The Other Side of Us (Harlequin Superromance)

by Sarah Mayberry

  She stood. He watched as she started to dress, turning away to pull on her jeans. The bumps of her vertebrae looked incredibly fine and fragile as they marched down her back. He wondered what she’d been about to say, and why she’d chosen not to say it.

  Something about her apartment or Gordon’s job offer, maybe?

  Something about him?

  Oliver knew he should ask, but he wasn’t ready for what she might say if it was the latter. Not yet.

  There was still time yet. Ten more days.

  Following her lead, he started to get dressed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SMITTY WAS WAITING by the door when they arrived at her cottage. Mackenzie prepared herself for the happy dance, but instead he whined anxiously and trotted up the hallway, glancing over his shoulder to see if she was following him. She realized Strudel was missing and threw Oliver an uncertain glance as he followed her inside.

  “Something up?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They found the dogs in the living room, Smitty standing over Strudel, his tail down. Strudel glanced at them from beneath her eyebrows but didn’t move, the tip of her tail barely twitching in welcome.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay?” Oliver said, crouching to run a hand down her body.

  She turned her head to lick his hand briefly before closing her eyes again. It was so removed from her usual buoyant behavior that Mackenzie felt a spike of alarm.

  “Maybe the bone didn’t agree with her?” she wondered out loud.

  She glanced around, looking for it, and spotted a gelatinous mess by the French doors.

  “Oh. It looks like she’s thrown up.”

  Oliver followed her gaze, his face creased with worry.

  “Has she ever done that before?” she asked.

  “Not since she was a puppy. She used to eat the filling from her toys and then throw it up a few days later. But she hasn’t done that for over a year.”

  Mackenzie joined him by Strudel, patting the dog’s silky coat.

  “What do you want to do? Take her to the vet?”

  “Is there one nearby?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve been to a clinic in Rosebud a few times, but I don’t know if there’s anything closer.” She checked her watch. It was nearly seven. “But they probably wouldn’t be open now, even if there was one nearby.”

  As though she sensed their dilemma, Strudel pushed herself to her feet and started wagging her tail in earnest, nuzzling her snout into Oliver’s hand.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. The look he gave Mackenzie was baffled.

  She shrugged. She had no idea what to do, either. “This is where a basic grasp of English from you two would be really handy,” she said to the dogs.

  Oliver ran his hands over his dog, pressing on her belly, checking her paws and eyes. Strudel tolerated the inspection happily enough, waiting patiently for it to be over.

  “Well, I’m a sound engineer, not a vet, but she seems okay to me.”

  “She’s not quite herself, though, is she?” Mackenzie said.

  “No.” He scratched under Strudel’s chin. “Why don’t we keep an eye on her, and if she’s still lethargic in the morning, I’ll take her to the vet?”

  He didn’t voice the other option—that her condition might deteriorate even further—but they both knew the possibility was there.

  Mackenzie was aware of a low level of anxiety within herself as she made spaghetti for dinner, something she’d like to attribute to concern for Strudel but that she suspected had been present since their arrival at her Melbourne apartment.

  It had been unsettling, walking into a space that had felt more like a museum celebrating her former life than her home. The furniture, the food in the cupboards, even the toiletries in the bathroom had looked familiar but strange. She’d always been proud of the decor—she’d paid an interior designer enough to create it for her—but all she could think when she stood in her living room was that the couch looked incredibly uncomfortable and that the sculpture by the window was dangerously sharp.

  The whole experience had been jarring. As though she’d spied an old family snapshot and not recognized herself.

  Gordon’s phone call and subsequent job offer hadn’t helped, either. Despite having had several hours to digest what had happened, she was still no closer to making a decision—yet another marker of how everything in her life had shifted since the accident. Home wasn’t home anymore, and apparently her ever-present ambition had mellowed.

  At least, that was the way it felt right now. But maybe Oliver was right. Maybe she had only to move into her apartment and it would become home again. The same with Gordon’s job offer. If she took it, she’d essentially be slipping back into her old life.

  It should have been a reassuring thought. It was what she’d been striving for through months of arduous rehab, after all. But it didn’t feel reassuring. It felt...empty. Hollow.

  They settled in for a quiet night, turning in early after watching half a movie. Mackenzie was aware of Oliver getting up twice in the night to check on Strudel, but both times he returned to bed and assured her everything was fine.

  Strudel wasn’t interested in her breakfast the next morning, however, sniffing her bowl disinterestedly before returning to the cushion and settling down to sleep again.

  “I could defrost some chicken to see if she’ll eat that,” Mackenzie offered.

  “Thanks, but I’m going to take her to the vet,” he said.

  She would do the same in his shoes. She stayed with Strudel while he went next door to shower and change, patting the schnauzer soothingly.

  “You’re okay, aren’t you, girl?” she crooned.

  She hoped she was correct, because she didn’t even want to contemplate how horrible it would be if there was something wrong with Strudel.

  Oliver was back quickly, his hair wet.

  “I’ll come with you. Give me a couple of minutes to dress,” she said.

  “It’s okay. I have no idea how long we’ll be and there’s no need for both of us to waste a day.”

  If it was a waste, of course. Mackenzie fervently hoped it was.

  She was tempted to insist, wanting to be there for him, but he seemed impatient to go and she didn’t want to overstep the mark. They were only temporary lovers, after all.

  “Well, call me the minute you know anything, okay?” she said.

  “Give me your number and I’ll save it into my phone.”

  She blinked in surprise at the request. They’d been living in each other’s pockets for nearly three weeks now, and yet they hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers. It seemed almost unbelievable given the times they lived in.

  She pulled her scrambled thoughts together. “It’s O-4-3-0—”

  “Wait. Damn. My phone’s dead.”

  She walked to the bench and grabbed her phone from her bag.

  “Take mine. I’ll charge yours while you’re gone, and you can call me on your number.”

  They both had the same phone model, so there would be no issues with her charger fitting his phone.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course.”

  She helped him herd Strudel out to his car, then stood on the front porch with Mr. Smith and waved them off as they reversed into the street.

  “Please, Universe, let Strudel be okay,” she said, casting her gaze heavenward.

  If she wasn’t— She didn’t want to think about it. Oliver had suffered enough loss and unhappiness in his life recently. He was due some luck.

  Tense with worry, she went inside to pace and fret.

  * * *

  OLIVER KEPT ONE eye on the road and the other on the rearview mirror as he drove, constantly checking to insure Strudel was coping okay. She seemed fine, her tongue lolling as she gazed out the window for a bit before settling down and going to sleep.

  He told himself she was probably fine and that he was being a fussy helicopter fur parent, but his gut was still
uneasy.

  If something was wrong with his dog...

  No. He couldn’t let himself go there. He’d take this one step at a time, save the freaking out for when it was needed. If it was needed.

  Mackenzie had drawn him a map to help him find the vet clinic and he found his way there with only one wrong turn—quite the achievement given his navigational handicap. The woman behind the counter gave him a brisk smile when he approached, Strudel padding obediently at his side.

  “We need to see a vet. I don’t have an appointment, but I think this is an emergency,” he told her.

  “Okay. Have you been here before?”

  “No.”

  She passed over some forms for him to fill out and told him it would be a fifteen-minute wait. He sat on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and filled out the form with one hand, the other resting comfortingly on Strudel’s shoulder. She was still just a baby, really, only eighteen months old. Surely there couldn’t be anything serious wrong with her?

  He’d just handed the clipboard with the form to the receptionist when Mackenzie’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the screen, wondering if he should simply let it go through to voice mail. He didn’t want to invade her privacy.

  Then it occurred to him that it might be her calling him, and that if she was worried about her privacy she wouldn’t have lent him her phone.

  “Who the hell is Mackenzie and why does she have your phone?” his brother said the moment the call connected.

  “Brent. How did you get this number?”

  “How do you think I got it? I rang your phone, and Mackenzie answered it and gave me this number. Which is her phone, apparently.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re a little excited,” Oliver said drily.

  “So would you be if you rang me and a strange woman answered the phone.”

  “Unclench. Mackenzie is my neighbor. Our neighbor, technically, since you own half the house.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why she has your phone.”

  Oliver sighed. The receptionist was giving him a look to let him know she didn’t appreciate being forced to eavesdrop on his conversation. Signaling to her that he’d be outside, he and Strudel exited to the parking lot.

  “My phone was dead and I needed to take Strudel to the vet, so Mackenzie offered me hers.”

  “Mighty generous of her.”

  “She’s a nice person.” Oliver could feel his brother burning to ask the obvious but Oliver wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

  “How old is this Mackenzie person?” Brent asked.

  “I don’t know for sure. About my age, I’d say.”

  “Is she married?”

  “Nope.”

  “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

  “Not really your business, mate.”

  “I’m going to take that as a yes. Wow. You don’t muck around, do you?”

  Irritation ate at the edges of Oliver’s temper.

  “In case you’d forgotten, Edie is the one who screwed up our marriage, not me.” Yeah, okay. So there were some vestiges of anger about his marriage hanging about his psyche. And how like his brother to find those buttons and push them. “Was there a reason you called, other than to interrogate me about stuff that has nothing to do with you?”

  “You can’t tell me you’re getting jiggy with some unknown woman four months after your marriage ends and expect me to not have an opinion.”

  “First, I didn’t tell you anything—you guessed and assumed. Second, it’s been nearly five months. And I don’t need your permission or approval to have a private life.”

  It came out sounding angrier and more serious than he’d intended and he could feel his brother’s surprise radiating down the line.

  “Okay. Calm down. I only want to make sure you’re not jumping into anything crazy.”

  Oliver glanced through the glass panel in the clinic door, willing the vet to call him in so he’d have an ironclad excuse for bailing on this conversation.

  “I appreciate the concern, but you need to stop worrying about me, okay? I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than fine. I’m good.”

  “Guys do weird things when they get divorced, Ollie. Trust me, I’ve seen it. They buy stuff they can’t afford and hook up with women they shouldn’t hook up with—”

  “Mackenzie isn’t like that, okay? She’s smart and she’s funny and she has the second-coolest dog in the world. So put your smelling salts down, I don’t need an intervention.”

  There was a small pause. “You sound pretty serious about her.”

  Oliver let his breath hiss out between his teeth. Then he laughed, because it was either that or throw Mackenzie’s phone across the parking lot in exasperation.

  “Let’s get this out of the way. Yes, I am serious about her. She’s special. She makes me feel good. I think you’d like her. Happy now?”

  “Mate, it’s been four months.”

  “Five months, and I’m not turning my back on something good because the numbers are wrong. Mackenzie and I are good together. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Ollie, listen to me. There is an extremely high likelihood that thanks to what happened with Edie your head is still up your ass in some capacity right now. Anything you get into is going to be swayed by that. There’s a reason people have mourning periods, you know. To give themselves time to decompress.”

  Oliver glared at the road. “Since when did you have a psychology degree?”

  “Simply stating the facts, that’s all.”

  “You know what? I need to go.”

  He should have ended this conversation ages ago. Like the moment Brent started the I-know-best older-brother routine.

  “You know I’m right.”

  And there it was, right on cue.

  “I’ll speak to you later, okay?”

  “Ollie, don’t hang up. Just listen to me, okay? Statistically most guys remarry within a year of getting divorced.”

  “So?” His brother loved statistics. No wonder he was an accountant.

  “So you probably want to be sure that you’re jumping into something because you really want it, not because you’ve gotten comfortable living your life a certain way.”

  Oliver snorted his disbelief. “Right. I’m so desperate to have a joint bank account and someone leaving the toilet seat down again that I’m going to latch on to the first passing woman.”

  “Can you honestly say there isn’t a part of you trying to replace what Edie took away from you?”

  Oliver wanted to reject his brother’s words in the same way he’d rejected everything else Brent had said, but he could hear the very real concern in his brother’s tone. As much as it galled him to admit it, were Brent and Sandra ever to break up, Oliver would be pretty worried, too, if Brent started waxing poetic about another woman so quickly. As irritating as his brother’s fussing was, it came from a good place.

  “If you’d met Mackenzie, you’d understand.” Oliver thought for a moment, trying to articulate his feelings. “When I’m with her, it feels right, you know? Am I a little freaked out by how fast it’s all happened? Yes. But life doesn’t work to schedule.”

  Brent was silent for a long beat. “Does she feel the same?”

  The million-dollar question. Oliver squinted into the sun.

  “We haven’t talked about it.”

  Another silence. “Okay. It’s your life.” Brent said it with all the weighted doom of someone handing out a death sentence.

  “Stranger things have happened, you know,” Oliver said quietly. “Who says that because I wasn’t looking for it, this isn’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

  “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver saw the vet come out and talk to the receptionist.

  “I have to go. Did you need anything?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to let you know that Sandra’s offered to load all the furniture on eBa
y so we can sell it off. If you send her the pictures and descriptions, she’ll take care of it.”

  “Great. Tell her thanks from me.”

  “Okay.”

  Oliver ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. His brother’s timing was awesome. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate right this second with Strudel being under the weather.

  He shortened the dog’s lead and reentered the clinic.

  “Sorry about that,” he told the receptionist.

  “You’re fine. All taken care of?” she asked.

  Her gaze was curious and he wondered how much she’d heard.

  “Thanks, yeah.”

  “The vet will be with you in a minute.”

  Oliver resumed his seat, signaling for Strudel to sit at his feet.

  He felt rattled and off balance after Brent’s call. He should have told his brother to pull his head in rather than feed his curiosity. Oliver didn’t need to justify himself to anyone.

  He picked up one of the magazines piled next to his seat, then put it down again. Brent’s words kept echoing through his head, setting his teeth on edge.

  There is an extremely high likelihood that thanks to what happened with Edie your head is still up your ass in some capacity right now.

  And: You probably want to be sure that you’re jumping into something because you really want it, not because you’ve gotten comfortable living your life a certain way.

  He shifted in his seat, forcing himself to consider his brother’s words, even though they made him uncomfortable. Was it possible he was simply seeking to replicate what he’d lost? Was he simply one lonely, pathetic half of a whole, looking for another half—any other half—now that Edie had revealed their marriage to be a sham?

  He was relatively certain the answer was a resounding no. Being married had suited him in many ways, but he hadn’t loved being married that much. He wasn’t lying awake at night missing arguments over the remote control and who left the lid off the toothpaste and whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher. His attraction to Mackenzie was because of who she was, not some sort of limpet instinct on his behalf.

  “Strudel Garrett?” a male voice said.

  Oliver shot to his feet, wondering how long the other man had been standing there, waiting for him to notice him.