Definitely, Maybe in Love

“There’ve been mistakes…screw-ups, and I wish there was some kind of magical phrase I could turn to explain, to tell you…” I trailed off and groaned. “Yes?”

I’d stopped speaking when Henry’s mouth popped open, dying to butt in. He was holding up one finger now.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Sorry,” he said. “But I have to interrupt here.” He scooted around so we were sitting across from each other on the cool grass. The light from the streetlamp was shining in my favor now, illuminating Henry’s face. I could see a little welt—approximately the size of my Doc Martin heel—swelling on his forehead. I could also see that he’d just lifted a tiny smile.

“I have no intention of turning this into one of those lectures you find so irritating, but I do want to let you in on a few things.”

“Okay?”

“Number one, I really blow at reading between the lines, so don’t bother trying to drum up some idiom that isn’t one hundred percent clear. Two, I’ve known you long enough to know there’s not a person on this earth who can argue you into something you don’t already believe.” He lifted another half smile. “A lawyer’s worse nightmare. Third and lastly…”

From his expression, I knew he was considering, formulating the sentences in his head before speaking. Some things never changed.

“Lastly, as much as I enjoyed being with you that night at the ranch, and when we were camping, and…in my kitchen.” He took a decisive pause, looking me in the eyes. I felt that pile of hot bricks on my chest from all those nights ago. “Well,” he continued, “that wasn’t exactly the way I wanted it then, and it’s definitely not the way I want it now.”

His last declaration threw me. Just like that, hot bricks dissolved into cold liquid.

“You don’t…” I could barely speak. “You don’t want me now.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. “Don’t want you?” he repeated slowly. “Springer.” He reached across the darkness and took my hand. “I have never wanted anything in my life more than you.”

I felt like the weight of the world had flown from my shoulders as I gazed at him, his lips pulling back into a smile. I reached out to touch his face, but he caught my wrist.

“This goes no further,” he said, lowering my extended arm down to my side, “until I hear it from you.” He removed his other hand from mine, sat back on his heels and folded his arms. “I need this, Spring. I need to hear it.”

A set of battling creatures descended upon my insides. One was attempting to calm me, while the other filled me with a totally different kind of nervousness. Because I knew what Henry was after.

Never in my life had I said those words. I’d tried to show him before, but that wasn’t enough. Henry was braver than me, he’d already said it months ago, fearlessly. I was not feeling as brave.

He sighed impatiently. “Are you going to say it?” he asked. “You know you want to.” There he was again, that confident, self-assured, sexy Greek hero who was completely certain of everything he did. His delicious lips pressed together, hiding a smile as he inched closer. “Because I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. I traveled for three days straight. The last day was in your car, listening to the only CDs you had in there. Alanis Morissette on repeat. She’s stuck in my head.” His angel face twisted with exaggerated pain. “Any idea what that’s doing to me right now?”

“You listened to Alanis?”

“And Fiona.” He shrugged good-naturedly, charmingly. “Though I think I prefer—”

“Henry,” I cut him off, scooted forward on my grass-stained knees and took his hands. “Henry Edward Knightly…the third,” I added in a whisper, giving him a knowing grin. I ran my hands up his arms. “You drive me absolutely crazy.” He chuckled softly and looked down. “You amaze me.” I lifted his chin. “And I love you.”

Before my voice had faded out, Henry’s arms were around me. It must change something in your chemistry when you kiss someone for the first time after saying I love you. I would never mock Julia or her theories again. Never.

The next thing I knew, we were down on the ground, adding new patches of green to our previously grass-stained clothing. Henry was already a mess, and personally, the more tangled and twisted he became, the more insanely attractive he grew. I lovingly extracted blades of grass from his hair, while he wiped whatever foliage it was that was stuck to the side of my face.

“Won’t it be interesting,” he whispered, pressing my hand against his chest, “to actually be with each other in broad daylight without feeling the need to hide behind a gas station?”

“What a kissing tramp you turned me into on our campout.”

That spicy, virile, distinctive quality that exuded from his pores was now seeping into my bloodstream. I welcomed it in with every breath.

“Hardly,” he said with a laugh, tugging my arm. I obliged by wrapping my top leg around his to further intertwine us. “I don’t believe it’s considered trampy if you’re dating.”

I rolled closer so I could burrow into his neck. That smell. “We weren’t dating then.”

He swept the hair from the nape of my neck, his finger tracing a swirling pattern over my skin. “Details,” he said. “But I would like to do this right, just the same.”

“Do what?”

Henry lifted his head off the grass, propping it on an elbow. “May I take you out?” he asked. “A proper date. The first of millions.”

“Only if you tell me something,” I said, feeling a thrill in the security of a million dates to come with the man I did not plan on living without. “Three things, actually.”

He smiled inquisitively. “You have them numbered?”

“They’re important.”

He tucked some hair behind my ears. “Fire away.”

“First. Why didn’t you call me?”

“When?” he asked, running a hand up and down my arm.

“Well, ever, generally speaking, but yesterday or today to be specific.”

“I was driving. It’s dangerous to—”

“I didn’t know where you were,” I couldn’t help interrupting, squeezing his shoulder. “I didn’t know what was happening.”

He seemed puzzled by my statement. “Wait. Didn’t you know?”

“Apparently not.”

“Before you boarded the plane, I told you I would meet you back here.”

I peered at him. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I said—”

“Your exact words were: ‘I don’t know when I’ll see you again.’”

“Right. Well…and you didn’t understand what I meant?”

“You assumed with that sentence that I would know you were going to take off to Monterey, find Julia, bring her back to Palo Alto, leave again to Montana, drive back, and then come scaling up my wall like a knight in shining Armani?”

“Basically,” he said. “It was only three days.”

“Exactly.” I tapped his chest to add emphasis: “Three. Whole. Days.” I sighed at his baffled expression, but then pulled myself onto his chest and kissed him, because I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. “Henry, your communication leaves much to be desired.”

“I’ll work on it,” he promised. “And I’ll never make you wait three days again.”

I dipped my chin to kiss his neck, my hair spilling across his face. “Where did you go after that night you left the note?”

“I stayed with Dart in New York for a while,” he said, rolling us so we were on our sides, nose to nose. “He was completely pissed off at me when I told him I might have made a mistake about Julia.”