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The relief on his face told me just how much he needed my forgiveness. “It’s damn good to hear that. But there’s something I want to discuss with you.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Heather, I’ve spent this whole week trying to convince myself that whatever was happening between us had an expiration date. That when we left the island, we’d go back to our separate lives, and that would be it.”

I swallowed around a lump in my throat.

“And then you told me Louisville was one of the places you might move.”

I looked up sharply. “And you got weird.”

“Yeah.” He huffed out a short laugh. “I got weird.”

“Why?”

“Because I realized how badly I wanted you there.”

My heart skipped. “Really?”

“I wanted you in Louisville. I wanted to see you after this week. I wanted to take you on real dates and introduce you to my friends and have you over for dinner. Hell, I wanted to buy you a pink scarf I saw at the market because it reminded me of your hair.”

I blinked. “A scarf?”

“Pink. Bright as hell. I almost bought it, but then I started thinking about why I wanted to buy you a present, and I panicked.”

A laugh escaped me. “You really are ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve apparently turned me into a ridiculous man.”

He reached across the space between us, offering me his hand.

I hesitated. Then I placed mine in it.

His fingers closed gently around mine. “Heather, what we have isn’t nothing. It’s the most important thing that’s happened to me in a long damn time. You’ve gotten under my skin in a way I can’t explain. I think about you constantly. I want to tell you things I’ve never told anyone. And when I picture going home, I don’t want to picture a life without you in it.”

“Greyson…”

“I don’t care whether you move to Louisville. I mean, I’d love it if you did, but I’m not asking you to choose a school because of me. If you end up somewhere else, we’ll figure it out. I’ll travel. We’ll make it work.”

My heart was racing now. “Why?”

He looked almost confused by the question. “Because you’re worth it.”

I squeezed his hand. “But what exactly are you saying? What do you feel for me?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled.

“Honestly, Starlight? It feels a hell of a lot like love.”

Love.

He loved me?

Or at least, he thought he did.

And as I looked into his eyes, I realized that I’d been trying so hard to convince myself that what I felt was impossible simply because it had happened quickly.

But Angela was right. Maybe time didn’t matter. Maybe sometimes you just knew.