“I’d like to say it was because we both realized it was a stupid idea and we were channeling our grief in an unhealthy way.” Meg frowned. “In reality, the oven beeped.”
Kendall looked thoughtful as she scooped up another handful of popcorn and chewed. “Why is it stupid?”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Um, because I spent ten years in a relationship with his brother?”
“At least you already know the family.”
“The family hates me. Besides, nothing really happened. Thank God.” She hesitated, rolling an unpopped kernel between her fingers. “There was this other time about three years ago, actually.”
“What?” Kendall gaped. “You kissed Kyle three years ago?”
“No! Absolutely not. Not even close.”
“Then what?”
“It’s nothing,” Meg said, wondering why she’d even brought it up. “We were out for a walk and I saw this dead dove on the ground and a living one on a wire overhead, and I know they mate for life and—” she stopped, surprised to feel tears spring to her eyes after all this time. “Anyway, I kept thinking about it all evening and getting choked up, so I ducked into the den so no one would notice.”
“Kyle noticed.”
Meg nodded. Kyle, not Matt. She didn’t need to ask how Kendall had guessed.
Which also meant her best friend understood it was about more than just a dead bird.
“Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “Kyle noticed, and he came back to check on me.”
“Did something happen?”
“No. Not exactly.”
Meg shook her head, remembering the way he’d stepped into the room smelling like cloves and firewood, his gray-green eyes glinting in the amber light from the desk lamp.
“I googled it,” he’d told her, his voice soft and urgent. “You’re right about the doves. They mate for life.”
Meg had nodded, not wanting to say anything for fear of bawling like a stupid baby.
“But the thing is,” Kyle had continued, “if something happens to one of them, they almost always re-partner.”
A lump had risen in Meg’s throat, and the tears inched closer to the corners of her eyes. She’d glanced toward the door, but the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the blare of football-fueled shouting in the family room told her the rest of Matt’s family was nowhere near.
She’d turned back to Kyle, startled to realize how close he was. “Thank you,” she’d whispered, not needing to say anything else.
He looked at her then—really looked at her. The first time anyone had done that for a long time. Neither of them said a single word, but their gazes seemed frozen together like a tongue on a metal flagpole. They’d stood at least a foot apart, but it was the closest she’d felt to anyone for years.
Maybe ever.
“Nothing happened,” she told Kendall now, her voice firm enough to jar her back to the present. “There was this—connection, I guess. But we didn’t even hug. He did touch my elbow.”
“Your elbow?” Kendall gave a mock gasp, pretending to be scandalized.
Meg smiled and looked down at her lap. How could she explain that with that single, half-second touch, he’d left her feeling more unraveled than she’d ever felt before?
She looked up again to see Kendall studying her. “You think he wanted to kiss you? Or you wanted to kiss him?”
Meg dropped the popcorn kernel back in the bowl, not willing to answer either question. “I never would have let that happen. Seeing how infidelity shaped my parents’ relationship—it’s not a line I’d ever cross.”
“Not like Matt did.”
“Not like Matt did,” Meg repeated, feeling hollow. “Anyway, it’s possible the connection with Kyle was all in my head. He moved to Montana a week later, and I was so busy with wedding planning that I put it out of my head. I really hadn’t thought about it until last night.”
