Page 36 of Now That It's You
They slipped into the ocean of bodies and Meg bobbed along murmuring words she hoped sounded comforting to family members she barely remembered meeting. When they finally reached the door, Meg stepped outside and gulped a huge lungful of air, grateful to be free from the press of bodies and the threat of contagious tears.
The afternoon light looked eerie and thick, filtered through clouds that couldn’t decide whether to be yellow or gray. It had been drizzling when they first arrived, but the rain had stopped and now puddles lurked everywhere like muddy landmines. She started across the street, tiptoeing around one puddle, then the next. She dodged sideways and felt herself starting to topple, but Kendall grabbed her.
“Damn high heels,” Meg muttered.
“Hon, you’d trip barefoot on a gymnasium floor.”
“Been there, done that.”
“Seventh grade gymnastics?”
“And the sock hop dance our freshman year. And that basketball game in college when we all rushed the floor and I lost my flip-flops under the bleachers.”
“You’re hopeless,” Kendall said as she pushed open the door to the reception hall. “Please, dear God, let there be readily available alcohol.”
“It’s a bar. I’m guessing there’s alcohol.”
“Right, but I need to be able to obtain some in under five minutes.”
They both surveyed the room, Kendall looking for the bar and Meg looking for—not Kyle. She ordered herself not to think of him as she let her gaze travel from face to face, giving nods of acknowledgment to people she wasn’t certain she’d met before.
“Bingo,” Kendall said, and Meg turned to see her pointing toward a bar in the far corner.
“I don’t need anything,” Meg said, but Kendall was already trotting off in that direction, probably with vodka cranberry on the brain. Just as well. Meg needed something to do with her hands, and holding a glass seemed marginally better than shredding snotty tissues.
She smoothed her palms down the gray and black pinstriped dress she’d chosen that morning after staring into her closet for an hour wondering what the hell Matt would have liked her to wear to his funeral.
Then she’d felt idiotic for dressing to impress a guy she hadn’t seen for two years, whom she’d never see again ever, and the thought had made her want to say “to hell with it all” and dress in the orange tie-dyed sundress he’d always hated. Luckily, Kendall had talked her down. And accompanied her to the event. And driven her here like she was some kind of helpless, elderly aunt.
“Pardon me,” murmured a man who brushed past en route to the bar, and Meg realized she was standing in the way. She turned left and headed into another room, one that seemed blessedly less packed with people. As she approached a card table lined with framed photos of Matt, she realized she recognized most of the shots.
Matt on the edge of the Grand Canyon, a photo Meg had taken five years ago on a two-week road trip. They’d munched Doritos and laughed themselves silly at the goofy names of brothels lining remote stretches of Nevada highway.
Matt on a mountain bike in a grove of trees. She hadn’t taken that photo, but the shirt he wore was one she’d bought him for his thirtieth birthday.
Matt and Kyle with their arms looped around each other’s shoulders, looking a little drunk at a family barbecue four years ago.
Meg picked up the frame and stared down at the faces. Her heart twisted a little as she saw how happy they looked, so vivacious and healthy. Those matching gray-green eyes, Matt’s square, chiseled jaw and Kyle’s stubbled one. She thought about the soft scratch-scritch sound as he’d rubbed his hand over it the other night, his face close to hers, his lips right there as she shifted on his lap and?—
“What a great-looking man.”
Meg whirled to see the brunette who’d been walking next to Sylvia at the church. She had curly hair and bright green eyes that made Meg think of a lime Popsicle.
“Y—yes,” Meg stammered, setting the picture frame back on the table. “Very handsome.”
“I just can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Gone?” She’s talking about Matt, not Kyle. “Right.” Meg swallowed, wondering who sucked all the air from the room. “Much too soon. And so unexpected.”
“I’m Chloe,” the woman said, shifting an etched water goblet from one hand to the other. Something about the glass looked familiar, but Meg forced herself to pay attention to Chloe’s words. “I’m Matt’s fiancée.”
Meg blinked, pretty sure she hadn’t heard right. “Matt’s fiancée?”
“We were planning our wedding for June. Now?” She shrugged and looked sadly at the photo, and Meg wished she knew what to say.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get my deposit back from Ponderosa Resort,” Chloe said. “That’s where the wedding was going to be held.”
Meg nodded, really unsure what to say this time. She settled for offering her hand. “I’m M?—”
