Page 48 of Marry Me

“That’s the thing. I can’t seem to imagine that alternative happening.”

“Come here,” Megan said automatically, giving Allison’s hand a tug. She did. And as they stood together, sharing each other’s space, Megan placed a hand on Allison’s cheek, cradling her face. “I had the best time tonight, and that keeps happening.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m floating when we’re together. Even just sitting and talking on the couch.”

She smiled and met Allison’s gaze. “Let’s do it again soon. I need a little more floating of my own.”

“You’re on.”

“Walk me out?”

“I’m nothing if not hospitable.”

Megan laughed as flashes of their kitchen antics hit. “Um, you can say that again. I’m definitely leaving satisfied. What was it you said at my place? Five stars. Definitely recommend a visit.”

That earned a bark of laughter. They walked hand in hand to the front door and stepped out onto the quaint covered front porch.

“A rocking chair would look really nice right there.”

Allison followed her gaze to the empty spot in front of the window. “You know, I’ve thought that before, too.”

“Reading books. Sipping your coffee. Growing old peacefully.”

Allison looked pensive. “Might need two.”

“Good point.” The night was young, and she was reluctant to leave but knew baby steps was the smart way to go. “’Night, Ally.”

“I like it when you call me that.”

“Does no one else?”

“They do. It’s just different when you say it.” She slid her arms around Megan’s neck, a position that just seemed to work for them. “Thank you for tonight.”

Megan leaned in and stopped just shy of those gorgeous lips. She felt the electricity right away. “I had the best time.” Allison closed the distance, catching her mouth in a kiss that made her forget her whereabouts entirely. “’Night,” she murmured against Ally’s mouth. She turned to the three steps that led from the porch to the sidewalk and paused, staring straight into the eyes of Allison’s older sister, Betsy.

“Oh, hello,” Betsy said blandly.

“Hi, Betsy,” Megan said. She looked back at Allison, who hadn’t moved. In fact, she’d gone entirely still and looked downright haunted. Megan’s heart clenched. This surely wasn’t how she wanted to talk to Betsy about all she was learning about herself, and yet here they were. Exposed. She wasn’t sure what the best move was. Leave the sisters on their own to speak, or stay by Allison’s side in case she needed support. She was certainly willing to do that, but she needed a sign.

“I think I understand things a lot better now,” Betsy said, folding her arms. It wasn’t the most supportive of physical gestures. She looked from Allison to Megan and back to Allison again. “You’re having an affair with your wedding planner.” Apparently, Megan was going to be here for this.

“First of all, she has a name. Second of all, I’m not having an affair at all. I’m not engaged, Betsy.”

“In this moment. You know very well it’s temporary, and what you’re doing now is going to destroy everything. You think the Carmichael family is going to stand around while stories of Brent’s fiancée running off with another woman trickle down the society columns? You need a wake-up call because that’s not how these things go.”

“In Allison’s defense, I don’t think either of us could have predicted what’s happened. But sexuality aside, I think—”

“And for the record, this has nothing to do with whether you’re a man or a woman, Ms. Kinkaid. I donate and attend all the marches.”

“Admirable,” Megan said evenly.

Betsy turned back to Allison. “This is about the way people talk and the details that will only titillate the masses, as they laugh at poor Brent.” She whirled on Allison. “Is that what you want for him? If not, don’t do this. Put what you want aside, and think about him.”

Allison, to her credit, held strong. “Brent knows Megan is a woman. He told me to take this time to explore my feelings. That’s what I’m doing.”

That seemed to shut Betsy up for a moment.

She straightened, the expression on her face dialed to righteous. Oh, Megan didn’t like this woman. How were she and Allison raised by the same parents? “I’m sure that was him giving from his heart, thinking of you. Maybe you could do the same for him, and in the meantime wake the hell up and seize what’s right in front of you.” She gave Megan a once-over. “Don’t throw your life away for a dalliance. We all have…proclivities. It’s how you handle them that counts.” She shook her head, in what seemed to be disbelief. Her focus was clear, however. Saving face, and that meant protecting Brent Carmichael. “But I’ll leave you two to it.” She turned to go and then remembered something, holding up the canvas bag in her hand. “Dad made his famous chicken noodle soup. I said I’d drop some.” She placed the bag on the sidewalk, apparently not willing to get any closer to Allison or the porch. “He’s always so thoughtful of others. Maybe you could take a page.”

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