Page 63 of Now That It's You
“I know you do.” Kyle’s voice had gone soothing and soft. “So do I.”
Meg pictured him putting his arm around her, maybe tucking her head against his shoulder the way he and Matt used to do when she cried over sad movies or squabbles with their father.
“I feel like this is what Matt would want me to do,” she said. “I feel like I owe him something.”
“I know,” Kyle said softly. “So do I.” Something dark filled his voice, a hollow sound that made Meg shiver.
“It’s our job now to protect your brother’s legacy.”
Sylvia’s heels tapped across the floor, louder this time, and Meg sat up straight on the cot.
“Mom, where are you going?”
“I need to use the restroom.”
Oh, hell.
Meg bolted up. She leapt over the cot, her bare feet hitting the concrete floor on the other side. The door gaped open, so Meg scrambled into the bathroom and yanked at the doorknob, trying to pull it closed behind her.
The damn thing wouldn’t budge.
She jerked again, frantic now. Sylvia’s footsteps drew closer and a fine sweat broke out on her arms and legs and pretty much everywhere she had pores. Desperate, she spun around and pushed down the toilet handle.
Then she turned around and pasted on her friendliest smile.
Kyle felt his heart stop when he rounded to corner to see Meg standing in the doorway of the restroom. He could hear the toilet bowl refilling behind her, and he watched her tug down the hem of her T-shirt down and smile.
She wiped her hands on her jeans and took a step forward. “You’re out of paper towels, Kyle,” she said, then cut her gaze to his mother. “Sylvia, hello. How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” Sylvia said tightly.
“What brings you down here at this hour?”
His mother stared at Meg like she’d just piddled on the floor. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Meg shrugged like it was no big deal and reached into her pocket. Kyle was busy glancing around for the damn condom wrapper—where the hell had it gone?—so he almost missed Meg’s next move. He caught a flash of something in his periphery and looked back to see her pulling the engagement ring out of her pocket. His heart stopped, but Meg held out the ring like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Kyle asked me to bring this by,” she said, holding it out to him.
He took it without a word, still too dumbfounded to participate in the conversation.
His mom stared at the ring, then looked at Kyle. “What on earth for?”
Kyle swallowed, finding his tongue at last. “A lot of people use old jewelry to create something new. It offers a sense of closure.”
Meg looked at him, startled, then nodded. “That’s right. Now seemed like the right time to do that. As a tribute to Matt.”
“And obviously, it makes sense for me to be the artist to handle the transformation,” Kyle said. “It would give me closure, too.”
“Of course.” Meg nodded. “I have a great deal of respect for Kyle’s work.”
“And this way the ring won’t just be sitting in a jewelry box or getting shuttled off to a pawn shop.” He tucked it in his pocket, wondering if his mom noticed any of the tension between them. He sure as hell did. “Something Matt had a hand in choosing will live on.”
His mother looked from him to Meg and back again, her expression not unlike the one she’d worn when she caught him his senior year with a bong he’d convinced her was a perfume bottle. Kyle wasn’t sure if she was buying the story, but she didn’t seem inclined to argue.
Looking surprisingly unruffled, Meg stepped aside and gestured toward the restroom. “I’m sorry, you needed to use the powder room?”
His mom gave Meg a deeply suspicious look, then stepped past her into the room.
