affection?
None of your business.
True, but it didn’t stop her brain from churning away. Oliver was a nice guy, a lovely man—and his ex had betrayed him horribly. It seemed to Mackenzie that the very least the other woman could do was leave him to lick his wounds in peace.
She banged the salad bowl onto the draining board, only registering how worked up she’d become as the sound echoed around the kitchen. There was no reason for her to get so riled over Oliver’s private life. Yet here she was, feeling oddly protective of him. And maybe a little...jealous?
“Sorry about that.”
She spun on her heel to find Oliver in the doorway, his mouth a hard, unforgiving line, his body taut as a bowstring.
“It’s all right. Gave me a chance to tidy up a bit.”
He glanced around, absorbing the fact that she’d cleaned. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He was so unhappy. So angry. She made a quick decision.
“Listen, you look as though you might need some time alone. Smitty and I should probably be heading home anyway.”
She collected her salad bowl.
“I was going to offer you coffee.”
“I can’t drink it anymore, sadly. Which means you’re officially off the hook. Thanks for dinner. I had a nice night.”
He eyed her intently. “I don’t want you to go.”
She blinked, more than a little thrown by his simple honesty.
“I mean, I don’t want her call to ruin a good evening. Or, more accurately, for me to let her call ruin it.”
She understood what he was saying, could hear the frustration in his voice. She could remember the early days of her own divorce only too well. The struggle to redefine herself. The need to move on.
“Okay.” She set the bowl on the drain board.
His expression softened marginally. “Are you allowed tea?”
“Tea’s great, thanks.”
“Go relax and I’ll bring it in.”
She returned to the living room and resumed her previous position. Her wineglass was warm from being too close to the hearth but she swallowed the remaining mouthful anyway. The dogs were in their usual tangle, sleeping cheek by jowl. Oliver entered a few minutes later with two teacups and a box of chocolates wedged beneath his arm. Some of the tension had left his face and the look he gave her was sheepish. She lifted a hand to stay the apology she suspected was forthcoming.
“Don’t. I get it. It’s not a problem,” she said.
“Easy for you to say.” He offered her the ghost of a smile before sitting and sliding the chocolates toward her.
He started talking about the local shop where he’d found them, but he was so palpably making an effort it was almost painful to watch. She waited until he’d wound down to silence before she spoke.
“Listen, if you need to vent or rant right now, let off a bit of steam, I am totally open for business,” she said.
After all, he’d been on the receiving end of a pretty comprehensive gut-spill from her not so many days ago. It seemed only fair to return the favor.
“Thanks, but everyone knows there’s nothing more tragic than the cuckolded husband bleating on about his ex-wife.”
“I must have missed that memo. But if you don’t want to bleat, that’s fine, too. Just wanted you to know the option was there.”
He looked at her for a moment, as though trying to assess if her offer was genuine or not. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
He set down his cup. “Edie had a minor car accident and she needed to know where I’d filed our insurance information. Not a big deal.”
Except it was, because he was desperately trying to move on from his ex’s terrible betrayal. Every contact was a reminder of what he’d lost, of what Edie had thrown away.
“Okay.” She studied the tense set of his shoulders for a beat. “A question for you—who are you more angry with, her or yourself?”
His gaze was arrested. As though she’d goosed a raw nerve.
“I mentioned I’m divorced, right?” she said. “I’ve played this game before.”
He nodded slowly. Thoughtfully. “Yeah, you did.”
“I spent the first year after my divorce kicking myself around for having married Patrick in the first place, it being pretty obvious by that point that it hadn’t been my best move ever. It took me a while longer to appreciate the joys of twenty-twenty hindsight. No one gets married thinking it’s going to fail. No one.”
“I appreciate the get-out-of-jail-free card, but I’m not about to let myself off the hook for failing to notice that my wife