The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,106

after months of staring at this footage in the edit suite.”

“You’re not deluded. You’re clever and talented and passionate and committed. And you did it, sweetheart. You did it.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Because of you. Everything is because of you, Oliver.”

Because he believed in her. Because he loved her. Because he rubbed her shoulder and hips when they were sore and made sure she ate properly and forced her to sleep when she needed it. Because he was a true life partner, someone who was in the trenches with her, fighting at her side.

Because he was Oliver.

He didn’t say anything, simply pulled her into his arms. They rested their cheeks together, arms tight around each other. For a moment, her love for him was an ache in her chest, a tangible thing.

“Once upon a time, I used to think I was happy,” Oliver said after a moment of perfect silence.

She drew back a little so she could look into his eyes. “And now?”

“Now I know. Beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

She took a slow, deep breath, savoring the moment. There would be many others like this, she knew. But this one was still precious, and she was going to treasure it. She was in the right place at the right time with the right man, and it was good.

Best of all, they’d done enough miles and weathered enough storms to know it. It didn’t get much better than that.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from Within Reach by Sarah Mayberry, available as an ebook.

Within Reach

Sarah Mayberry

PROLOGUE

ANGELA BARTLETT STRODE up the path toward her best friend’s house, very aware she was running late. It was a warm October day and only the screen door barred her way when she arrived on the front porch.

She rang the doorbell, then leaned close to the screen. “It’s me. Sorry I’m so late,” she called into the house.

“So you should be.” The voice echoed up the hallway, followed by the sound of footsteps.

A petite, pretty woman with pixie-cut blond hair appeared, a baby balanced on one hip. She was dressed in hot-pink capri pants, an aqua T-shirt and bright yellow sneakers with hot-pink laces.

She sounded grumpy, but her brown eyes were smiling and Angie knew she wasn’t really in trouble. They’d been friends long enough that Billie could easily forgive a few minutes’ tardiness.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Angie said, dropping a kiss onto her friend’s cheek as she opened the door. The baby stared at her with big, liquid eyes and she dropped a kiss onto his forehead, too. “Hello, Charlie-boy.”

“Shh. We’re pretending it’s any old party so one of us doesn’t get all maudlin about getting old,” Billie said.

“Thirty-two is not old,” Angie said, as they walked into the spacious country-style kitchen.

Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a deck. The adjacent open-plan living room was also flooded with light, the brightness accentuating the brilliant jewel tones of the furnishings. Like Billie herself, this was a house full of color and life and vibrancy.

“Where’s Michael?” Angie asked when there was no sign of Billie’s husband.

“Where do you think?”

Which Angie guessed meant he was in his study. An architect, Michael often brought work home with him, something Angie knew Billie sometimes resented.

“Auntie Angie.” A small body launched itself at Angie and Billie’s five-year-old daughter wrapped her skinny arms around Angie’s hips.

“Hi, Eva.”

Eva looked up at her, adoringly. “I thought you were never going to come.”

Angie sank onto a crouch. “I was late. Sorry about that.” She hugged her goddaughter close, breathing in the smell of berry shampoo and Barbie perfume.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Eva said mock-sternly. She was a cheeky little thing, funny and smart as a whip.

“I will make a concerted effort, I promise,” Angie said solemnly.

“Okay, time to get this party started,” Billie said, crossing to the sound system and hitting a button. James Brown’s “Get On Up” blasted through the house. Billie started dancing, holding Charlie out from her body and shaking her backside as only she could.

Angie smiled at her friend’s antics. “Here’s an idea—you could just ask Michael to come out of the study like a normal person,” she yelled over the music.

Billie simply grinned and kept dancing.

Eva giggled, thrilled to be part of the conspiracy to flush out her hardworking father. Angie grabbed her hands and they joined Billie, doing their best to match Billie’s moves.

A minute later, a tall, broad-shouldered figure appeared in the doorway. Michael Robinson’s dark, curly hair was ruffled. His feet