Page 60 of Now That It's You
“How do you mean?
“I dated the same guy for two years in high school, then another guy for almost three years in college. There was one more relationship that lasted about a year, and then I met your brother.”
She let those last words hang there in the air between them for a moment, and she watched his face for a reaction. His gaze held hers, sure and steady, and he didn’t seem uncomfortable. Still, Meg wondered if it was taboo to bring up Matt right now, while they lay tangled naked together in sweat-damp sheets.
Kyle reached up and brushed a damp curl off her face. “What about since then?”
“Nope.” She shook her head, and the curl slipped back over her eye. “I haven’t dated anyone since—since?—”
“The split,” Kyle supplied, saving her the trouble of saying the wedding or your brother or something equally awkward.
“Right,” she said, smoothing her hand over his chest.
“Wow. I guess I’m surprised. Does that mean you’ve been with only four men in your whole life?”
She smiled and planted a kiss over one of his ribs. “Five,” she said. “There’s you.”
He laughed. “Right. Can’t forget me.”
“Definitely not. Not after that. Not after—” She hesitated, wondering if it would be going too far to say what she’d been about to tell him.
“What?”
Meg bit her lip. “Not after the best sex of my life.”
He stared at her in stunned silence. “You don’t have to say that, you know.”
“I know. And I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.”
Was it her imagination, or did his heartbeat quicken beneath her palm? His gaze was steady, even, watching her with an intentness that nearly made her blush.
Still, he didn’t say anything, and Meg felt an uncomfortable urge to fill the silence. “I guess that’s a lousy thing to say, isn’t it?” she said. “To imply I’m comparing. Especially given the obvious fact of who I’m comparing you to, especially today of all days just a few hours after?—”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. Saying Matt’s funeral right here, right now, seemed like the worst thing she could possibly utter. The worst thing to even think after sex. Worse than “I have syphilis” or “Why does your penis bend to the left,” neither of which was true, but her brain was starting to spiral down a dark path now as her own heart began to race.
But Kyle pulled her back from the edge. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. We’ve just been as intimate as two people can possibly be. I think it’s okay to say what we’re thinking, even if it’s not the textbook dialogue people normally have after sex.”
She gave him a small smile, relieved he didn’t seem upset. “I didn’t mean to disparage him,” she said, cautious not to say Matt’s name. “Things were fine a lot of the time. It was rocky there at the end, but I know a lot of that was my fault.”
“How do you mean?”
She hesitated, wondering if he really wanted to know. His interest seemed genuine, but still. She was so out of practice with dating and intimacy, and she didn’t have a clue what was okay to say here.
She chose her words carefully. “I was pretty upset when the cookbook didn’t take off the way I’d hoped it might,” she said slowly. “Between that and all the stress of planning a wedding, I guess I just—I didn’t feel like it. Sex, I mean.” She closed her eyes, feeling the words start to flow now that she’d tugged out the cork. “I always wondered if that’s why he did it. Annabelle, I mean. It’s not like our love life completely dried up those last few months, but I know it only happened a handful of times and I’m sure even then he knew I wasn’t really in the mood and?—”
She stopped herself again, pretty sure she’d gone too far. But Kyle slid a hand down her body and pulled her closer. “Hey,” he murmured. “Open your eyes.”
Meg obeyed, and the force of Kyle’s green-gray gaze sent her heart thudding again.
“It wasn’t your fault, Meg,” he said softly. “Please believe me when I say that. You could have sewn your legs together and had your breasts surgically removed and it still wouldn’t have given him the right to cheat on you. Do you understand?”
She nodded, wanting to believe him, wanting even more to move on to another topic of conversation. “Okay,” she said. “I think we’ve covered my three confessions.”
He watched her for a few more heartbeats, then lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back again. Then he drew his hand back and began to count fingers. “Serial monogamy, best sex of your life, and—well, I guess you get credit for that last one. Or maybe you get double credit for the best-sex-of-your-life comment.”
Meg smiled, glad to see he was back to joking. She waited, wondering if he still planned to voice his own confession. It was okay if he didn’t. She’d shared enough for the both of them, opening up in a way she really hadn’t planned on.
Still, she caught herself listening for his voice.
