Page 6 of Now That It's You
“Thanks.” Kyle looked down to see he was wearing the same plain white T-shirt he’d dug out of the hamper the day before. He looked back up to see the blonde jogging in place a few feet away.
“Let me amend that,” she said, brushing a perfect sheen of sweat from between her breasts. “I love the way you fill out that shirt.”
“Uh, thanks?”
The blonde laughed. “My name’s Stacey, and if you’d like to go out sometime?—”
“Actually, Stacey, now’s not a great time.”
“I didn’t mean now, silly. Obviously I’d want to shower first.” She shot him a suggestive look, probably waiting for him to say something flirtatious about the shower.
But Kyle just stood there, biting back the urge to tell her he wasn’t in the mood for a soapy grope-fest with a stranger the day after his brother died. Of course, his brother would have been the first person to hit on a woman no matter who died. Maybe this was a sign from Matt.
“Maybe later,” Kyle said, shuffling past her and making a beeline for the north end of the park. There was a bench he remembered on a ledge overlooking the river and a path fringed with evergreens. Matt always liked sitting there, claiming it had the best view of the joggers. The female joggers. Kyle wasn’t in the mood for ogling, but he did feel like finding a connection to his brother.
What he didn’t expect to find was Meg.
He spotted her instantly, her rust-colored ringlets blowing behind her as she sat silhouetted against the river, shoulders hunched in a chocolate-colored poncho he knew would match her eyes. He stood there for a few beats, staring at the back of her head, wondering what drew her here to this same bench he’d been aiming for.
The river twinkled like broken glass in the faint haze of sunlight seeping through the clouds. A pair of swans chugged past near the riverbank and Kyle remembered the doves again.
Meg turned like she knew he’d been watching her. He was right, the poncho did match her eyes, and though they were a little puffy, he was relieved to see they looked dry. She blinked at him, then offered a small, feeble wave. He found himself striding toward her before he’d made up his mind to do that.
“How did you know?” she asked, her voice soft as the underside of a maple leaf.
“Know what?”
“That this was our spot.” She shoved her hands between her knees and gave him a wilted little smile. “Matt and I used to come here all the time. He said he found the ducks soothing.”
Kyle nodded, not willing to taint her memory of Matt. “Matt always liked this place.”
He stood there with his hands dangling at his sides, not sure what to say. She made it easier for him by sliding to one end of the bench and tipping her head toward the empty space. “There’s plenty of room,” she said. “If you wanted to sit here, too.”
Kyle hesitated, then took a few steps forward until he found himself settling onto the cool wood beside her. Something smelled like lilacs, but it was October in Portland and lilacs were long gone, so it must be Meg’s hair. She’d always smelled sweet and flowery, like a mix of lilacs and honeysuckle or peonies or some other flower he couldn’t name. Matt used to complain that everything he owned ended up smelling like he’d spent the day in a greenhouse, though Kyle never saw the problem with that.
“What’s with the marshmallows?” she asked.
He’d forgotten he was holding them. “They’re for the ducks.”
“I didn’t realize ducks had a sweet tooth.” She frowned. “Or would it be a sweet beak?”
“That sounds like the name of an eighties band. ‘Coming up next, we have “Quack in Black” by Sweet Beak.’”
She laughed, her smile reaching all the way to her eyes. Then she froze like she’d been caught cursing in church. Her face folded back into a neutral frown, and Kyle considered telling her it was okay to smile.
But hell, he wasn’t exactly the authority on grief. Maybe he had it all wrong.
“So how are you doing?” she asked.
“Okay, under the circumstances.”
She shivered, even though it wasn’t particularly cold out, and pulled the hood of the poncho up over her head. It should have looked ridiculous, like a Jedi costume, but on Meg the hood made a frame for her lovely face.
Kyle gripped the bag of marshmallows tighter. “Sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“Thanks.” She bit her lip. “Did you get to?”
“Not in so many words, but we did talk a little before the surgery.”
