The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,99

to find something to say that wasn’t a plea.

“Can we at least talk about this?”

“I’m still on the road. But I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Okay.”

“Stay well, Mackenzie.”

She couldn’t get anything past the lump in her throat. The next thing she knew, she was listening to the dial tone.

She stood frozen for a long moment, utterly stunned by how quickly things had turned. Then reality caught up with her as key parts of their conversation hit home.

I’m not ready for you... I can’t handle you, Mackenzie...I’m not ready to take anything on faith right now.

Oliver was walking away. He’d stormed into her life like a freight train, riding to her rescue, enduring her antisocial rudeness, reminding her that there was more to life than rehab and producing a TV show. He’d made her feel sexy and desirable and alive again. He’d reignited her long-buried passion and dreams. He’d made her feel full of possibilities.

And now he was pulling the pin. Because he wasn’t ready for her and because he thought she didn’t need him in her life.

“Bullshit,” she said, the word rising from her belly on a wave of disbelief. She slapped her hand on the counter.

Bullshit he wasn’t ready for her. And bullshit she didn’t need him. She needed him like she needed air. She needed him like she needed heat and light and laughter. She needed him so much it hurt.

When he called again, she would tell him. She would apologize for what had happened with Patrick, and she would let Oliver know in no uncertain terms how she felt about him.

Until then, she was—somehow—going to have to hang on to her patience and her sanity and not panic. Because this was not over. Not by a long shot.

Because she needed something to do to keep the anxiety at bay, she pulled everything out of the hall cupboard. She worked methodically, refolding linen, pairing pillowcases with sheet sets, culling ragged towels and putting them aside for the ragbag. She couldn’t stop thinking about last night as she worked, about what it must have been like for Oliver. She’d been so stupid, so unthinking. If she’d only stopped to consider the situation for a moment, she would have understood that Patrick barging in and attempting to take over would have sent up all sorts of flares for Oliver.

After all, not six months ago, he’d discovered his wife had been having an affair for almost as long as they’d been married. With a man she’d been involved with beforehand.

Mackenzie couldn’t even begin to comprehend what the discovery of his wife’s betrayal had done to Oliver’s sense of trust. Edie’s breach of faith had been so profound, so all-encompassing....

And last night, Mackenzie had blown off her plans with Oliver because Patrick had conned his way into her house. Worse, she’d foolishly, blindly, agreed to let Patrick sleep on the couch, and she’d missed Oliver’s phone call....

God.

She felt sick, thinking about what must have been going through Oliver’s mind as he sat next door while she pandered to Patrick’s ego. What he must have been imagining, or trying not to imagine.

Somehow she managed to make it through the afternoon. As the light started to fade from the sky, she began pacing by her phone, willing it to ring. She should have asked where Oliver was so she’d have some idea when he might arrive in Sydney. As it was, the best she could do was pace and fret and chew her nails to the quick.

When he hadn’t called by seven she called him and got voice mail. She left a message for him, but when he hadn’t called back by nine o’clock, she knew he wasn’t going to.

So, what, that’s it? He drives off into the sunset and you’re supposed to nod and chalk up the best few weeks of your life to experience and move on?

It was much easier to be angry than to give in to the horrible despair lapping at her ankles.

He’d made promises to her. Not verbal ones, perhaps, but his body had made promises to her every time they slept with each other. He’d made love to her with a single-minded intensity and cradled her afterward as though she was important to him. He’d told her she drove him crazy and that this wasn’t only sex and that he wanted them to keep seeing each other when he went home.

He’d made her believe that they’d found something special together despite the geographical challenges and the flux