Page 116 of Now That It's You
“We have a caprese salad with fresh heritage tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, and basil from our own garden. For entrees, there’s an apple-brined pork chop with apricot compote and tahini roasted cauliflower on the side. You’ll also want to make sure you save room for dessert. There’s a key lime tart I think you’ll really enjoy.”
Meg nodded, wondering if it was a coincidence two of the three specials were variations of Matt’s favorite dishes. Probably not. Somewhere back there in the kitchen, even Brittney Fox couldn’t escape the relics of past love.
“I’d like the halibut,” Meg said.
“The chef’s salad for me,” Patti said, handing over her menu.
“I’ll try a small Caesar salad and the pork special,” Kendall said, looking at Meg. “We’ll see how it compares to that one you always used to make.”
Meg took a sip of her water as the waitress walked away. “So really, Mom, you’re doing okay?”
“I’m fine, Meggy, but I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about this thing with Kyle.”
Meg rolled her eyes, feeling like a petulant tween. “There’s nothing to talk about. Weren’t you the one who stood there in his studio not two weeks ago and said there’s a point where you have to put your foot down? Where forgiveness might be possible, but forgetting never could be?”
“I did say that,” Patti said. “And there’s no way you should forget. Neither of you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’ve both learned so much from your past mistakes. You’re works in progress, and it would be a shame to have you both come this far, only to throw in the towel and waste all those lessons learned on someone who’s not really your soulmate.”
“Soulmate,” Meg muttered, picking at the bread basket. “I’m not sure I believe in the idea of soulmates.”
“Believe or don’t believe,” Kendall said, tearing off a thick hunk of sourdough and casting a look at Patti. “It doesn’t really matter. We both watched you for ten years with Matt and for one month with Kyle, and there’s no question which man made you happier.”
“That’s different,” Meg said, not sure whether to feel intensely loved or intensely picked on. “Infatuation doesn’t last. And I didn’t know the whole story when I got involved with Kyle.”
Her mother’s eyes clouded with sympathy. “Honey, you knew the things that mattered. You knew he loves his family. You knew he’ll help you out in a pinch. You knew he’s a man with flaws who’s willing to own those flaws and learn from them.”
“But above all,” Kendall said, “you knew he loves you like no one else ever has.”
Meg shook her head and took a big pull of ice water. “Can we please talk about something else? Please?”
Kendall gave her a pitying look, then turned to Patti. “So you’re moving ahead with the divorce?”
“That’s the plan.” Patti looked at Meg. “Your father said you two had dinner last night?”
Meg nodded, wondering if she should feel worse about the breakup of her parents’ marriage. She knew she ought to feel a certain level of sadness or nostalgia, but mostly she felt relief.
“I’ll always love you, Daddy,” she’d told him last night after dinner as she handed him a Tupperware container with two slices of her homemade blueberry pie. “But liking you hasn’t always been easy.”
Her father had regarded her with tired, kind eyes. “I know that, sweetheart. Liking myself is no picnic, either. Especially right now. Will you tell your mom—” He’d stopped, then shook his head. “Never mind. I owe her more than sentiments relayed through a third party.”
“You do. But you can tell me anyway.”
“Tell her she deserves better. And I hope she finds it.”
Now, Meg reached across the table and squeezed her mother’s hand. “You deserve the best, Mom.”
Patti smiled and squeezed back. “So do you, baby. So do you.”
Kyle kicked a dirty sock under his couch and wondered if he should have done a better job tidying up before inviting a big-shot Hollywood producer to his home.
From across the room, Bindi scurried over and flopped on her belly beside the sofa. With a grunt, she stuck her nose underneath and pulled out the sock. She got to her feet and trotted over, depositing the sock in front of Kyle with an intense look of pride.
He grimaced and turned his attention back to Chase Whitfield. The man hadn’t noticed a damn thing, and probably couldn’t care less about an over-attentive canine or the cleanliness of Kyle’s home.
Chase reached out and stroked a hand over the metal sculpture, his expression more reverent than any Kyle had seen from someone admiring his work. It should have made him proud.
