her life instead of sprinting toward the next finishing line.
Oliver glanced up, one finger remaining in the book to mark his place in the recipe. “Hey.” A slow, sexy smile curved his mouth.
A delicious warmth unfurled in her belly and chest at the sight of that smile.
Yeah, she was lucky. The luckiest woman alive.
“How was your day?” he asked as she moved to his side and lifted her face for his kiss.
His arms came around her, pulling her against his chest. She inhaled his familiar smell and made a “more, please” sound when he started to lift his head. After a moment she pulled away. He was in the middle of cooking dinner, after all, and they were no longer in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. She would give him another five minutes, ten tops, before she dragged him off to the bedroom to have her wicked way with him.
“My day was good. It’s better now, of course.”
“Naturally.”
She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow in response to his teasing. “What are you cooking?”
“I’m attempting to make a marinade for the chicken I bought for dinner.”
“Yum.”
He cocked his head a little. “Why are you looking so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?”
She pushed her hair behind her ear. It wasn’t quite back to its former swishy glory, but it was nearly to her shoulders now. Oddly, it had grown back with a pronounced wave in it since the accident. She was still trying to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
Before she could say anything, Oliver’s smile became knowing. “You finished the edit, didn’t you?”
“We finished the edit,” she confirmed.
He reached for the tea towel hanging on the oven handle and dried his hands. “Let’s go, baby. Show me what you got.”
She loved that he was as excited about this film as she was. Loved that he understood without her asking that she wanted to share this moment with him. The disc in her handbag was the culmination of years of work. It was the first thing she’d created that was entirely hers, born of her vision. And she couldn’t have done any of it without him by her side.
“I love you,” she said.
As always, the expression in his eyes grew soft as he looked at her. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
It hadn’t been easy for them to get to this place. There had been times over the past two years when things had been tense and unhappy. She’d uprooted her life in Melbourne to come to Sydney, and they’d weathered what had turned out to be a messy divorce, thanks to Edie’s ever-changing demands and priorities.
But Mackenzie and Oliver had made it. They’d purged the last of his past when they sold the house he’d shared with Edie, and three months ago they’d moved into this bigger, brighter house by the water in Rose Bay.
In short, life was good. And it was only going to get better with this man by her side.
Taking her hand, he led her into the living room. She slid the disc into the DVD player and they sat side by side on the couch as the screen filled with the credits for her Mary De Garis documentary. Clever, intricate guitar music accompanied the images flashing across the screen, underpinning the moody, slightly edgy vibe the production designer had created.
Oliver’s music, of course. It had taken her four whole months to convince him that she wasn’t “throwing him a bone,” as he called it, commissioning him to create original music for the documentary. It was only when she played him some of the alternative compositions she was considering and he understood how very wrong they all were for the project that he’d given in.
The result, everyone agreed, was wonderful. Subtle, unassuming music that worked with the themes the documentary explored rather than declaring itself and demanding the spotlight. He’d helped give her project heart, plucking at emotion when the narrative needed it, drumming with bravado when Mary was on the warpath, filling the blanks in the story with wordless emotion.
Mackenzie slid her hand into his as the narrator’s voice rose above the music, accompanied by a series of images of turn-of-the-century Melbourne. A thrill raced down her spine as she watched the way it all effortlessly flowed together.
After a few minutes, Oliver lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She glanced at him.
“It’s really good,” he said.
“God, I hope so. I hope I’m not completely deluded