just worried he was going to screw this up somehow. Or that he wasn't ready yet. Jeanne was still there, sometimes. A presence in his mind, the thought of her something like an ache in his chest. And he'd never believed in that crud before either.
After replying to the last message she'd sent, he double checked the hot chocolate (made properly on the stove, for her benefit), before moving to the door of the cabin. As he got there he heard the thuds of her boots on the steps outside. Glancing down at his shoes for just a moment, he looked up again and pulled the door open, mask of confidence in place. No nerves here.