Fifty-Seven
“Cary,” she said. “No.”
Cary’s eyes were wide and anxious. “No?”
“Not no,” Shiloh said, feeling breathless all of a sudden. “Not no specifically . But no generally . What are you doing?”
“I didn’t plan this,” he said. He looked terrified.
“Okay, good.” She reached for his arm. “Stand up.”
“No,” Cary said. “Let me finish.”
Shiloh’s heart was racing. She couldn’t let him finish. “Cary...”
He swallowed. “Shiloh, I have five years left in the Navy. I know you can’t leave Omaha. I know I can’t offer you the life
and partnership you deserve—”
“ Cary. ” Shiloh hadn’t eaten anything. She had to go to the bathroom. She felt faint.
“—but I’m weak.” His eyes were shining.
She touched his hair and shoulders. She pressed her palm over his mouth.
He pulled her hand away. He held it. “Shiloh, I love you—”
She stumbled down to her knees in front of him. Her skirt hit his legs. Cary dropped to both knees, too.
“Cary, stop—”
He didn’t stop. “I don’t want to spend another year—or another minute—without you. Without being what I’m supposed to be to
you.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
“I thought you hadn’t planned this!”
“I hadn’t planned to do it now.” He squeezed her hand. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t look at him.
“Shiloh.”
She looked at him.
“Will you marry me?”
At some point, she’d started crying. She laid her free hand on his cheek. “Cary, this isn’t good.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t want this.”
“I’m telling you what I want.”
“I’ve got too much,” she said. “Baggage. Sandbags. I can’t follow you all over the world.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I’m here, ” Shiloh said.
“I know.”
“For good.”
“Shiloh, I know.”
“And my kids—have you even thought about my kids? They’re only getting older and less cute, and you’d have all of the responsibility
but none of the joy—”
“Not none .”
“They’ll always be someone else’s. And he’s around, too.” Her voice was getting quieter, and her words were coming faster.
She couldn’t slow down. “Marrying me is like marrying four people, and one of them is my ex-husband. He’s clingy and manipulative,
and you can’t even complain about him, because the kids might hear. I only get half a life with my kids—you’d get a quarter . The bad quarter! And even if you give them your best, he’ll still be the guy they call ‘Dad.’ It’s too fucked up, Cary.”
She inhaled, too fast. She didn’t wait to catch her breath. “You wouldn’t be marrying a woman, you’d be marrying a mom . Someone who puts someone else’s kids first in every situation—”
“Shiloh.” Cary set the box down between them. He took her other hand. His voice was firm. “I’ve thought about your kids. I’m
ready to take this on.”
“How could you know that?”
“I don’t know!” He sounded frustrated. “How can I know it? How can I ever know it without pushing ahead?”
“We haven’t even dated,” she said. “Couldn’t we date?”
Cary looked disappointed. Hurt. “Do you want to date?”
She shrugged. She felt pathetic. “Why not?”
“ Because. Because we already know what we need to know.” He was holding her hands by the fingers. “There’s no getting to know each
other, Shiloh. You know me better than anyone. And I know you . If we’re together, then it’s already serious. I want to begin our life together.”
Shiloh was sitting back on her calves. She was crying. She lifted her arm to wipe her eyes on her wrist. Cary didn’t let go
of her hands.
“What do you want?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “A time machine.”
“I can’t give you the past,” Cary said. He squeezed her hands. “But we could have a future.”
She sniffed. She tried to look at him directly.
His hair was pushed the wrong way, curling a bit over his forehead. He was making a stern face, and the eyebrow makeup made
him look extra stern. His eyes were the same old spill of maple syrup. “I’m already yours, Shiloh. Do you want me?”
She nodded. Miserable. “Of course I want you, Cary. That’s not the question!”
Cary was sitting on his ankles, too. “That’s my question.”
She jerked on his arms. “I just can’t see this working out.”
“Then I’m doomed,” he said. “Because I only want to be with you.”
Shiloh sighed.
Cary leaned forward, holding their hands up between them. “I only want to be with you, Shiloh. Please let me be with you.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea...” she said again.
“Do you have a better one?”
Her shoulders slumped. “No.”
He rubbed her hands.
“Let me see the ring,” she said. Desultorily.
Cary straightened, his eyes going a little wild, and let go of her hands. He picked up the box, turned it toward her, and
opened it.
Shiloh leaned closer. The ring was silver with a round diamond. The band was intricate—twisted with filigree that looked like rope. “That’s pretty,” she said, already too interested. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“It’s yours,” Cary said. “If you want it.”
She looked up at his face. He still looked so serious, even when he was desperate. (She knew he was desperate.) She tried to wipe the paint off one of his eyebrows with her thumb. It smeared.
“I want it,” she said. “I want you. I just can’t stop thinking of all the ways this could go bad.”
“You think it’ll go better with someone else?”
“It’s more like—if it goes bad with someone else, it won’t be so devastating.”
“That’s terrible logic, Shiloh.” He was being gentle.
She felt her eyes filling again. “You told me you didn’t want to be that guy! Remember?”
Cary’s face fell. “I’m sorry—I panicked. I needed some time to think.”
She sniffed. “I think I need some time to think.”
“Okay,” he said. He looked down. After a second, he closed the ring box.
“Wait—” Shiloh put her hand over the box.
He looked up at her, more with his eyes than his head. “Wait?”
“I can’t not say yes to you,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself, feeling her chin pucker, blinking out a few more tears.
“If you’re still asking.”
Cary raised an eyebrow, confused. “I thought you wanted to think.”
“I want to say yes, and then I want to think.”
“Is that a tentative yes?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s more like a yes with an asterisk.”
“What’s the footnote?”
“It’s like ‘ yes, ’ asterisk, and then ‘ Let the record show I think this is probably a bad idea .’”
He took her hand again. “But you still want... to be with me?”
“Cary,” she said, chastising him, “I always want that. I’m obviously in love with you.”
“Obviously?”
She nodded her head.
His eyes were wide again. “Shiloh... will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Asterisk.”
Cary whispered, too: “Let the record show you think this is a bad idea.”
“Let the record show I’m terrified of losing you completely.”
After a second he let go of her hand and opened the ring box. He took out the ring. “Do you want this?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. She didn’t hold out her hand, so he picked it up.
The ring slid easily over Shiloh’s knuckles. She shivered. Her fingers were trembling. When she closed her mouth, her teeth
chattered.
“You okay?” Cary asked.
She nodded. She held out her hand so they could both see. “It’s pretty,” she said.
“We can have it resized. It’s white gold.”
“It’s pretty,” she said again.
“Yeah.” Cary’s voice broke. He lifted Shiloh’s chin, rubbing his thumb along the scar there. His eyes were searching, shining.
“You want to try this with me?”
Shiloh nodded, without moving her head out of his hand. “Yeah. I do.”
When Cary kissed her, he pushed her head back.