Definitely, Maybe in Love

He seemed mystified by my reaction, because he only stared at me. A moment later, he sighed and the lines in his forehead smoothed out. “The invitation might seem out of the blue to you, but I’ve been thinking about it, about you, a lot, and you know how I feel…”

He looked into my eyes and leaned in.

I almost allowed it to happen. Part of me wanted it, wanted him, needed him. I could practically taste the delicious water waiting to quench my aching pain and thirst. My hands longed to touch him and feel him one more time, while another part of me knew better, and I followed its command.

“Don’t,” I said, scooting away and standing up. “Don’t do that.”

Knightly remained on the edge of the couch, looking a little rattled. “Why are you so upset?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Hmm, where should I begin?”

When he rose to his feet, I stepped back, keeping a distance. Henry stopped and watched me guardedly, like he was waiting to see if my head was about to burst into flames.

“Spring,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned and more than a little anxious. “What’s really going on? What’s wrong?”

“This plan of yours,” I began. “You expect me to drop out of Stanford, leave my whole life, and fly across the world?”

He moved toward me cautiously, his hands out like a cowboy approaching a wild mustang. “I’m sorry if I was undiplomatic about it. I’m not romantic, but I am only thinking of you. You can take a break there, finish your thesis. It’s all arranged.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? You’re insane, you’re— Why are you laughing?”

He slid his hands in his pockets, his huge grin about to break. “I so enjoy when you get like this.”

“You enjoy when I’m angry?”

He took a beat, his brows furrowing. “No, not angry,” he corrected. It was one of the few times I’d seen him backpedal. “You know when I’m just pushing your buttons.”

“You need to leave,” I said, realizing my do-not-argue plan had failed. “Right now.”

His smile dropped. “Why?”

I nodded toward the door, but he didn’t move. “I swear, Henry Knightly”—my voice was getting louder and higher pitched—“if you don’t leave this instant—”

“Spring.”

I jabbed a finger at the door, demanding that he go.

“I’m not leaving.” He took a step forward. “I’m in love with you.”

I blinked, and air whooshed from my lungs in one hard gust. “What did you say?”

He took another step. “I love you.”

For a moment, I still couldn’t breathe—I was in shock, his simple words derailing my anger completely. But the moment was up as quickly as it had come. He might as well have said his favorite color was blue.

“So?” I said, forcing my voice to regrip the anger.

I could both see and hear him take in a sharp breath.

“So?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I love you and I want you…to come with me, to be with me.”

“You seriously think I’ll run away with you because that’s what you happen to want at the moment?”

Words were flying at me, I could actually see them in my mind’s eye, forming into sentences. Aiding and abetting these words were memories from the past, bruised feelings that were supposed to be gone, that I thought were gone. I only had to open my mouth and they came tumbling out.

“May I remind you that the night we met you treated me like an ingrate? You were rude and judgmental because of what you heard and because of the way I looked, like I was beneath your dignity.”

“That’s not true.”

“Why don’t you take Lilah to Tahiti? I’m sure she’d be thrilled to pick up where you two left off.”

Knightly turned completely white. I thought this would please me, but it didn’t. In fact, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me again. Once more, I wanted to go to him, to take back my words, to wrap my arms around him until the hurt in his eyes went away. In some sick, ironic twist, I knew that comforting him would comfort me. If the past didn’t exist, nothing would be in our way.

But the past was rushing back, too quickly for me to block, and it was very real.

“Lilah, Henry!” My voice broke. “What were you thinking?”

At that point, I didn’t know if I wanted an explanation from him, or an apology, or what. All I knew was suddenly the thought of them together was revolting.

He spread his hands. “Lilah was… Spring, she means nothing to me. It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” I repeated. “You have sex with her and that’s nothing? Even you can’t be that crass.”

He dropped his hands but didn’t reply.

“Is that what you expect out of me, too? I’m so sorry I disappointed you by not tearing off my clothes in front of the campfire.”

“I wasn’t going to sleep with you last night. It’s been one day, we’re not…” He trailed off and thrust another hand through his hair. “Lilah was a mistake that I’ve regretted every day since. Believe me.”

“Yeah, sure,” I scoffed, remembering how she was all over him at the street party. Sure, he hadn’t looked extremely into it, but I never witnessed him fighting her off.

“Well, I’m certain your family took to her much more than they ever would to me. Now you’ll never have to worry about what they’ll think.” I was so mad my mind went blank, yet the words kept flying out like darts aimed at his heart. “I know all about your family, and your sister. Alex told me everything.”

Knightly’s face warped from white to red. “Don’t believe anything he says,” he muttered, almost like a threat. “I warned you to stay away from him.”

“You warned me?” I echoed. “For your information, Alex told me about the crap- load of things you did to him in high school.”

“Me?” He pointed at his chest, sounding indignant. “To him?”

I nodded firmly. “And you obviously haven’t changed. You’re still duplicitous to anybody who happens to not have a million dollars in the bank.”

“That’s absurd,” he muttered, pacing the room like a flea-bag lawyer working a jury. He stopped and took a few breaths, raking both hands through his hair. “So that’s the reason you’re upset.” He dropped his chin and exhaled, calming himself down. “Do you honestly believe what he told you?” When I didn’t reply, he spun around. “It’s not true,” he said, his voice full of entreating. “You know me.”

“Do I?”

I’d spoken aloud, but I was asking only myself.

I don’t remember him reaching out or holding me by the arms, but there he was. His hands moved up to my shoulders, slight pressure to keep me still, reminding me of last night.

“Yes, you do,” he said softly, staring into my eyes. “Think. Please.”

So I did. About him, and about me. About what I thought to be the truth, and what I felt was true down to my toes. His kindness toward his friends, his brilliant mind, his patience with me, how strong I felt when we were together, how he challenged me and made me fight for what I believed in. From day one.

The anger was dissolving, and the queasiness settled. Because, yes, I knew.

“I…I guess I’m not sure what really happened between you and Alex,” I admitted softly. “And maybe it doesn’t matter, because what I feel…” He gripped my shoulders, easing me toward him. “I feel…” I touched his face, my fingers running across his chin, his parted lips, resting on his cheek.

Henry placed his hand over mine and exhaled, long and ragged, his whole face showing exquisite relief. In unison, we shifted our weight.

But suddenly, I was thinking again of those things I knew about him, one being how he treated his friends. Like a flash, I recalled what had brought us to that room in the first place.