She dreads their dinner date and what it will bring. Awkward conversation is almost imminent. If he asks her what she's been up to she will have to lie. She has no choice but to lie as telling him that she's recently discovered that she is a witch is not an option. And she knows he will pick up on it. He's always had a way of reading her and he'll know if she lies.
Even if he doesn't know what she's keeping from him the knowledge that there's something there will come between them like a shadow cast on an empty street, drawing attention to itself and separating buildings from each other, creating distance. She hates to keep him from the truth but it is necessary.
It kills her inside because she's certain that relationships built on secrets and lies are doomed from the start. Why bother trying when the unspoken will eventually tear them apart? Why even try? Some things are not meant to be. Some things are far too complicated to work.
There's a flicker of a hope in her that maybe she's wrong. Maybe things don't have to turn out with the worst possible outcome. Maybe this can work. It's that thought that makes her try. Why not try?
Heartache is a risk made in any relationship. It's an excuse but a flimsy one at that. It isn't long distance. He isn't married or seeing someone. She is single. There are feelings, lest she admit it. And they have history along with a very decent amount of chemistry.
It makes sense. And yet as she pulls on a skirt and blouse and puts on her make-up the gnawing at her insides won't let up. This night will tell whether they will fall and break or if there's a chance, even the slightest chance, of a future. This night will determine it all.