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  “I beg your pardon?” Franklin said, directing his attention to Kyle.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Kyle said, his eyes never leaving Meg’s. “I was speaking to Meg.”

  “I—um—what?” Meg stammered. She tucked her hands between her knees to make them stop shaking.

  “Were the terms of the contract fulfilled?” Kyle repeated, his gaze still locked with hers.

  “This is ridiculous,” Sylvia sputtered. “It’s obvious Matt wasn’t in his right mind when he wrote that, and even if he were, that’s hardly the sort of evidence that would hold up. Twenty-five sloppy BJs? For the love of God, what kind of—”

  “Answer the question, Meg.” Kyle’s voice was hollow and felt like a stake driving into her chest. “Unless you want me to?”

  The attorneys’ gazes were swinging back and forth between the two of them, realization dawning as they seemed to grasp that there was more going on here than legal wrangling.

  Beside Kyle, his mother sputtered. “This is asinine. I want everyone to stop this line of discussion immediately. It’s disrespectful, crude, and entirely irrelevant to the case at hand.”

  Kyle tore his gaze from Meg’s, and she felt the floor drop out from under her. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t really be throwing her under the bus like this.

  “They’re the ones who took it to this level,” Kyle said, his voice eerily soft as he spoke to his mother. “If they’re going to make the claim that this is a legitimate contract, and these are the terms Matt supposedly set out, then I think we’re within our right to address whether the terms of the contract were fulfilled.”

  He looked back at Meg, and she could see something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Remorse? Jealousy? Sadness? She couldn’t identify it, but she could identify the feeling in the pit of her own stomach.

  Betrayal.

  Not the first time she’d looked into a pair of gray-green eyes and felt a sinking sense that her whole life was about to unravel.

  Every pair of eyes in the room had shifted to her, and Meg wondered if it was possible to pass out from sheer humiliation. She looked up at her attorney, who for the first time ever, seemed at a genuine loss for words. He shook his head. “You don’t have to answer that.”

  “You’re right, she doesn’t,” Kyle said. “I’ll do it for her.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Kyle had never hated himself more than he had in that moment.

  That’s not true, his subconscious reminded him. And right now you’re making up for the one time you hated yourself more than this.

  He looked at Meg, wishing he could hit rewind on this entire conversation and do things differently. But if he had the option to rewind, there was a different moment in time he’d choose to erase. Would any of them be sitting here right now if it weren’t for that?

  “Meg,” he said softly, not sure what he planned to say next. I’m sorry? I had to do it? Don’t hate me?

  But his brain flashed to an image of Matt in a hospital bed two years ago, his face drawn and pale and racked with guilt. Kyle could picture it in his head like it was yesterday, the doctors murmuring about depression and suicide risk while Matt gripped Kyle’s arm with alarming force. “Swear to me you won’t tell anyone,” Matt had hissed. “Not a soul.”

  And Kyle hadn’t. Not ever.

  Now, Meg stared at him, her expression somewhere between shock and hurt. He watched her throat move as she swallowed, and he wanted to jump from his seat and tell her she didn’t have to answer. That it was no one’s business how many blowjobs she’d given his brother. That he’d give anything not to know.

  But he did know. He knew because she’d told him in hushed tones on a cot in his studio. He knew because he remembered the feel of her bare breast under his palm while she told him her most intimate secrets.

  “No.” Meg’s voice was so soft the word dropped like a feather in the center of the room.

  Albert leaned down, still towering over her, probably enjoying this moment more than he’d enjoyed anything else in his career as an attorney. “I beg your pardon, dear?”

  Meg looked at him, her eyes flashing with humiliation and betrayal. She looked back at her own attorney, who held up his hand again to urge her to stay silent. Part of Kyle hoped she might.

  He watched her left hand start to lift, her fingers en route to her earlobe, and he knew she was planning to bite back the retort bubbling inside her. But as her gaze swung back to his, her hand dropped like a dead bird. She looked at it lying there on her lap, then back at him.

  “No,” she said again, her voice stronger this time. “While my fiancé and I didn’t keep a tally sheet in our bedroom, I can say with almost absolute certainty that between the date he took those photos and the date of our wedding, I did not—” she broke off there, shaking her head and giving a brittle little laugh that made Kyle’s chest ache. “I did not give him twenty-five ‘sloppy BJs.’” She made air quotes around the words, her eyes pooling with tears of embarrassment and anger.

  She swung her gaze to his and shook her head. “As a matter of fact, I probably didn’t give him even a dozen ‘sloppy BJs,’ or even half-a-dozen tidy ones. And if you want to get technical, I could probably count on one hand the number of times he went down on me the entire time we were together. Is that what you want to hear? Is it?”

  Odd how her voice could be a shout and a whisper all at the same time. Kyle had never heard her sound like that, had never seen such bitter fury in her eyes.

  “Meg!” Kyle’s mother bolted up, her fists clenching in fury. “I want you out of this house right now! You’ve made a mockery of these proceedings and my son’s life. I have never despised anyone more in my life than I do right this second.”

  Meg reeled back as though slapped. Even from across the room, Kyle could see her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. It was a miracle of gravity they weren’t spilling down her cheeks in earnest, but maybe it was sheer fury holding them back.

  As she swung her gaze to him, he felt sure that was the case.

  She pressed her lips together, and he wondered if she was holding words in, or honestly at a loss for what to say. When she stood up, she had to catch the back of her chair with one hand to keep from wobbling.

  “I’ll show myself out,” she said, nodding at his mother with a look that split Kyle’s heart in two.

  She took the steps to the door on legs that looked like they might not hold her upright, but she held her head high, the tears still not falling. Her lawyer looked down at the baggie in his hand, seemingly at a loss for what to do with it.

  He shoved it in his briefcase, then nodded to the others in turn. “Counselor. Mrs. Midland. Mr. Midland. We’ll discuss this further at a later date.” He cleared his throat. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Kyle’s mother shook her head as she sat back down beside him. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk next to her. She blew her nose, her eyes red and filled with anger and pain and a whole host of other emotions Kyle knew all too well. He put his arm around his mother, not sure what else to do.

  “We’ll see you in court,” she snapped at Meg. “Or in hell!”

  The lawyer nodded again, then turned to catch up with Meg. She hadn’t made it out the door yet, and Kyle saw her hesitate on the threshold, her fingers clenched on the doorframe. He expected her to march out of the room without a backward glance, but instead she turned to look at him.

  Kyle held his breath, waiting for her to unleash the fury he knew he deserved. He sat frozen in place, expecting her wrath, welcoming it.

  Forgive me, his brain telegraphed, willing her to hear him. To understand why he’d done what he’d done.

  But instead, Meg shook her head. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes spoke the two words she’d said to his brother before walking out of that church two years ago. The parallel should have comforted him. Here he was, finally in his brother’s shoes.

  But the unspoken words felt lik
e icy daggers through his heart.

  Forgive me, he telegraphed again, willing her to hear him.

  I can’t, that look told him. Not ever.

  Then she walked out the door.

  “I don’t know whether to be freaked out or glad you’re not crying,” Jess said, handing her a box of tissues. “But here are some snot rags, just in case.”

  Meg shook her head and pushed the tissues away. “I’m done crying. I’ve done so much of it the last few weeks—hell, for the last two years—that I don’t have any tears left.”

  She thought about Kyle confessing his inability to cry over his brother’s death and his breakup with Cara. What made the difference between the tears falling or staying locked inside? She looked at Jess and shook her head. “I never thought he’d betray me like that. Kyle, I mean.”

  “Right. Betrayal from Matt wasn’t such a surprise, was it?”

  Meg didn’t say anything, too numb to form words.

  Jess sat down on the coffee table in front of her and put her hands on both of Meg’s knees. “Do you want me to tell you I think he should fry in hell? Because I can do that, if that’s what you need.”

  “What’s the alternative?”

  “Telling you something that might be a little harder to hear.”

  Meg swallowed. “Which is what?”

  Jess squeezed Meg’s knees, and the warmth in her eyes was almost enough to thaw the iceberg that had lodged itself in the center of her chest the moment Kyle had spoken in that meeting.

  “You did sort of back him into a corner,” Jess said. “I know it was a shitty thing for him to do, and he betrayed your confidence, but—”

  “But what?” Meg swallowed down the lump in her throat as the tears started to well. “Pillow talk shouldn’t be admissible in legal proceedings. End of story.”

  “Right. I know. But you were the one to bring up the sex thing. Not that I’m blaming you. God knows you did what your lawyer told you to do. What your agent suggested. And you know I have no kind feelings for Matt Midland, may he rest in peace.”

  Meg took a shaky breath. “I was looking out for myself. It’s something I did so rarely when I was with Matt. I thought—”

  “I know, honey, I was there. I watched that man back over you for years before you finally called it quits. Even before he cheated, he was running you down in small ways every single day.”

  “It wasn’t all bad.”

  “It wasn’t, I know.”

  “It was even pretty good, most of the time.” Meg sniffed. “At least I thought it was.”

  Jess nodded, her hands still warm on Meg’s knees. “When did you stop thinking that?”

  Meg hesitated, knowing the answer before her brain formed the words. “When I was with Kyle,” she said softly. “When I saw how different it could be.”

  Jess nodded and reached for Meg’s hands. “I know. It’s like spending your whole life wearing the wrong-sized bra and not realizing it. Then when you finally get the right size, you wonder how you never noticed before how uncomfortable you were.”

  “Yes,” Meg said softly. “That’s it exactly.”

  Jess let go of her hands and Meg leaned back against the couch cushions. She shoved hard at the memory of sitting with Kyle on this same sofa. Had it only been four weeks since this whole mess got started? It felt like mere days. It felt like a lifetime ago. She honestly couldn’t tell anymore.

  “Come on,” Jess said, standing up. “Let’s make dinner together. It’ll take your mind off things.”

  “Things,” Meg repeated. “Like the fact that I’m destined to lose the lawsuit that would have assured me the royalties I worked hard for? Like how much Sylvia Midland hates me? Like the fact that I just lost the man I thought I’d started to love?”

  Jess nodded, glancing to the side. “Or the fact that he’s standing on your doorstep right now?”

  “What?”

  Jess nodded to the front of the house, and Meg followed the direction of her gaze to her own front porch. Her gut twisted at the sight of him standing there. She couldn’t see his face through the frosted glass, but she’d have known his shape anywhere. She’d studied it with her hands, with her mind, with her heart.

  “I can get rid of him,” Jess said. “Either send him away, or arrange for him to meet a gruesome, painful death.”

  “No,” Meg said, standing up. Her legs weren’t shaking anymore, so she headed for the front door. “I want to get this over with. I want to hear what he has to say for himself so I can tell him goodbye to his face.”

  Jess stayed seated on the coffee table, a look of worry crossing her features. “Okay,” she said. “Do you want me to stay?”

  Meg hesitated, not sure anymore what she wanted. “That’s okay,” she said. “Thanks, though.”

  “No problem. Some conversations are meant to be private.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Jess snorted and stood up, crossing to the front door where Meg stood with her hand on the knob. “A word of advice?”

  “Don’t sleep with him? Not a problem. I’d sooner remove my own spleen with a spoon.”

  Jess smiled and shook her head. “Hear him out. You owe him that much. You owe it to yourself to get closure. You never had that with Matt, and it ate at you for two years.”

  “Yeah,” Meg muttered, glancing at the door where Kyle stood waiting, not knocking, not ringing the bell, just standing there waiting for her. “Point taken.”

  “Goodnight, sweetie,” Jess said, wrapping her arms around Meg’s shoulders and squeezing her with enough force to let Meg know she was loved beyond measure. “You got this.”

  “Thanks, Jess.”

  “Call me later?”

  Meg nodded and opened the door. Even though she knew he’d be standing there, her stomach still did a flip when she saw Kyle on her front step, the porch light making a halo around his head. He nodded at her, then at Jess. “Meg,” he said, his voice low and soft. “Jess.”

  “I was just leaving.” Jess moved around him with a glare that made it apparent she’d do grave harm to him if he did further damage. “I’m only a phone call away, though, Meg.”

  Meg nodded, watching her friend walk down the path to her car. She couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with Kyle. Not yet.

  When she finally did, the remorse in his eyes was enough to make her legs shaky again. She cleared her throat and willed herself not to blink. “Why are you here?”

  “There’s something else I need to say.”

  His eyes glittered under the porch light, and Meg stared at him, wondering if she’d ever really known him at all. She gripped the door tighter, willing herself to keep breathing. “I think you’ve said enough for one day, don’t you?”

  “No. I don’t. And I think you need to hear me out.”

  Rage flared in her, and Meg leveled him with a glare. “I don’t think I need to do anything you say, Kyle. You betrayed me. You took something I told you in confidence and you threw it in my face and—”

  “Confession number one,” he said, his voice loud enough to send Floyd skittering off the paisley chair behind her.

  Meg shook her head and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not playing your stupid game anymore! This is my life we’re talking about here. Besides that, I didn’t touch my damn ear.”

  “Confession number one,” he repeated like he hadn’t even heard her. “I was there when Matt cheated on you.”

  That got her attention. Meg closed her mouth as her tongue went dry and her throat closed up. “What?”

  “Not in the room,” he said. “It wasn’t like some sort of voyeuristic orgy or anything. But I was with him when he made up his mind to do it. When he decided he wanted to cheat.”

  “Decided,” she repeated dumbly, rolling the meaning of the word like a pebble on her tongue.

  “It was a conscious decision, not a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. That might be different from what he told you, or maybe from what he to
ld himself.”

  Meg swallowed hard, not sure whether that made it better or worse. Did she want to hear the rest of this?

  Closure, her subconscious whispered as Kyle studied her face.

  “Do you want me to continue?”

  She nodded, even though she hadn’t made up her mind yet. Then she stepped aside, granting him entrance to her home. She thought they might just stand there in the foyer, but he moved right through it. He paused at the entrance to the living room, and his eyes were dark when he turned back to her. “Is it okay if we talk in here?”

  “That’s fine.”

  He nodded, then moved around her sofa, pausing again. He took a few steps to the left, then folded himself into the stiff, paisley-print armchair Floyd had just vacated.

  Clasping his hands in his lap, Kyle waited for Meg to sit. She dropped slowly onto the edge of the sofa, not so much a decision to be seated as a certainty her legs wouldn’t hold her up much longer. She took a few deep breaths, steeling herself to hear what he had to say.

  “We went golfing,” he said. “It was maybe two weeks before the wedding, sort of a brotherly getaway. He probably told you that part?”

  She nodded, not sure what golf had to do with Matt having an affair, but knowing the details seemed important to Kyle. She remembered Chloe’s words the other day. Something about dragging all the skeletons out of the closet and sorting through the bones to see what scary things lurked there. Is that what Kyle was doing?

  Meg ordered herself to listen, to let the words sift through her ears and into her consciousness so she could absorb and process them, whatever they may be.

  “The golfing was Matt’s idea, of course,” he continued. “I always hated it, but I thought we should spend some time together. Anyway, it was an awkward day of having him goad me about my swing and my score and—well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It must matter,” she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Either to him at that moment or to you right now. That’s why you’re telling me this, right?”