Page 77 of Now That It's You
She nodded. “I’m not saying I wish I had. I’m glad I didn’t, I swear.”
“I believe you.”
“It’s just that sometimes I’ve wondered how things would have unfolded if I’d just forgiven him and walked down the aisle like I was supposed to.”
Kyle shook his head. “No. No way.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“Or to make it less weird in light of the fact that we slept together?” She grimaced, but Kyle kept talking. “Sorry, but no. It would have been better if you’d called it off the night before instead of having that big spectacle at the church, but I understand why you didn’t go through with it. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t.”
She nodded. “So am I.”
The tension in the air felt so heavy that Kyle could have taken his paring knife and sliced right through it. He wanted to move on to safer territory, to a conversation that wouldn’t leave him feeling hollowed out and empty or like the world’s biggest asshole.
God, was there anything left at this point?
“Come on,” he said, turning back to his zucchini. “Let’s get chopping and you can tell me some of your funniest catering stories. You’ve surely racked up some new ones in the last two years?”
She smiled, and her relief was almost palpable. He’d just thrown her a lifeline, and she grabbed for it with both hands. “Being the only sober person at the party does have its advantages,” she said, turning back to her cookie dough. “Did I tell you the one about the father-of-the-bride who did a striptease to the theme from Top Gun?”
Kyle shook his head and she launched into the story, moving them into more comfortable territory. The scent of cinnamon and sugar hovered around them, forming a warm, soothing blanket of kitchen steam. Meg’s phone played an old Doobie Brothers song through the speakers above the cabinet, and something bubbled in a copper pot on the stovetop.
Meg laughed at part of her story, and Kyle ordered himself to focus on her, on the soft lilt of her voice and the amusing details of her story.
But there was no ignoring the pressure in his chest, or the niggling in the back of his brain. He knew that feeling well.
He was falling in love with his brother’s girl.
Again, or maybe he’d never stopped.
A shitty thing to do, his subconscious chided, since you’re the one who ruined their lives.
Chapter 13
It was nearly ten o’clock by the time Meg led Kyle through the front door of her house, flipping on lights as she moved through the foyer. It occurred to her that she probably shouldn’t be doing this. After almost a week of avoiding him so they wouldn’t accidentally tumble into bed again and muck things up, here she was inviting him back to her house well after dark.
But hell, he’d been a huge help to her. She couldn’t have done all that food prep without him. The least she could do was offer him a piece of cake.
“Watch your step,” she called, making a wide arc around the cactus that separated the entry from the living room. “If I’m gone more than a couple hours, Floyd likes to punish me by hiding behind the pot and attacking my ankles when I come through the door.”
Sure enough, a fuzzy orange rocket came flying toward her, and Meg dodged to the side to avoid the flurry of teeth and claws.
Kyle wasn’t as lucky.
“Woah,” he said, jumping back as Floyd slashed at him with one paw. “You weren’t kidding.”
Meg tried to muffle a laugh as Kyle continued his kitty dodge dance. “Sorry, did he get you?”
“He missed.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll settle down in a second. Make yourself at home while I grab the cake.”
She gestured to the barstools and Kyle took a seat. Meg saw him cast a wary eye at Floyd, who was twining his lanky body around the leg of the barstool.
“Hey, buddy,” Kyle said, reaching down to scratch the cat behind the ear.
Floyd hissed and took a swipe at him. Kyle drew his hand back and looked at the cat for a moment.
