I'll leave the room, because if I'm there it might not be an honest reaction and I'll need the honest reaction. And then I'll pace around in the hall a little, running through all the ways the conversation could go.
It'll be silly, worrying so much when it's still just the first scene. I'll imagine the game playing out in my head, trying to guess reactions. Now that it's too late, I'll realize a few ways to misinterpret what's going on that I'd never thought of before. Not that there could have been any way to get around those. A few times I'll suppress the urge to walk back in. Don't look desperate. Don't look desperate. I'll try doing other things, but my mind'll be back in that room. Nothing else will seem to matter.
I'll leave the house, wander around scared, hide in a corner, find that I don't feel any more safe in that corner, go back, eat some junk food, and go back to pacing. No, not pacing. Stop pacing. When she comes out, she shouldn't see you pacing. It's not important, no pressure. (By this point I'll be sweating.) No pressure.