Page 17 of Now That It’s You (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #5)

Her tone was even, but there was something else in her voice. Something beyond casual curiosity. Kyle waited a few beats, wondering if she’d take back the question. Tell him she’d rather not know.

She didn’t though, and Kyle found himself reaching out to touch her hand. “Don’t do this, Meg.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Torture yourself. Compare the proposal you got with the one Chloe got and make it some failing on your part.”

“I want to know,” she said.

“Morbid curiosity?”

“We’re at a funeral. Can you think of a better time to be morbidly curious?”

Kyle sighed. “They got engaged on a beach in Barbados at sunset.”

“Oh,” she said. “I mean, I guess they could have had a fake engagement story, too?—”

“I saw photos,” Kyle said. “He had his camera set up on a tripod in some bushes nearby. There might have also been a skywriter?—”

“Okay, stop,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re right, I don’t need to torture myself. It’s not a damn competition, anyway.”

Kyle swallowed hard, hating the sadness in her voice. Hating the question he was about to ask her. “Did you still love him? When he died, I mean—were you still in love with Matt?”

“God, no!”

Was it wrong to love the vehemence in her words? Kyle cleared his throat. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” She shook her head in the darkness, and he watched the glint of light in her curls as they slid over her shoulders.

“I know it doesn’t seem possible that I could have stopped loving him that quickly, but the second he told me about the affair, it was like someone flipped off a light switch. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Then why do you care how he proposed to someone else?”

“Because I’m a woman,” she said. “Even if I’m glad I didn’t marry him, and relieved that I dodged that bullet, it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have wanted to be deemed worthy.”

“You’re worthy.”

She laughed and Kyle realized he sounded like a fucking inspirational poster. He could think of a million adjectives to describe Meg—funny, warm, clever, beautiful, creative—but worthy had never crossed his mind.

“What the hell does worthy even mean?” he muttered. “Like it’s someone else’s job to validate your worth?”

“It’s not, I know. But I’m female. I’m human. Deep down, don’t most of us want someone to lay claim to us? To have someone love you so much they grab on tightly and say ‘Mine!’ and never let go?”

“That sounds like a motive for a restraining order.”

Meg reached out and squeezed his hand. “I can always count on you to make me smile, Kyle.”

A dull pang of longing rattled through him. His fingers were still linked with hers, so he squeezed her hand back in lieu of any other gesture he might want to make. “He did love you, Meg. In his own way. How could he not?”

“Thanks. I don’t know if that matters now, but it’s nice to hear.”

Kyle cleared his throat. “So are things still going well with your book?” It was an abrupt subject change, but he wasn’t ready to end the conversation yet and he worried she might leave if the silence stretched out. Her hand felt warm in his, and he wondered if she’d notice he hadn’t let go.

“It’s crazy,” she said. “It’s the number one book on The New York Times Bestsellers list. Well, number one on the Advice and Miscellaneous list. But can you imagine?”

“That’s great,” he said, meaning it, even if he didn’t have much of a notion what any of that meant. “I tried to make one of the recipes the other night.”

“Really? Which one?”

“The risotto. Only I didn’t have risotto, so I tried to use Rice-A-Roni. I also didn’t have white wine, so I used beer instead, and I had to use romaine lettuce instead of basil and butter instead of sesame oil and?—

Meg laughed. “So basically, you made a totally different recipe?”

“Pretty much. It was just as well. I was home alone with Bindi, so revving my libido with an aphrodisiac dinner probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“Bindi?”

“My dog. Australian kelpie. I got her at the pound a few months after Karma died.”

“What’s an Australian kelpie?”

“Picture a normal herding dog like a border collie or a heeler.”

“High energy, you mean?”

“Now picture it on crack. That’s a kelpie.”

Meg smiled. “I’d love to meet her.”

“She’d love to meet you. She loves women. Doesn’t see enough of them, so she goes bananas when anyone with boobs and no Y chromosome comes to visit.”

“My double-X chromosomes and double- D boobs will have to drop by sometime. Maybe we’ll bring you a few groceries, while we’re at it.”

“I’d like that.” And he didn’t like how his brain perked up at the boob comment. God, he was an asshole.

He remembered her telling him once how she’d learned to make fun of her own breasts as a self-conscious teen who got tired of being teased and decided to beat her tormentors to the punch.

“During my scrawny high school years, I looked like two olives on a toothpick,” she’d said, and he and Matt had both laughed.

The quiet between them stretched out in the darkness, and Kyle cleared his throat again.

He could hear her breathing in and out, could smell the lilacs in her hair and feel the warmth of her flesh where her fingers joined with his.

She hadn’t let go yet, and he wasn’t sure if he should be the one to break the contact between them.

Had anyone noticed they were both missing?

He should probably get back out there, lose himself in sea of aunts and uncles and co-workers and?—

“Kyle?”

“Yes?”

“You know the other night when we said kissing would be a dumb idea?”

His brain started to spin, and Kyle held on to her hand, keeping himself rooted in place. “Yes.”

“It would be. But I still want to do it. Just once, to know what it’s like.”

He tried to think of what to say. Something flippant to make her laugh or something profound to make her feel.

He was still thinking about it when he felt her hand on his cheek.

He reached for her then, forgetting all his hesitation as her lips met his in the darkness.

Her mouth was as soft as he’d always imagined and she tasted like sunshine and white wine, even though he didn’t think she’d had anything to drink.

He drew his free hand up to cup her face, marveling at the silkiness of her skin, the soft whimper in the back of her throat, the fact that he was really here kissing Meg— Meg , for crying out loud.

When she ended the kiss, he had to bite back a scream of frustration. Her breath sounded faster in the darkness, and her grip on his fingers was so tight he wondered if she remembered she was touching him.

“So that’s what it’s like,” she whispered.

He laughed, his voice echoing off the walls, and he hoped no one walked by right then and heard them.

“That’s what it’s like,” he said.

“It was different than I thought,” she said. “Sweeter.”

“You thought I might be the type to shove you up against the wall and have my way with you?”

“Jesus.” Her sharp intake of breath told him he’d shocked her, but before he could apologize, she was whispering again.

“Yes. I’ll admit it, that’s always how I imagined you.”

“You imagined me?” The thought intrigued him.

“I don’t mean when I was with Matt,” she said, her words soft and rushed. “I just meant since the night on the sofa.”

“Right,” he said, not wanting to admit he had a different definition of always.

From the first moment I met you . . .

He considered asking her about that Thanksgiving night three years ago. Had she felt something, too, or was it all in his head?

“We should probably get out of here,” he murmured, wishing he could do anything but that. Wishing he could stay here forever.

“You’re right. Kendall has probably sent out a search party by now. How long have I been in here?”

Not long enough , his brain telegraphed, but instead he answered, “Ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Wow. You move pretty fast.”

He laughed. “Me? You’re the one who kissed me.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Damn straight.”

“Well, in that case, this was the best kiss in a cleaning closet at a funeral that I’ve ever experienced.”

“Likewise.”

“I’m going to slip out now. Maybe give it a few minutes before you leave?”

“You don’t think it would be a good idea for someone to spot us ducking out of a closet together at my brother’s memorial service?”

“Probably not. Especially with my lipstick smeared all over your mouth. Here, I think I have a tissue somewhere—ew, wait, that one’s used.”

“It’s fine,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips were still tingling, and it seemed like a damn shame to remove any traces of the best kiss he’d ever had.

She took a deep breath and let go of his hand. “Okay then,” she said, stuffing her feet back into her shoes and gaining a few inches of height. “Thank you, Kyle. I feel better now.”

“Same.” He’d come in here seeking solitude, but Meg’s presence had turned out to be the balm his soul needed.

His gaze tracked her form as she crept to the exit, bathed in a sliver of light that seeped through the edges. He watched her press an ear to the door, listening for voices. “Sounds like the coast is clear,” she murmured.

“Good luck.”

She pushed open the door, and Kyle heard the clamor of voices coming from upstairs. Light washed over the inside of the closet, and he stepped back a little, not wanting anyone to spot him if they happened to walk by.

But the hall must have been empty, because Meg stepped out into the light.

She turned and gave him the barest hint of a wave, then pushed the door shut behind her.

He listened to her footsteps echoing down the hall as she walked away, and he felt a pang of sadness that had nothing to do with the memorial service he’d just attended.

Your brother’s memorial service, you disloyal ass.

Kyle closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, listening to the thud of his own heartbeat. He waited until it slowed down a bit, listening at the door as a pair of voices trickled past talking about a memory of a time Matt shared his glove with another player at a Little League game.

That was me, thought Kyle, not sure if it mattered. Me who shared the glove, not Matt.

But it had been Matt who made the kid laugh.

The boy had a drunk dad and a dead mom and a lower lip that quivered when he looked up into the stands and saw his father hadn’t come.

Matt took him under his wing, telling him filthy jokes and glowering at anyone who mocked the kid’s hand-me-down uniform.

That’s the Matt I want to remember , Kyle thought, his throat swelling tight with the memory. The Matt who gave wedgies to defend a poor kid’s honor.

He wasn’t sure if five minutes had passed, but the coast seemed clear and he was sure he’d heard Meg’s footsteps fading up the stairs several minutes ago. He pushed the door open, squinting as the light hit him in the face.

A woman was walking down the other end of the hall toward the bathroom, but she had her back to him, so Kyle slipped out the door.

He shut it softly behind him, hoping he didn’t smell too much like cleaning products.

He lifted his shirt sleeve and sniffed, but didn’t notice anything especially fragrant.

Maybe a trace of Meg’s perfume, but that was probably all in his head.

He took the stairs slowly, not eager to get back to the crowd upstairs. He hadn’t hit the bar yet, so maybe he’d grab a beer or a plate of food and?—

He froze at the top of the stairs. Ten feet away, Meg stood at the edge of the railing, her fingers clenched so hard around it her knuckles had gone white. Beside her, his mother was talking fast, her cheeks flushed as she thrust an envelope at Meg.

Kyle stepped forward, a cold prickle creeping up his arms as he heard his mother’s words.

“This is your official notice of legal action,” Sylvia said. “You can contact our attorney if you have any questions.”

Meg’s face was ashen, and she looked at the envelope like Sylvia had just blown her nose on it. She reached out and took it, and Kyle could see her hands were shaking.

“What’s going on here?” he asked. He took in his mother’s red-rimmed eyes with dark circles beneath them, and his heart twisted. He looked at Meg, feeling his chest clench tighter at the sight of her pale, bewildered expression.

His mother was first to speak. “I’m protecting your brother’s legacy,” she said as tears glinted in her eyes. “I’m making sure his work wasn’t all in vain.”

“How are you doing that?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“By claiming his half of the cookbook.”