Definitely, Maybe in Love

to me. “Even cynics like you.”

I knew she was trying to help, but her comment made my chest feel hollow and achy. A short time ago, I didn’t know how to love, but now I didn’t know how to do without love.

“You’re fighting against your feelings, honey,” she added. “I know how exhausting that can be. So stop fighting and let it flow.”

“Flow?” I echoed, giving her my famous flat eyes.

She lifted a smile and walked toward the door. “Yes. Go with the flow.” Just as she was about to leave, she turned back. “Do you want to hang out with us tonight?”

“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” Honestly, the thought of being around a happy couple was enough to make me cry.

Julia nodded and opened the door.

“Bunny,” I called, stopping her. “If I haven’t told you, I’m really happy Dart’s back and that you’re, you know, okay.”

“Me too.” She folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I made mistakes, but I understand everything that happened now.”

I swallowed. “You do?”

She nodded slowly.

“Jules, I didn’t know how to tell you what I knew. I’m so—”

“It wasn’t Henry’s fault,” she cut in. “Not really.” She looked to the side and exhaled. “Mistakes,” she murmured to herself. “I made some, so did Dart. We all do. But now, it’s almost like we’re better than before because of it.” She gazed off for a moment. “Every second we’re together, I appreciate him more and more. All that time apart, all that wasted time. I’ll never be shy about my feelings again. Life’s too short, too precious not to love whenever we can.” She bit her lip, blinking back tears. “I learned that the hard way.”

“Yeah,” I managed to choke out, and then watched her leave the room.

Later that evening, I sat alone on my bed. The sun had set hours ago, but I hadn’t moved from my room since Julia left. Downstairs, Anabel was hosting an intimate party for twenty. I bowed out with the excuse about needing to write my congressman.

My room was dim and cool, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside my open window as sounds from the sidewalks below drifted up. The moon was high and Stanford’s summer populace was alive and ripe.

My fingers clasped behind my head and I stared up at the ceiling. Thinking. Trying not to think. The night grew darker as evening progressed. When I rolled over, my gaze moved naturally to the open window. Just knowing his house, his empty bedroom, was across the street crushed my Styrofoam heart anew. I quadruple-checked the ringer on my phone. Never before had I experienced such a lack of control over my thoughts.

Spring, I don’t know when I’ll see you again.

The intellectual part of me had no desire to keep mulling over the possible meaning of Henry’s last statement, so I forced it out. But with no other occupation, my thoughts did wander around the memory of the sound of his laugh…how we’d laughed together, how I admired his mind, loved his music, how he’d kissed my braid—one of the sweet ways he showed his acceptance and respect. The way he pushed my buttons just to make me laugh at my own reaction. How he dealt with me and handled me and let me go it alone, yet never took my crap.

The way he truly was so very good.

With my eyes closed, I imagined us in some future setting…whispering in the dark, sharing a pillow, asking how the other slept.

I drifted to the window and knelt down, resting my elbows and chin on the sill. The cool night air felt nice. “He’ll be back,” I whispered. “I know he’ll be back.” Just saying the words aloud made me feel slightly better, as if my faith in us was enough. He’d had faith in us for all those months, and now it was my turn.

I listened to the happy hums of the world below. As the breeze picked up and knocked the blinds against the side of the window, I opened my eyes, their gaze idly drifting across the street.

What they landed on made my blood stop cold. I blinked, sharpening my focus.

Parked crooked in his driveway was…

My Subaru.

I sprung out the third-story window, sliding down the ladder as fast as I could.

Twelve more steps, I counted, my fingers gripping around the rope handle. Eight more. My heart pounded behind my ears. In my haste, I did notice that no lights were on in his house, not even the bedroom on the second floor where he might be. I’ll be there three seconds sooner if I jump…

“Don’t!”

From directly below, I heard the warning shout, but it was abruptly cut short as I plummeted toward the ground. We collided mid-air, tumbling onto the lawn in a heap. Mine would’ve been a perfect ten-point landing had the intruder’s body not been blocking my way. Instead, I lay on my side, dazed and spitting out grass.

“Whoever you are,” I wheezed once my body regained its equilibrium, “I don’t have time to explain the theory of private property or breaking and entering.”

The prowler was behind me on hands and knees, quietly gasping in the shadows. I knew I’d probably knocked the wind out of him, and deservedly so! I didn’t have time to worry about him, my only thought was to make it through that door across the street and up those stairs.

“I won’t call the cops this time,” I added, rolling onto my knees. “But you should know I sleep with a wrench under my pillow.”

“Feels like you used it on me.”

I wheeled around to find Henry rubbing his forehead.

“Are your shoes made of cement, woman?”

“Knightly?” My eyes strained, pulling in every bit of light from the streetlamp.

“I saw you at the window.” He crawled over, a hand still at his forehead.

“Did I hurt you?” I asked, only half feeling the pain shooting from my own right shoulder.

“It’s nothing.” One side of his face was matted with grass and dirt. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I saw my car and…”

He angled his chin to the light. To say the sight was soul-shaking might be a dramatic stretch, but that’s how I felt as our eyes met in the dark.

“How long have you been back?” I asked, silently praying he wouldn’t inform me that he’d been around for days and was just now finding the time to pop in and say hello.

“Exactly”—he squinted at his watch—“one minute and twenty seconds.” His face was tired and a little weathered, his clothes and hair uncharacteristically disheveled. He noticed my wondering stare. “I left home seventeen hours ago,” he explained, smoothing out his collar.

“Oakland?”

“No,” he replied, looking a little confused at my assumption. “The ranch. I flew back right after dropping off Julia and Dart, then drove back here in your car.” He was brushing grass from the knees of his pants. “You need to have your tires rotated. I would’ve done that along the way, but I know how you are about accepting unrequested favors.”

I think I was nodding, but only half listening to his small talk. There were a few things I needed to say, because, like my sweet roommate had said, life was too short to wait.

“Henry.” I jumped in before his voice had time to fade out. “Julia told me what you did for her.”

His brow furrowed, playing confused.

“Thank you. I know it must’ve been…unpleasant.” I exhaled a dark laugh. Obviously unpleasant was an understatement.

“You don’t have to—”

“Please. I need to say this.”

The lines in his forehead disappeared as he nodded and sat back.