Page 78 of The First Kind of Love
Thighs straining, worry runs a similar gauntlet through the self-imposed obstacles in my mind. “Shiloh!” I scream, ignoring the judgmental (and frankly concerned) looks from idling bystanders.
If it wasn’t for the tight security and the fact that public nudity is frowned upon, I would’ve ditched my tux jacket and shirt ten minutes ago with how much I’m sweating. I haven’t stopped for a full breath since I stepped in the airport.
With an unsettled stomach and my exhaustion gauge tipping into the lowest of reds, I maneuver through a particularly congested pack of flight-goers, and I nearly take out a kid in the middle of the walkway. I’m pretty sure his mother cusses me out, but all I can hear is the pounding war drum of blood in my ears.
“Shiloh!”
One ungainly step after another, disappointment falls over me like a dying star hurtling through the cosmos and crashing to earth…and then I see her.
She’s in line to board her plane, lugging her carry-on andshrugging the strap of her backpack higher on her shoulder. Even in my questionable state of mind, she still looks as beautiful as the first day I saw her. Even after I completely wrecked her, she still shines like an event horizon in the pitch-darkness of space.
“Shiloh!” I call out to her, forgoing my manners and shoulder-checking people to get to her.
Her head whips around as her dainty features draw up in confusion, and then I’m colliding into her with enough force to knock over the three other flyers behind her. Her backpack clatters to the ground, and the fact that she doesn’t embrace me immediately makes guilt eat away at my insides like it has a sweet tooth for viscera.
“Fulton? What are you doing here?” she asks, part of her question muffled by my chest.
I don’t stop hugging her, not even when the line begins to filter into the enclosed passageway of the boarding bridge. It’s minimal, but I can feel her body soften against mine as if all the indignation has rolled off her like rain off the waterproof grooves of an awning.
God, I could fucking cry right now. I found her.I found my sunshine.
I pull away to let both of us breathe, my fingers digging into her arms in fear that she’ll become another blurry face in the nebulous landscape of my memory. “I’m so sorry, Shiloh. I’m so sorry that I didn’t support you as soon as you told me the news. I’m so sorry that I didn’t fucking follow you, because I should have. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you’d let me. I was a complete dick to dismiss you like I did back at the hotel. I can’t believe I evenassumedthat this decision wasn’t hard for you to make.”
“It’s okay, Ful?—”
“It’s not. You’ve always been there to support me. You’ve always been there when I needed you. You needed me backthere, and Ifailedyou. I’ll never forgive myself for the way I let you down.”
Shiloh hangs her head, and I need a goddamn cheat sheet to read her emotions. Is she mad? Sad? Maybe I’m too late. Maybe she doesn’t want me to come with her. Maybe I’ve ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me before it even really began.
But then, after a few agonizing seconds, her eyes lift to mine, populated with so many tears that each droplet begins to fall at a steady pace, almost too quickly for me to wipe away.
Almost.
Her throat clicks like a faulty pipe when my thumb brushes over her cheekbone. “You came.”
Long-sought laughter undermines the dread that had nearly hollowed me out. “If you think you can get rid of me that easily, you’re wrong.”
“As soon as I got in the Uber, I knew I made the wrong decision,” she sobs, her mouth slanted in a frown. “I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leaveyou. I always choose work first. And when you needed me to choose you, I didn’t. I hate myself. I hate that I wasn’t there to reassure you. I’m sorry, Fulton. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Shh, Sunshine. You don’t need to apologize. Your family and their legacy are important to you. I shouldn’t have taken your decision so personally. You’ve spent your whole life putting others before yourself, but I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to anymore, because there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to put you first. And that includes taking on some of your responsibilities.”
This time, Shiloh’s the one who initiates the hug, and there’s no rush to catch her flight as the rest of the passengers part into two separate streams around us. She’s got her fists buried in the back of my dress shirt, the occasional wail rackingher small frame. I encompass her in my arms, telling myself I’ll never let go.Ever.
“I-I can’t…a-ask you…to do that,” she cries.
I squeeze her tighter, determined to ward off the sadness for as long as I can, and even though she can’t see my face, there’s a smile lifting my cheeks. “You’re not. I want to help you. And there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind.”
An unconvincing rebuttal takes flight. “But?—”
“Look, we’re gonna figure this loan thing out as soon as possible. Hell,I’llinvest.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I believe in you. I want to be your partner in life, and a big part of your life is your family’s shop. So let me be a part of that too. Think of it as a loan. Or think of it as me investing in our future—ourfamily’sfuture.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”
