Slow Dance

by Rainbow Rowell

Cary kissed her through it. Long, sad kisses, with his hand cupped around the back of her head. These were kisses without hopes or ambitions. They were apologies. Eulogies.

Shiloh’s tears slid into the corner of her mouth. Cary licked them.

Shiloh liked being an emergency contact. She just wanted contact. She wanted to pull those old warm feelings through the empty years and into the present. She wanted to repot them here and find them a nice sunny window.

He was halfway across the ballroom before he realized what he was doing. He was going to end up on his knees, crawling to her.

“I can’t give you the past,” Cary said. He squeezed her hands. “But we could have a future.”

“It won’t be easy with anyone—it may as well be ‘not easy’ with someone you love.”

“I want to remember this day,” she whispered. “But I also want to have so many good days that this one gets lost in the plethora. Cary, I want to make you so happy that all your happy memories run together. I want the rest of your life to be a bright gold streak.”