Page 80 of Compared
“I think so too.”
“How are things going with Anna Mae? Have you seen her again?”
“Nope. It’s like my dad has completely forgotten about our family, especially my mom, and replaced us with this new woman. He spends all his time with her.”
Notallof Paul’s time is spent with Anna Mae. I’m thrown in there too, sometimes, when we meet up at the cemetery.
“I feel bad for Anna Mae. I really do,” Meg says quietly.
“Why?”
“Because one day she's going to wake up and realize that my dad is just using her to replace my mom so he’s not so lonely. It's not fair to either of them. Poor Anna Mae will always be second in comparison to my mother. In my eyes, and eventually in my dad’s eyes too.”
It’s not my place to tell Meg if she’s right or wrong. Her feelings are real. It’s a tough situation that I hope will get better over time.
I reach for a picture on the top shelf. “Is this you and your mom?”
“That was Mother’s Day two years ago. I bought her a plant and tickets to see a play.”
I know what Marilyn Johnson looks like—her picture is on her headstone. But seeing Meg standing next to her with her arm around her makes things more real. “You look a lot like her.”
“Not really. I have my dad’s light coloring.”
“But you have your mom’s smile.”
“You think?” Meg takes the picture from me and studies it, tracing the curves of her mother’s face. “It’s a good picture of us.” She goes on her toes, trying to put the picture on the top shelf, but she’s struggling. The frame teeters on the edge, threatening to fall.
“Let me help.” I step toward her, reaching up. My arm lightly touches hers, and my fingers skim over the top of her hand. A surge of chills travels from where our hands meet down to my toes. Blue eyes peek up at me, and suddenly we’re locked in this position—stopped in time. My heartbeat drums louder inside my ears, and my eyes fix on Meg’s gorgeous face.
Then they drop to her lips.
I want to kiss her again. I want to feel the same explosion of feeling when our lips touch.
It’s a euphoria that can’t be replicated any other way.
Her tongue swipes over the tip of her mouth—slightly. She knows a kiss is on the table, and she’s not pulling away.
But I can’t kiss Meg. I can’t kiss her when I know she’s worried about losing her job. I’ve already done that, and I felt awful about it.
I have to leave.
I push the frame the rest of the way onto the shelf and drop my arm. “I better go pick up Krew from my brother’s house.”
Meg tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, of course.”
Is she disappointed? She seems disappointed. Maybe I should scoop her up in my arms, dip her back, and kiss her like she’s never been kissed before.
It’s tempting.
So very tempting.
I shake my head and turn to the door. “Thank you for letting me crash your take-out dinner.”
“I’m just glad you were the only person who had taken a bite out of your food.”
“Me too.”
I force myself to open the door.
