Cary started packing up the board game.
Shiloh touched his forearm. “This was dumb of me.” She pulled her hand back. “I don’t know what I was trying to prove.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were right to consider whether I had the kids tonight. I can’t actually be a good friend and a good mom at the same time. Concurrently. On a weeknight. And you have enough on your mind... I should have seen that this would end up with you entertaining my kids. That we wouldn’t have a chance to talk.”
Cary peered up at her. “I didn’t expect you to ignore your kids while I was here.”
“I was wrong,” she said.
He smiled a little, going back to putting away the game.
“What?” Shiloh asked. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’m thinking that it’s still weird hearing you admit that you’re wrong about something... And I’m also thinking that youweren’twrong, necessarily.” He looked up at her. “I’m glad I came over. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in months—it’s probably been a year since I’ve had a home-cooked meal cooked by someone other than me.” He put the lid on the Chutes and Ladders box. “Now I know that I like split pea soup, I already knew I liked you and your kids... This was better than sitting alone in my hotel room. Or eating by myself at some Omaha restaurant that isn’t as good as I remember.”
She shifted her lips into one cheek. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“All that said...” Cary glanced away. He sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair, then looked back at her. “Do you want me to go now? Or can I stay and talk?”
She smiled. “You can stay and talk. I have to do bedtime though. It’ll be half an hour.”
“Can I have that beer?”
Shiloh was smiling too much, too big. She was glad her mom was upstairs. “Yes.”
“I’m going to check my email,” he said.
Shiloh got him a can of beer. She wasn’t much of a drinker, not since her first pregnancy. But her mom drank red wine and Coors Light, so there was usually some in the fridge.
When Shiloh got upstairs, her mom had Gus’s face washed and his pajamas on. The kids only took baths every couple nights or so.
“Did Cary leave?” her mom asked.
“No,” Shiloh said. “We’re going to talk awhile.”
“Nice. Very platonic.”
“It’s not like that.”
Her mom frowned at her. “Itshouldbe. You need to aim for the pins when it’s your turn to bowl.”
“Uh... yeah,” Shiloh said. “Well. I’ve taken my shot. And look, I have two little pins who are ready for bed. Say good night to Grandma, Gus-Gus.”
“No. Gus-Gus not go to bed.”
It took longer than a half hour.
Shiloh’s strategy as a single parent was to negotiate as little as possible—over food, sleep, television.
But Ryan was much more malleable, and the kids were constantly pushing at Shiloh’s boundaries, looking for a tear in the fence.
Gus seemed to sense that Shiloh wasn’t going to let him escalate to a full-blown tantrum with Cary downstairs. He pushed for an extra story, and Shiloh ended up lying in his bed, listening to him complain, until he complained himself to sleep.
