Page 74 of Now That It's You
“It’s less awkward. Or it will be in a few minutes. I hope.”
Meg set the cookie cutter aside and bent to pull a knife off the magnetic strip under the counter. Kyle made a valiant effort not to look down her shirt. Or at her ass. Or at her?—
“We slept together,” Meg confirmed, straightening up. “Or I guess if we’re going for the blunt approach, we had sex.”
“That we did.”
She sighed and set the knife on the counter. “Kyle, I don’t know what got into me that night.”
“Well, for starters, I did,” Kyle said. “I was in you for at least ten or fifteen minutes.”
Meg’s cheeks went from pink to bright red, and she picked the knife up again. “That’s true.”
“And I don’t regret it.”
He let the words hang between them a moment, watching her face for a reaction. She seemed to be considering his words, or maybe her own. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
“I don’t regret it, either,” she murmured.
“You don’t?”
She shook her head and unwrapped the cookie dough. She sliced off a big hunk, then pulled off a small bit and began rolling it into a ball. “But then I feel bad for not regretting it, because I totally should regret it, and?—”
“Who says you should?”
“What?”
“Did you consult a rule book that told you how you’re supposed to feel after sleeping with someone for the first time?”
“You’re not just someone, Kyle. You’re one of my oldest friends, and you’re also my fiancé’s brother.”
“Ex-fiancé,” he reminded her.
“My late ex-fiancé.” Meg shook her head and smashed the ball of cookie dough with the heel of her hand. “Christ, we did it on the day of his funeral. It just seems so—so?—”
“Jerry Springer?”
“I was going to say disrespectful, but it’s that, too.”
Kyle nodded and stepped into the space beside her. He picked up one of the small zucchinis and turned it over in his hand. Was it just him, or did everything in this kitchen look phallic?
That was probably the point. He put it on the cutting board and picked up a paring knife. “How do you want this cut for the penis pasta salad?”
She turned and looked at him. “Cut it in half lengthwise, then half again so you’ve got quarters. One-inch slices would be perfect.”
“Coming right up.”
Kyle fell silent as he began to chop, appreciating the steady comfort of working side by side with her in the kitchen. He’d spent the whole week wondering if sleeping with Meg would dissolve this easy rhythm they’d always found between them. It felt nice to realize it hadn’t.
The conversation might be awkward, but being with her never was.
“So do you want to just write the whole sex thing off as another one of the weird parts of the grieving process?” he asked. “Like going grocery shopping barefoot or combing the cat with your toothbrush?”
He glanced over in time to catch the faintest hint of a smile on her face. “I’d say it’s a step beyond those things,” she murmured.
“Probably. Still, grief makes people do crazy things. We’ve already established that.”
He was giving her an out, he knew. An excuse and a chance to explain away a one-time dalliance they should probably both agree shouldn’t happen again. Part of him wanted her to take it.
