Megan wouldn’t let them.
“Did he tell you that he was married before?” Hilary asked.
Megan’s ears rung in the silence. She finally drew in enough breath to speak with a measure of calm. “No.”
“His wife was sick in the hospital, being treated for leukemia. A story broke about Christian having an affair with some model. His wife died soon after that.”
Horror flashed through her. She recalled all too well Christian’s explanation about his aversion to the media, how a woman he had cared for had believed a false story about his infidelity. But Megan hadn’t realized the extent of how devastating it must have been for him. She hadn’t realized Cecilia had been his wife.
She suddenly longed to see him…to comfort him.
“I can see that he never got around to telling you any of that, either,” Hilary said after an extended silence.
“No, he didn’t tell me in so many words,” Megan finally said distractedly. “I fail to see how any of this is relevant.”
Hilary rolled her eyes. “God, Megan, don’t be dense. He’s stringing you along, telling you whatever he thinks will work to get you into bed with him.”
“I don’t think so,” Megan said softly.
Hilary’s anger seemed to deflate with Megan’s newfound confidence. Her eyes swam with tears. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?” she demanded in anguish.
“How can I tell you that I don’t need this anymore? I’m a grown woman. If Christian is going to break my heart, then so be it. You can’t be there to save me from every pain, every hurt. I love you for trying, Hilary, I do. And I know why you always have. But…please. Please…just let me go,” Megan finished in a strangled voice.
Hilary stared at her through a veil of tears. “I never meant—”
“I know you didn’t,” Megan interrupted before they hugged each other tightly. When they parted minutes later, they wiped the tears from the other’s cheeks, and then laughed helplessly when more fell to replace them.
* * * *
That afternoon, Megan avoided the crowds and the noise of the block party by taking her bike down to the lakefront and riding for miles. Afterwards, her mind felt clear, her thoughts less burdensome. She could consider things with a little more objectivity. The cathartic cry and the conversation she’d had earlier with Hilary had been a blessing to both of them. Megan smiled as she walked her bike up some stairs on the way home and recalled a portion of their conversation.
“Hilary, don’t you ever think that men might find me attractive?”
Her sister looked bewildered. “Of course. You’re very beautiful.”
“I wasn’t digging for compliments. I meant that there has always been a tendency for people who knew about what happened with Henry Nightingale to deny my sexuality.”
Hilary bit her lip nervously. “I guess you’re right. I never thought about it before. Maybe it was just easier to…subtract sex from the whole equation when it came to you.”
For a moment, Megan felt a familiar heaviness in her chest when Hilary looked sad and regretful. But then Hilary’s lips had quirked with a small smile.
“You’re not going to start going around like your friend, Tina, are you? Wearing corsets that push your boobs out to here and high-heeled, thigh-high boots in order to make up for all those lost years?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Well…maybe just the boots?”
They’d cracked up with laughter. Of course, Hilary hadn’t completely turned around. She’d tried to caution her again about Christian before she left, but then quieted when Megan gave her a pointed glance.
“You take care of yourself, Megan,” Hilary had said soberly before parting.
“I’ll do my best.”
Megan thought about Christian when she showered later that afternoon. She regretted her defensiveness, although she tried not to judge herself too harshly. It hadn’t been an easy realization for her, knowing that he was walking on eggshells around her because Hilary had told him about her past. All her vulnerabilities had marched defiantly to the forefront when she saw that look of stark anxiety on his face.
Nevertheless, when she thought about the way he’d touched her—made love to her so tenderly—she would stop whatever she was doing and stare blankly into space. Now, as she stepped out of the shower, her fingers skimmed across her breasts, belly, and thighs, temporarily lost in the erotic memory. When she glanced at herself in the mirror, she had to admit that Hilary had a point about her skin. It was flushed and dewy. She liked the way that her body felt so sensitized and alive, even if her emotions were turbulent.
She took extra time with appearance that night. It was hot outside, so she dressed in a red halter sundress that covered her front modestly, but left her back bare from the waist up. She brought along a white sweater in case the air-conditioning in the condo lobby was too high. She put on some strappy sandals that buckled around her ankles. Her hair was brushed until it shone in golden waves and fell around her shoulders and exposed back. She gave more attention to her eye make-up than she usually did. Afterwards, she had to admit the effort was worth it. Her eyes looked even larger than usual…
…sultry.