The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,93

spade a spade. She would curl her lip with scorn at the thought of sneaking around behind her partner’s back. She’d see it as a cop-out, as the actions of a scared, indecisive, weak woman. And Mackenzie was none of those things.

Sometimes even when you know someone is wrong for you, you get sucked into old patterns and behaviors.

He swore. If there were a brick wall handy right now, he’d bang his head against it. As it was, all he could do was grind his teeth together as his brain kept feeding him worst-case scenarios.

Because Mackenzie might not be interested in Langtry, but there was nothing to say that he didn’t want to pick up where he’d left off. And Mackenzie might be angry with him, she might be hurt because he’d dropped her so callously after her accident, but she’d admitted herself that she had a weakness where he was concerned. She’d said Langtry was charming—and he was. Most of Australia agreed with her. The guy was good-looking, wealthy, famous. A walking, talking female fantasy, basically. Oliver was willing to bet that if the other man turned it on and applied himself, there weren’t many women who would say no to him.

Langtry could be working his magic right now. Using his shared history with Mackenzie to push all the right buttons. Wooing her, slowly but surely.

For Pete’s sake, stop. Just stop. Mackenzie is not interested in her ex. She’s interested in you. She’s sleeping with you.

He knew the voice in his head was right, but the worm of doubt kept working away in his gut. For six years he’d been a dupe. He’d swallowed Edie’s lies because he simply hadn’t believed that anyone was capable of that kind of deceit.

He knew differently now. People were weak. People said one thing and then did another. People made mistakes, then kept on making them, over and over. Was Mackenzie immune from any of that? Was he? Wouldn’t he be exactly the same gormless idiot all over again if he simply sat back and let this happen?

Somehow, he’d found his way back to his street. The Ferrari was ahead, a screaming testament to Langtry’s success and desirability. What kind of a chance did Oliver stand against a guy like that? How could he possibly compete?

There was so much adrenaline charging around in his system he felt sick. He stopped outside Mackenzie’s house and stared at the soft light showing through the glass panel in the front door.

He could simply walk up and knock, say he’d been out for a walk and thought he would join them for coffee.

Or he could sneak along the side of the house and take a look through the kitchen window. Just to check what was going on.

For freak’s sake, can you hear yourself? Are you insane? What is wrong with you?

He didn’t know. He felt possessed. As though there were two Olivers at war within him—the Oliver who was in love with Mackenzie, who believed in her, who was already planning a future with her, and the Oliver who had been badly burned by Edie’s lies and was still recovering from six years of deceit and betrayal. One part wanted to believe, to trust, while the other wanted to make sure that he would never, ever put his faith in someone or something without being absolutely certain that it wouldn’t turn on him.

Nothing in life comes with that kind of guarantee. Nothing.

Strudel strained against the leash, keen to return home, but he remained staring at Mackenzie’s front door, rooted there by his suspicion and jealousy and doubt.

Headlights flashed across him as someone turned into a driveway farther up the street. It was enough to make him move, and he turned away from Mackenzie’s place and trudged up the driveway to his aunt’s house.

Strudel resumed her spot by the fire the moment they entered, but he was too agitated to sit. He hated the way he was thinking, yet he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t push the ugly image of Mackenzie in bed with Langtry out of his mind.

Langtry touching her. Kissing her.

He thumped his palm against the side of his head, trying to dislodge the picture, but it was stuck there, held in place by pride and anger and hurt and self-doubt.

Call her. Call her and listen to her voice and remind yourself of who she is and who you are.

Relief flooded him. He could totally call her without coming across as some kind of possessive, jealous stalker.