Now That It's You

by Tawna Fenske

  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 seem faster 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 replaced with toasters 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.

  “My confession,” he said at last, “is that while the last hour with you has been one of the finest in my entire life, it seems wrong to have that happen on the day that’s been one of the worst in my life.”

  Meg nodded, understanding completely. “That makes sense.” She bit her lip. “Do you believe in God or cosmic forces or some other kind of puppet master out there controlling the universe?”

  “I think so.”

  “Me, too.” She stroked a hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her palm. “And I like to think that he or she or it or whatever’s out there moving the chess pieces around has a way of making sure we never get more than we can handle. That if you’re going to be handed something really lousy, you also get something pretty great to balance it out.”

  He looked at her for a moment, the intensity of his gaze nearly taking her breath away. Then he reached up and trailed his fingers over the back of her neck, stroking her softly until she lowered her head to rest on his chest again.

  “I like that,” he said softly. “I like that a lot.”

  Neither of them said anything for a long time after that. Meg felt herself drifting, not to sleep exactly. But off into another realm where there wasn’t any room for regrets or sadness or anger or any of the rest of that.

  Right now, it was just the two of them. Kyle and Meg, a pairing of names that sounded both familiar and foreign.

  Kyle and Meg, she thought to herself, testing it out. Meg and Kyle. There was something thrilling about those syllables, something so different from the “Meganmatt” she’d grown used to over the years. Something that made her heart rate slow again, her breathing drop to a peaceful rhythm that matched his.

  It’s just us for now. The only two people in the world.

  “Hello?” called a familiar voice. “Kyle, are you here?”

  And his mother.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Meg would have known the sound of her former-future-mother-in-law’s voice anywhere, even without the walls of Kyle’s studio amplifying it to a disturbing series of echoes.

  She wasn’t used to hearing the voice while naked.

  Kyle’s face went white. He fumbled on the ground for their clothes and came up with a tangled pile that included his jeans and Meg’s bra and T-shirt. He dropped the mess into her lap and stood up, while Meg tried to remember if they’d latched the sliding wooden door. She’d definitely closed it, but was it locked?

  “Hang on a sec, mom!” Kyle yelled as he yanked his jeans on. “I’ll be right there.”

  Meg struggled into her own jeans, not quite sure where her panties had ended up. Unencumbered by the need to don a bra, Kyle had already pulled his T-shirt over his head and was padding barefoot around the privacy shade. Meg clasped her bra in front and wriggled it around so she could get her arms through the straps, wondering if she should just crawl topless under the cot and hide. She heard the barn door move on its rails, but it sounded like he’d only opened it a few inches, just enough to peer outside. Meg flipped her T-shirt right-side out.

  “Mom,” she heard Kyle saying on the other side of the studio, his voice tinged with concern. “Are you all right?”

  “I just needed to talk to you, sweetie.”

  “I’m kind of in the middle of something,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  Meg yanked her T-shirt over her head and tried not to think of what Kyle had been in the middle of moments before. God, had they really done that?

  Damn straight, her body telegraphed with glee as every nerve ending in her did a little shiver of pleasure.

  “It’ll only take a second, sweetie.”

  “Mom, wait—”

  The sound of the barn door rolling all the way open bounced through the studio, and Meg pictured Sylvia shoving her way past Kyle. He was a good foot taller than his mother, but Sylvia had speed and a mother’s instincts on her side.

  “For heaven’s sake, I drove all the way here, Kyle. The least you can do is give me five minutes.”

  “Of course. It’s just that if y
ou’d called, maybe I—”

  “You weren’t answering your phone.”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat, and Meg pictured him running fingers through his hair. “Like I said, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  “This won’t take long.”

  Meg heard the shuffling of footsteps and stood up, looking for a place to hide. She spotted a bathroom right behind her, and thought about ducking into it. She should give them some privacy, not to mention putting an extra barrier between herself and her former-future-mother-in-law.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Meg.”

  Or she could stay put. Meg bit her lip. Then she sat down on the cot.

  “This can’t wait?” Kyle asked.

  “You seemed upset this afternoon when I brought up the subject of your brother’s book. I hope you know—”

  “It’s not just Matt’s book. His name’s not even on the cover.”

  “That’s another thing,” Sylvia said. “Why didn’t she give him proper credit?”

  Meg balled her fists up and ordered herself to breathe. They weren’t there, she reminded herself. They don’t know how it happened.

  But Meg did. She remembered every detail, every word out of Matt’s mouth the night she’d brought up photo credits.

  “I’m an established photographer with a respected brand,” he’d told her. “I’ve had my work on the cover of Sports Illustrated, for crying out loud. I don’t want my name on some little self-published cookbook.”

  She remembered cringing at his words, but trying to hold it together and be a professional about it. He was a commercial artist, after all. He knew that side of things better than she did. “So how do you want me to credit you?” she’d asked. “Should I have Daphne put your byline under each photo, or—”

  “Just leave me out of it, babe. It’s not like it’s my best work or anything. I didn’t even use my new Nikon for those shots.”

  She hadn’t rated his best lens or his name on the cover of her book. It had stung at the time, but not as much as the next words out of Kyle’s mouth.

  “You’re right,” he said to his mother. “I’m sure Matt would have wanted his name on the cover of a bestselling book.”

  Meg swallowed hard and balled her fists in the blanket on the cot.

  “Of course he would,” Sylvia said. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

  “But you’re forgetting it didn’t start out as a bestselling book.”

  “That’s not the point here, Kyle. That woman robbed him of—”

  “That woman,” Kyle interrupted, “may have a good explanation for why Matt’s name isn’t on the cover. Have you asked her about it?”

  “I don’t need to. I know my son. He would have wanted credit. Come on, Kyle, you know your brother was a stickler for that sort of thing.”

  “Artists make strategic choices all the time when it comes to artistic credit.”

  Meg dug her bare toes into the floor and wondered if Kyle would be defending her to his mother if she weren’t sitting thirty feet away. He had to know she was listening, right?

  Across the room, Sylvia huffed. “You’re not suggesting Matt doesn’t deserve credit?”

  “Of course not,” Kyle said. “But I have a friend who does computer animated design. Really artsy stuff, it’s big in Japan. But she picks up side jobs for magazines, and she uses a pseudonym so no one gets it mixed up with her real work. Or what about ghostwriters? Plenty of writers pick up side work and never have their name on anything.”

  “Hmph,” Sylvia said, her heels tapping across the floor. “Well, I suppose the photo credit doesn’t matter as much as making sure Matt’s estate is fairly compensated.”

  “Agreed.”

  Those two syllables sent a tiny dagger into Meg’s heart, but it wasn’t like he was saying anything she hadn’t already heard him say. She certainly didn’t expect a roll in the hay would change his point of view.

  “Mom, I know you’re hurting right now,” he said, and the sympathy in his voice made Meg’s chest squeeze. “Maybe the best thing to do would be to wait a little bit. Give things a chance to settle down a bit before moving ahead with this lawsuit.”

  “I just miss him so much.”

  “I know you do. 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.” There was a dark note in his voice, something low and hollow 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 were getting 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 the toilet handle down.

  Then she turned and pasted on her friendliest smile.

  Kyle felt his heart stop when he rounded the corner to see Meg standing in the doorway of the restroom. He could hear the toilet tank refilling behind her, and he watched her tug down the hem of her T-shirt 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 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 he
r into the room.

  “Careful,” Kyle called after her. “The door sticks a little.”

  He gave it a good shove, nearly knocking his mother backward as she pulled it toward her. The instant he heard the lock click, he grabbed Meg by the arm and yanked her away from the door. He glanced back at the restroom, wondering if his mother was holding a glass up to the wall.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered in Meg’s ear. “I had no idea she’d drop by.”

  “It could have been worse,” she whispered back. “If she’d shown up thirty minutes earlier—”

  “God, I’m going to have nightmares about that until I’m sixty.”

  “I’m already wondering whether she’d have let you finish before she clubbed me in the head with your claw hammer.”

  “Relax, I keep the claw hammer at home. She’d have used my sledgehammer.”

  The toilet flushed and Meg jumped away from him like he’d caught on fire. That’s when he noticed the pink thong sticking out of the leg of her pants. He bent down to grab it right as his mother pushed the bathroom door open and came clicking out.

  Kyle bolted upright and balled the panties in one hand, but there was no hiding them. His mother’s gaze dropped to his fist and she frowned. Kyle swallowed hard, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring.

  “It seems to be in good condition,” he said, stroking the satiny pink fabric over the edge of the metal. “I’ll just get it polished up and then I can start working with it.”

  His mom stared for a moment, then made another hmph sound and turned away. “I have to get back to your father,” she said.

  “Tell him I said hello,” Kyle called, hoping his mother hadn’t noticed Meg’s face turning the approximate shade of a cherry tomato. He shoved the panties in his back pocket and followed his mom to the front of the shop, wanting to make damn sure the door locked behind her. “Are we still on for lunch Monday?”

  “Cristos at one.” She turned and gave him a perfunctory hug, pulling back before he could even get his arms around her. She pinched his cheek. “Don’t be late.”

  “Take care of yourself,” Kyle said as she pulled the barn door closed behind her. He flipped the lock and waited until he heard her car door slam before he turned back to Meg.