I want to see you as much as you’ll let me.
Please don’t worry. We’re going to be golden, I promise.
Tell me when you’re coming. I’ll bake you a cake.
Fifty-Six
Cary had only been inside the Omaha children’s theater once, in junior high, on a field trip. It was a majestic old movie palace that had been refitted for live theater.
He was supposed to meet Shiloh here. She was going to show him around, and then he was going to take her to dinner. Mikey had suggested a Persian restaurant in the Old Market.
Cary had dressed up. Sort of. He was wearing navy blue pants and a button-down shirt. Mikey hadn’t liked any of Cary’s shirts, so he’d lent him one. It was a paisley pattern, and it was too tight—which Mikey said had been fashionable for years.“It’s fitted, Cary. That’s the thing now. It’s what they sell at the Gap.”
Cary walked into the theater. Shiloh was supposed to meet him in the lobby.
When he saw her at the far end, he almost started running.
Shiloh was talking to a man with red hair, waving her hands around. She was wearing a snug-fitting dress, and her hair was down, parted on the side.
Cary broke into a trot. “Shiloh.”
She turned her head. Her face lit up. “Cary!” She rushed toward him.
He stopped when he got to her. He wasn’t sure what to do next. She wasn’t sure, either. She started laughing, raising her palms in a nervous shrug.
Cary held out his arms.
“Okay, yeah,” Shiloh said, practically jumping into his arms.
She was hugging his neck—she smelled amazing. She felt amazing. He held on for dear life.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Shiloh said, right in his ear.
Her dress was sweater material. Her hair slid over his fingers, and her dress slid over her back. He wasn’t letting go. “Shiloh,” he whispered.
She pulled away a little, squeezing his neck, then his shoulders, pressing her hands into his shirt. “You look great. You look unharmed.”
“I am unharmed.”
“I love you unharmed.” She laughed, and he was close enough to see her bottom teeth. He hugged her again, and this time when it was over, she pulled away completely. “I want you to meet Tom,” she said. “He’s my only friend.”
“That’s not true...” the man behind her said, making an exaggerated sad face. He was a few inches shorter than Shiloh and wearing a gingham shirt. He held out his hand and winked. “I’m not actually her friend.”
“I was going to say,” Cary joked, “I thoughtIwas her only friend. It’s nice to meet you, Tom.”
Cary wanted his hands on Shiloh again. He couldn’t stop looking at her. He didn’t think he’d ever missed her this much. Not even in boot camp. Not even after.
“I just tried to call you,” Shiloh said. She seemed worried.
“My phone’s in the car—is everything okay?”
“Well.” She grimaced. “There’s a play on the main stage tonight, and I’m directing—which is fine, I don’t have to be there. But half the cast has norovirus. Wecouldcancel, but the Boys and Girls Club is coming—and I can do the mushroom princess, I know all the lines. And Tom can do the hedgehog and the wolf...”
“Tom must have range.”
“I do,” Tom said. “Thank you.”
Cary touched Shiloh’s upper arm. “It’s fine. We can go out after. Or tomorrow. Or both.”
