Page 121 of Now That It's You
“You’re still miked, honey,” Kate said. “We heard every word. We even got the heavy breathing.”
“That might come in handy sometime,” the sound man called, grinning at Meg from the edge of the stage.
She grimaced and turned back to Kyle, who squeezed her hands in response. “I’m okay with broadcasting it to the world,” he said. “I love you with all my heart, Meg. Here’s to fresh starts and second chances.”
“Cheers to that,” Kate said, grinning from the side. “Go for it, Meg. We’ll start the audition over if you like. Just show us more of that passion.”
“Okay,” Meg breathed, but she wasn’t looking at the producer. She was looking at Kyle, whose gray-green eyes held a question she didn’t need him to ask.
Or maybe she did.
“What do you say, Meg?” he asked. “Can you see yourself giving us a shot? Taking a stab at a real relationship?”
Meg nodded and looped her arms around his neck. “I can.”
Epilogue
One year later
Kyle kicked his toe through the big pile of leaves, breathing in the scent of wood smoke and pumpkin pie spice clinging to the sleeves of his wool coat. Or maybe it was in Meg’s hair. The cinnamon had kinda gotten everywhere.
Thanksgiving-morning kitchen counter sex was definitely worth scratching off the bucket list.
Meg’s mitten-sheathed fingers felt warm in his, and he squeezed her hand tight, then let their linked hands fall between them, swinging as they walked. He looked at his mother, who was smiling, albeit a little stiffly.
But it was still a smile. When had she started to do that again? It must’ve happened gradually, like a slow thaw. Kyle could still see sadness there, too—it would probably always be there—but warmth seeped into her eyes more often now.
His mom caught him staring and reached out to touch the side of his face. “You have whipped cream on your cheek.”
“Thanks,” he said as she brushed it off.
His mom dropped her hand and glanced at Meg. Perhaps sensing the gaze, Meg looked back and gave her a shy smile. “How are you doing, Sylvia?”
“Fine.” She seemed to realize her reply sounded terse, and she offered a sheepish half shrug. “Thank you, dear. I’m glad you could be with us.”
Meg’s shaky smile steadied. “I’m glad to be included. I always loved being part of this family.”
“It’s nice to have you.” Kyle’s mother paused. “How’s the show doing?”
“Very well, thank you.” Meg glanced at Kyle and the two of them shared a private smile.
Very well was the understatement of the year.
Muffins with Meg had already been renewed for a second season, with celebrity guests lined up in droves. Next week, Meg would film episode on wine pairings with Reese Clark from Sunridge Vineyards. The following week, she was scheduled to host Dr. Vivienne Brandt to discuss the mental health benefits of comfort food. The week after that they’d be taking the show to an outside location, visiting a Portland bed and breakfast populated by cats descended from Ernest Hemingway’s beloved feline brood.
Meg had spent hours this past week perfecting her recipe for kitty treats. Their house smelled like herring, but Meg was happy. And if Meg was happy, so was Kyle.
Squeezing her hand, he caught her attention. “Proud of you,” he murmured.
Meg blushed to the tips of her hair. “Thank you.”
Kyle thought he’d spoken quietly, but he must have misjudged. His mother cleared her throat and stepped closer as they crunched through fall leaves. “We’re proud of you, too, Meg.” His mom touched her arm. “I always believed in you.”
He watched as tears filled her eyes and Meg blinked them back stoically. “That means so much to me. Thanks, Sylvia.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, dear.”
“You, too.”
