“No, I get it—it’s okay. How old is your mom now?”
“Seventy-three.”
“How’s her health?”
“She has emphysema.”
“I’m sorry, Cary.”
“She’ll never move,” he said, looking out the window again. “She has three dogs.”
Shiloh laughed. Cary’s mom had always had too many dogs. And too many kids. And too many relatives who needed a place to stay.
“Is she by herself?”
“No. My niece lives there with her kids. Angel.”
Shiloh nodded. She remembered Angel.
Shiloh badly wished that she still lived in the suburbs—so that she wouldn’t be driving Cary through such familiar territory.
She pulled into her driveway.
“You took down the fence,” he said.
“It fell down.”
“It looks good.”
Shiloh thought about asking him if he still wanted to go through with this. He already seemed different than he had in the parking lot. More stern. But she didn’t actually want to give him an out—she didn’t want to make it easy for him to walk away from her.
She got out of the car. Cary was right behind her. Following her up the steps. Reaching in front of Shiloh to get the screen door.
His mouth was behind her ear. “Is your mom home?”
“I don’t think so.”
Shiloh opened the front door, bracing herself for the sight of the living room. She wasn’t a complete slob—but she was a working mother with two kids and no desire to spend every free moment cleaning.
The living room was full of toys. Baskets of clean laundry. Potato chips.
“Sorry—” Shiloh started to explain.
Cary was still behind her. She felt his hand on her back. “Do you still have your old room?”
“No,” she said. “I’m in the old spare room.”
“Show me,” he said.
Shiloh nodded.
They headed up the stairs. There were more toys on the steps. And books. Papers. There were so many coats on the end of the banister that it looked like a troll.
Cary stayed right behind Shiloh. She turned to him, to apologize again—but he caught her mouth and kissed her. He put one hand on the back of her neck and held her there.
Cary was good at this. He probably got so much practice...
He was a thirty-three-year-old single man. He still had his hair, he was almost six feet tall. He was smart. Kind. Probably not an alcoholic. And everyone knew the Navy had the best uniforms...
