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I’m ready to do what Amy wanted me to.

To live. To love.

To beg the woman I’m in love with to take me back.

I just need to tell my former in-laws.

Pastor Williams rounds the corner with a big smile, outstretching his hand.

“I’m so glad you’ve come,” he says. He hesitates before he pulls me in for a hug and we slap each other’s backs.

We talk about our families, the weather. The upcoming event at the brewery, a companion to our nineties-themed party we had last year. It’s Y2K, and I’m expecting lots of boy band costumes.

I wheel in the boxes on the dolly I brought, and Marla goes for the books immediately. Marla cries again.

“When Amy was a little girl, we used to go to the library twice a week. It was an obsession.”

She pulls out all sorts of books. Hardback books, paperbacks. When she got to the bottom with the childhood books, Marla pulls out a small paperback.

“Amy loved this one. So much. She asked us to get a beagle constantly. We always said no dogs because we weren’t home a lot, but we really should’ve gotten one.”

She shows me the book, and my stomach drops.

The book is calledShiloh.

There’s a dog on the front.

Amy has been trying to tell me all along. Shiloh is the one.

I spent so long trying to ignore what I was feeling, thinking it wasn’t right, that I was disrespecting Amy. I wasn’t.

There were signs all along.

“Isn’t that the name of Earl Abbott’s granddaughter?” Rob asks. “The one you’re friends with?”

“Yes,” I answer before they can.

“When we met her, she said you two have become close.”

“We had,” I say, rubbing my hands together. I look up and I say, “I’m in love with her.”

Bracing for their reactions, my eyes flick from Marla to Rob and back again. I want to say so much more, but the fact I’m in love with Shiloh is the full truth.

It doesn’t cancel the love I had for Amy.

I feel her presence more than ever.

Marla covers her chest with her hand. “That’s lovely, my dear.”

Rob stands by his wife, wrapping his arm around her. “She seems like a wonderful person.”

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t love Amy. I did. Very much.”

“We know that, dear,” Marla says, leaning forward to pat my knee. “You loved our daughter so well, and Shiloh is a lucky woman that she gets your love. We would love to get to know her.”

There are so many things I need to do to earn her trust again. To convince her that I have healed, that I’m ready to move forward in life. With her.

Like my list with Dr. Vernon, my list for Shiloh is long.