He opened his eyes. “It’s possible. And you’d get spousal benefits.”
“I’ve already got health insurance.”
He started to say something, but she covered his mouth. “Cary.You’re getting your way. Be happy for a minute.”
His eyes were focused on her. They softened.
She kept her hand on his mouth. “Mikey says we’re too much alike. That we both have to be in control. Is that going to get us in trouble?”
Cary shook his head. After a second, he pulled her hand away. “We’re just going to argue a lot.”
She laughed. “And that’s okay?”
“It’s okay with me. Lie down.”
“No.” She sat up completely, remembering something. “I need to see your tattoo.”
Cary groaned.
She lifted up his arm. The tattoo was over his ribs. Faded, but still clear. A small anchor and block letters, all in black:
HONOR.
COURAGE.
COMMITMENT.
“They’re the Navy’s core values.” His forearm was lying on his forehead. His eyes were closed again.
Shiloh stroked the tattoo with her palm and then her thumb. It wassmooth except for a small welt along the anchor. “I’ve never thought of you as a tattoo person.”
“I was fresh out of boot camp and full of myself.”
“Do you have more?”
“No. I regretted that one.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It should be enough to live it.”
Shiloh stroked his ribs. “Symbols are nice.”
He opened his eyes. He reached into the neck of her T-shirt and pulled out the dog tag. “When did you put this on a chain?”
“Freshman year. After you left.”
He tugged on it. He looked sad. Then embarrassed. “You don’t have to, but will you keep wearing it?”
“I’ll wear it until you come home again,” she said. “I’ll let you take it off.”
Cary made a fist over the chain. He closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I love that idea so much. It makes me feel like a teenager.”
Shiloh leaned closer. She kissed him. “Feel like a teenager, Cary.”
Shiloh heated up their dinners and brought them upstairs.
“You’re getting gravy on your sheets,” Cary said.
