“I’m so sorry.” I take a step toward her, but force myself to stop. “And I’m so sorry that I left without telling you why.”

“You could have trusted me,” she says.

“I know that.”

We stare at each other for a few beats. The smell of sweet tea is rising from the garden, and the katydids seem to be singing their hearts out, and for a split second I allow myself to rest in the now. She might say no. But right at this moment there’s still a possibility.

Then she says, “My mom might be keeping the house. She’s out tonight, meeting up with an old friend, and um…” She hesitates. “We talked about spending the rest of the summer here, and maybe even transferring here for my senior year. My mom is considering taking a sabbatical so we can have a lot of quality time together before I leave for college.”

My heart jumps. Soars, really. Is she saying what I think she’s saying? Theoretically, this is the greatest news ever, but her face doesn’t seem to be matching the marching band in my chest. What does her staying in Salem mean for us?

Is there an us? Reality seizes me then. If her body language is any indication, there might not be.

“That’s great,” I blurt out. It’s great on a lot of levels, not the least of which is the fact that Willow is telling me she may be staying in Salem for an extended period of time. Only a day ago I’d known deep down that this was the beginning of something big, but now that I’ve broken that trust, that future might be over. That thought grows large and expansive, filling up my chest, and if there was ever any doubt about how I feel about her, that doubt is now completely wiped out. I want to be with Willow. Today, and tomorrow, and for as many days as she wants to be with me after that. Maybe even more importantly I want us to start now. Even if it means getting my heart smashed to smithereens, I have to try.

“Willow?” I take a deep breath. “The other night when we were here. When I kissed you, and when I said that it felt like a beginning? I meant that. I really did.”

And there it is. My heart.

A noise that sounds suspiciously like a window being stealthily opened comes from above, but Willow’s eyes are on me, so I keep going. “I really, really like you.” “Like” feels too little, but if she gives me the chance, there will be time for other, bigger words. “I can tell you everything. You’re funny and sweet and beautiful. And literally everything is more fun with you.”

Her face is still completely blank. Except, is that a tiny hint of a smile? “What’s more fun with me?” she asks.