The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,103
not an option.”
“Nothing has changed, Mackenzie. Nothing I put in that letter has gone away.”
“I don’t care.”
He laughed, the sound hollow and hard. “That’s because you don’t know how screwed up I am.”
“I don’t care.”
She was so brave, appearing on his doorstep, her heart in her hands. Offering to take him on, no matter what.
“Maybe I’m not as strong as you,” he said quietly.
“Because it’s scary trusting someone again?”
He swallowed the last of his pride. She deserved the truth.
“Yes.”
She caught one of his hands in both of hers. Her eyes were brimming as she looked at him. “I understand. I understand that you need time. I understand that what happened between us wasn’t on your agenda. I understand that there might be some rocky times ahead, for both of us. But I’m still standing here.” She held his gaze, her chin tilted in challenge. “And I still love you. And I’m not going to stop loving you. It’s taken me nearly forty freaking years to find a man who makes me feel the way you do and I am not going to let that slip away because you want to spare me what you think are the worst parts of yourself.
“So be afraid. Be angry. Be jealous. Be possessive. Be whatever you need to be. But please, let me come along for the ride. I promise I will hang in there with you. I promise you that there is far, far more good between us than there will ever be bad. I promise you that your heart will always be safe with me. Always.”
Her hands were trembling as she pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.
“All I ask is that you don’t shut me out. Let me walk beside you. Let me be there for you. Let me love you.”
He’d never cried in front of a woman in his life, but apparently there was a first time for everything. He blinked and turned his head to wipe his face on his shoulder. Then he hauled her into his arms and held her so tightly his shoulders cracked.
“I love you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said fiercely.
“I know. I don’t want to hurt you, either. I figure if we’re both trying, if we’re both careful, we’re in with a pretty good chance. Don’t you think?”
She pulled back to gauge his response and he saw that she was crying in earnest, too.
“It kills me when you cry,” he said.
“I can’t even begin to tell you what it does to me when you do.” She captured his face in both her hands, brushing his tears away with her thumbs. “Don’t be afraid of me, of us, Oliver. Give us a chance.”
He wrapped his hands around the fine bones of her wrists. “Do you honestly think I have anywhere near the strength to walk away from you twice?”
She smiled. “Thank God.”
She kissed him then, her body straining toward his. He let go of her wrists and wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet as they kissed. She laughed against his mouth, her arms circling his neck.
“I love you, Mackenzie,” he said.
The words felt so good in his mouth.
“At the risk of repeating myself, thank God.” She kissed him, hard, then glanced over his shoulder. “What are the odds that there’s a bed in this house somewhere?”
“Very high.”
“What are the odds I might get to inspect it anytime in the next sixty seconds?”
“Even higher.”
She gave a whoop as he bent and picked her up in a firefighter’s hold.
“Oh, yeah. This was worth a trip to Sydney,” she said as he strode down the hall to his bedroom.
The dogs skittered after them, excited by all the noise, dancing back and forth. He turned into his bedroom and let Mackenzie fall onto the bed as gently as he could. Then he went to the door and whistled the dogs away from the bed.
“Outside, now,” he said.
Strudel gave him a wounded look before slinking into the hallway, Mr. Smith trailing after her. Oliver kicked the door shut and reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head.
Mackenzie propped herself on her elbows and watched him undress, her cheeks flushed, her hair spiky on one side.
“Worried about having an audience, huh?”
“Worried your dog will pick up some new tricks. He’s already got enough moves.”
He shucked his jeans and moved toward the bed, impatient to be skin to skin with her again. Needing the rightness of it.