The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,90
her accident, though. At the very least, he’d owed her some kindness and consideration. The kind of compassion you’d show someone you cared about on a very basic level. And yet Patrick had been nowhere to be seen when it counted.
She filled the teapot with water and added it to the tray she’d prepared before taking it in to the men.
“Smells fantastic,” Patrick said as she passed him a cup.
“This is very civilized,” she said as she added milk to Oliver’s cup. “I feel like an extra in Downton Abbey.”
“I don’t think the extras would have been given hot tea to drink,” Patrick said.
“True.”
They talked about his drive down the peninsula and the weather before touching on industry gossip. Mackenzie felt herself being drawn in, even though she was very aware that none of it would mean anything to Oliver.
“Enough scuttlebutt, we’ll send Oliver into a coma.”
“Sorry, mate. Lifestyles of the rich and famous and all that,” Patrick said lazily.
Mackenzie’s back went up instantly. She wasn’t sure if it was the look in Patrick’s eyes or the way he’d said it, but there’d been something subtly, sneakily dismissive in his manner. As though he was drawing a circle around himself and her and leaving Oliver on the outer.
“Oh, Oliver knows all about that. Probably had more underwear thrown at him than you in his day, right, Oliver?” Mackenzie said.
Oliver glanced at her and she could see the question in his eyes. Immediately, she felt stupid. Oliver didn’t need her to defend him. Clearly he felt no compulsion whatsoever to compete with Patrick or try to one-up him. Which was admirable and infinitely more mature and likable than the way her ex was behaving.
“Do tell,” Patrick said, settling back into the couch as though he was there for a good, long stay.
Oliver’s smile was self-deprecating. “Ancient history, hardly worth talking about. And there wasn’t that much underwear.”
Patrick glanced from her to Oliver and back again. “So, what, no one’s going to let me in on the joke now?”
“I was in a band in the early nineties. We had a bit of success.”
Patrick studied Oliver through narrowed eyes. “You know, I thought I recognized you when I saw you. What was the name of the band?”
“Salvation Jake.”
“Yeah? I went to that gig you guys did at the first Big Day Out.”
Oliver shook his head. “That was a while ago—ninety-one, right?”
“Ninety-two. That was an awesome concert.”
There was new respect in Patrick’s eyes but Mackenzie wanted to squirm in her seat for trotting out Oliver’s history, as though his fifteen minutes of fame made him more worthy or important.
He was worthy and important all on his own. No fame required.
She settled for standing and collecting everyone’s teacups. “Anyone want anything else to drink? Something to eat?”
The sky had continued to darken with cloud-making the interior dim, so she flicked on the overhead light as she walked into the kitchen. Unless Patrick cut to the chase soon, he’d be driving home in the dark.
She dumped the dishes in the sink and nearly leaped out of her skin when she turned and found Oliver had followed her into the kitchen.
“Sorry,” he said, touching her shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I didn’t hear you, that’s all.”
“My years of ninja training paying off at last.” He glanced toward the living space, then lowered his voice. “Listen, I might leave you guys to it.”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do. The guy came down to talk to you, and he’s not going to spill his guts while a total stranger is sitting here.”
He was right, but that didn’t mean she was happy about his assessment.
“But we were going somewhere special for dinner.”
“Tomorrow night will be as good.”
“I was looking forward to putting on makeup and getting all gussied up.”
He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. “Tomorrow night. Lots of gussying. Tons of it.”
He was being generous, bowing out. She caught his hand in hers.
“Sometimes you’re too nice, you know that?”
“That’s a problem?”
“No. That is not a problem.”
Except that it made it extremely hard for her to keep her head where he was concerned.
“Give me a call when you’re done, okay?”
“I will.”
She waited at the counter while Oliver went to say goodbye to Patrick and collect Strudel, then she walked him to the door.
“I’m really sorry,” she said.
“Forget about it. It’s not a big deal.”
It wasn’t, but it was. She threw her arms around him and pressed her face into the place where his neck