Page 107 of Now That It's You
“The golfing was Matt’s idea, of course,” he continued. “I always hated it, but I thought we should spend some time together. Anyway, it was an awkward day of having him goad me about my swing and my score and—well, it doesn’t matter.”
“It must matter,” she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Either to him at that moment or to you right now. That’s why you’re telling me this, right?”
“Right.”
She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and looked up at the top of the doorframe. “It was always a competition with Matt. He wanted to have the better golf game, the better career, the nicer car, the higher number of notches on his bedpost.”
Meg felt herself flinch, not sure what any of this had to do with her. But she waited, and Kyle continued the story.
“After we got done golfing, we went to this bar. Matt’s phone kept buzzing, like he was getting text messages. At first, I thought it might be you.”
“It wasn’t,” she said softly. “I went out of my way to leave him alone that weekend. To give you some guy time.”
“I know. I asked him who it was, and he wouldn’t tell me at first.”
“Annabelle.” Hearing the name again—even in her own voice—sent a dull, icy spear through her heart.
Kyle almost looked relieved that she’d been the one to say it first. “Yes. Annabelle. I thought at first he was just trying to schedule an appointment. He gave me some bullshit about acupuncture helping his golf swing.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’m sure it loosened him right up.”
“Yeah.” His throat rolled as he swallowed. “I don’t know when things turned flirtatious, but after we’d been sitting there maybe thirty minutes or so, I could see from the look on his face that something had shifted.”
“He was drinking.”
“Yes. A couple beers, but he wasn’t wasted. He was still in control of his actions.”
She nodded, letting the words wash over her. So far, none of this information was new. The details were a little different than the polished version Matt had delivered two years ago, but there was nothing earth-shattering in Kyle’s version. Nothing to tell Meg she’d had it wrong all this time.
Still, hearing the story from Kyle’s point of view was like poking Q-tips into wounds that hadn’t quite healed.
“Do you remember I texted you that evening?” he asked.
Meg frowned, trying to recall the details. “No. I’m sorry, I don’t. What did you say?”
“I sent some silly photo of us drinking beer on the golf course. Nothing memorable, but I asked how you spent your day.”
She nodded, a twinge of memory flickering in her brain. “I think I remember that. I texted back that my mom caught my dad cheating again.”
“That’s right,” Kyle said. “Nothing new, right? But you sounded upset.”
“I was.” Meg clenched her fists in her lap. “That time was bad. Mom caught him in the act, heard him saying all kinds of sexy things to the other woman that he’d never said to her.” She stopped herself, aware that she was rattling off details that probably didn’t matter at the moment.
“Right.” Kyle took a shaky breath. “It got me thinking.”
There was a dark note in his voice that made Meg slide her hands between her knees and press them tight together. “About what?”
“You sounded bitter. And resigned. And so very, very angry at your dad.”
“I was.” I still am.
“And I thought about your childhood and your history with your dad’s infidelity and I thought—” He stopped, taking a shaky breath. “I thought about what you’d do if Matt cheated on you.”
Meg stared at him, trying to process the words. “And what conclusion did you reach?”
“I knew you’d leave him.”
She nodded, not sure where he was going with this, but not liking the dull twinge in the pit of her stomach. Kyle took another breath, and she wondered if she should offer him something to drink. A glass of water or a beer?
