She can't remember when her answer stopped being no.
Maybe it was the dance, when they'd both had an awful night and he offered her the thing she'd wanted most; a dance, a slow dance with someone who could look into her eyes and smile, who could leave her breathless with their tenderness.
Maybe it was when he held out the bouquet of tulips and asked her if she could love him.
Maybe it's when they're sitting on his couch and the little box falls out of his pocket, and he's blushing and she's staring and he just stammers it out, the thing he's wanted to say for years and years, and she starts to cry, and then she reaches for his hands and nods, and he can't stop kissing her for hours.
All she knows is that as she stands here in a white dress, and Spencer asks her if she's ready, she is certain of her answer.