by Amy Andrews
“He’s on calls. I’ll ring him from the airport. He’ll understand.”
Sal shook her head. “I knew this was going to happen.”
“There is no this. Everything’s fine. My mother needs me, that’s all.”
Sal plopped herself down on the nearby stool. “You and Mack are good together, you know that, right?”
Josie sighed. “You heard Mack the other morning. Right here in this very kitchen. We’re each other’s rebound.”
“Sometimes, that can lead to more.”
“No. Don’t do this.” Josie pleaded with her eyes. This was hard enough without Sal unwittingly on her side. “I knew you’d try and match-make.”
“It can work.”
“You told me that rebound sex was temporary. Short and sweet, you said. The guy to get over the guy, you said.” If only Sal knew how this was breaking her up inside, presenting arguments against the very thing she wanted most. It felt like a hot knife was being jammed into her side.
“Yeah. And then you went and chose my brother.”
Josie sat down on a stool, too. “Sorry ’bout that.”
“I still think it could work out, though…between the two of you.”
“How’s it going to work out? You don’t stay with rebounds. Temporary, that’s what you told me, remember? And even if we did, it’d never last. Hooking up with someone because you’re desperate and horny is not a good basis for a permanent relationship. It’d fall apart.”
Josie had thought about it all night. Apart from that weird moment at the restaurant when he’d talked about her staying, he’d never indicated his feelings were anything more than sexual. Certainly, pulling away from her last night when she’d wanted to comfort him, had reiterated they weren’t.
Sure, she could stay, she could hope, she could build castles in the sky. And slowly lose her soul. She’d already done that in one relationship, holding on while she lost herself—she didn’t want it to happen again.
Mack had been very clear about what this was between them. So had she. They’d set the rules before they got involved, and she wasn’t going to be the one to break ranks.
London was calling. Adventure was ahead. And she needed that. She deserved it. She’d be foolish to drop it in the hopes that he might one day reciprocate her feelings.
“And then,” Josie continued, “just as you predicted, you’d be forced to choose sides. Everything will be fucked up because I’ll have lost, not one, but two friends.”
Sal looked at her gloomily. “He’s been so happy lately.”
Josie smiled even though those simple words broke her heart more than anything. She was glad he was happy, that she’d helped him with his post-Cynthia funk as he had helped her with her post-Curtis one.
But he could be happy with anyone. Making someone happy was easy. Especially when sex was involved.
She wanted more than that. She needed him woefully, miserably, wretchedly in love with her. And he certainly wasn’t any of those things.
“That’s because he’s having lots of sex with his rebound girl,” Josie quipped.
“Who’s running out on him.”
“Yeah, but now, he’s had the girl to get over the girl, and he’ll be ready to go forward.
“I think you love him.”
Josie’s heart almost seized in her chest as Sal hit way too close to home. “He’s Mack,” she said, forcing a cheery, flippant note into her voice. “What’s not to love?”
“Josie.”
“It hasn’t even been two weeks. I’m not my mother.”
“Who cares how long it’s been,” Sal dismissed. “You’ve known him forever.”
A horn sounded from outside, and Josie almost sagged in relief. She stood. “That’s the taxi.”
Sal stood, too. “I can’t believe you’re leaving early. Mack and I were going to throw you a little farewell party.”
“You were?” Josie felt ridiculously close to tears. “That’s sweet.”
“It was his idea.”
Of course, it was. But Josie couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Would someone who didn’t want you to go really throw a party for you? Wouldn’t he be down on his knees begging her not to leave?
“I’m not going forever,” Josie said, hugging Sal tight. “Just a couple of years. I’ll be a changed woman when I get back,” she joked. “I’ll be worldly and wise.”
“And maybe Mack will be ready for the one by then?” Sal said, her voice muffled in Josie’s shoulder.
“Oh, please, he’ll be married with a kid by then,” Josie said, ignoring the pain in her chest and the rawness in her throat. “You’ll be an aunt.”
“I’ll be a freaking great aunt,” Sal said.
Josie squeezed her eyes shut, the subtext unbearable. Sal would have made a freaking great mum. She whispered, “Yes you will.”
The taxi beeped again. “Sorry.” Josie broke away. “I gotta go.”
Sal helped her down with her bags, and they hugged again. “Say hi to your mum.”
Josie’s smile felt like a strip of cracked, dry leather on her face. “I will. Tell Mack…” Tell him I love him, and I’ll never forget him. Tell him he gave me back my life.
“Tell him I’ll call him from the airport.”
And then she was in the taxi pulling out from the curb. Twenty minutes later, she was at the international terminal and there was no time to think about Mack while she went through the check-in process, changed her money, went through several security points.
No time to think about what she was walking away from.
But when she finally got to her gate and found a nearby coffee shop and sat herself down in one of the chairs, it all came back again. She fished her phone out of her handbag as a waiter approached and took her order.
He left promptly, and she scrolled through her recent contacts, easily locating Mack’s number—he was practically the only person she’d rung or texted since fleeing to Brisbane.
Her finger hesitated on the call button, and she almost chickened out. Tears pooled in her eyes. One spilled down her face and then another. She didn’t know what she was going to say. What could she say to justify doing a runner?
Except for the three words she couldn’t utter?
Maybe, come with me? But she couldn’t say that, either. Mack was involved in an important government project he was passionate about for at least the next year, and she wouldn’t ask him to abandon that.
He needed to stay here, and she needed to walk away and not look back.
They’d made a pact that their liaison wouldn’t affect their friendship. Sal had called them naïve. And she’d been right.
Josie doubted she could ever just be friends with Mack now.
But maybe time would help.
More tears gathered and trickled down her face. Who was she kidding? Time wouldn’t help. Nothing would. She’d never find anyone like Mack. Sure, maybe there’d be other guys, eventually, but nobody like him. Nobody like her dear, sweet Mack.
Her no-more-Mr.-Nice-Guy, nice guy.
Her hands shook as she did the hardest thing she’d ever done and hit the call button. It rang promptly in her ear, and her heart was almost in her throat as she desperately thought up and discarded her opening line half a dozen times before his voicemail picked up five rings later.
His voice was deep and rich and perfect in her ear, and she didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed that it wasn’t really him. What she did know was she missed him already, and when it prompted her to leave a message she was lost, her throat clogging off with raw emotion. She sat there and said nothing until it beeped loudly in her ear to tell her it had timed out.
She hung up and started again, annoyed with herself. It was Mack. Her old friend. Her lover. It wasn’t his fault that she’d gone and fallen in love with him. He deserved an explanation for her abrupt departure.
She had to do this for him. Even if it was a lie. Even if it killed her.
/> “Hi… It’s Josie. I’m at the airport. Mum’s having a bit of a…meltdown, so I’m leaving early. I wanted to…I mean…just…thank you. For everything. You’ve given me the best ten days of my life, and I will never forget them. Sal said you were going to throw me a farewell party. Thank you. You’re so sweet. You’re a good man, Mack. The next girl”—a lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down—“is going to be damn lucky. Okay, they’re calling my flight,” she lied. “Take care.”
An anguished sob clawed at her throat, and more tears splashed down her cheeks as Josie hit the end button.
She hated the next girl already.
Chapter Twenty
Mack sat at the breakfast bar, coffee in front of him, listening to the voicemail message again. It was probably the hundredth time in a week. And it had been a very long week. And not just for him—for everyone around him.
He hadn’t exactly been great company.
Josie seemed to occupy his every waking—and sleeping—thought. Her leaving had affected him more than he’d thought it would. Sure, he knew they were only a temporary thing, but he couldn’t help but feel they had unfinished business. He’d hoped he’d have a few more days with her, to say goodbye properly.
To make up for freaking her out that last night.
Deep down, that was the real reason she’d run. Not because of her mother. She’d turned away from him that night, and he’d let her because he’d screwed up, and he knew it.
If only he’d hadn’t insisted on normal sex. He’d known what that meant to Josie, that she wasn’t interested in regular sex. Boring sex. Sex too reminiscent of what she’d left behind. He was pretzel guy. He’d been a fool to push it.
But damn it, was it so wrong to want to look into her eyes? They’d shared an incredibly heart-wrenching experience. Was it wrong to want to connect with her on a different level for once? On a level more intimate than just two bodies coming together?
And, despite how it had ended, he was pleased he had the chance to connect with her. Even if it had been the catalyst for her departure, he had no regrets. Looking into her eyes, he’d seen an entire suite of emotions flickering beneath the desire and pleasure. He’d seen worry, compassion, confusion, and sorrow. He’d seen understanding. He’d seen empathy.
He felt like he’d seen into her heart.
And just before she’d shut her eyes, he’d seen something else. Something sudden and surprising for her, turning her eyes all tawny and wary.
Something clearly unexpected.
And then she’d shut him down.
He clutched the phone as Josie’s husky voice told him he was so sweet, and he grimaced.
At least she hadn’t called him nice. Although sweet was only one rung up on the emasculating-things-to-call-a-man scale. Sweet was what Cynthia had said just before she’d thrown the N word at him and hightailed it out of his life.
You’re a sweet guy, Mack.
He hit the end button and slammed his phone down on the bench in disgust. Of course, Sal chose that moment to enter the kitchen.
“In a better mood today, I see.”
Mack grimaced. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me. Probably wouldn’t hurt treating the staff to dinner, though.”
“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll do that.”
Sal grabbed a mug. “You okay?”
Okay? Josie had walked out early and only left him a lousy voicemail. So much for their pact to not let their sexual relationship interfere with their friendship.
“I’m fine,” he dismissed.
“Fine…” Sal shook her head in disgust. “I can’t take it any longer. I think I preferred the way you were after Cynthia. Pissed off is much easier to deal with than this… defeat. I’ve given you some space, a week, hoping you might talk to me, open up to me. But I’m done sitting back now. So, for fuck’s sake, just ring her already.”
“Who?”
Sal gave him a look full of reproach. “You know who.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She’s living on the other side of the world, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Just to say hi. Ask her how she’s getting on over there. How her mum is. Just…friend to friend.”
“You’re her friend. You ring her.”
She stirred sugar into her coffee. “You would have rung her without thinking twice about it before you decided to ruin everything and sleep with her.”
Mack glared at his sister. He really didn’t want to talk about this. Not when there was nothing to say. Josie was doing exactly what she’d planned to do—seeing the world, having a grand adventure. “Did I try and push you before you were ready?”
“Nope.” She took a sip of her coffee. “But I’m the bossy, pushy one, remember?”
Mack smiled despite his bad mood. “I do now.”
“So, ring her.”
He sighed. “Sal. We were just a fling.”
“Is that why you’ve been sleeping on the couch? Why you haven’t slept in your bed—your brand new bed—for a week now?”
He dropped his gaze to sip his coffee. His bed smelled like Josie. The pillows were infused with her shampoo. The aroma of their sex clung to the sheets. His sleep was fitful on the couch, but at least his dreams weren’t disturbed by the very real scents of her.
“The bed smells like her.”
“So, change the sheets.”
Mack knew that was the simple answer. But he couldn’t bring himself to change them. Not yet.
“Or maybe you’d prefer to just burn the whole damn bed?”
Mack glared at her. “Not unless you’re on it.”
His sister grinned. “Ring her.”
God, she was like a cracked record. She should be employed in some gulag somewhere—more effective than water torture. “And say what?”
She shrugged. “That you miss her. That you wish she hadn’t gone?”
He almost choked on his coffee. “I can’t say that. This is her time for travel and love and adventure and sex.” He faltered just thinking about it. “This is her time to get a life,” he said, forging on, determined to be adult about it. “We were rebound sex for fuck’s sake.”
She put down her coffee mug. “Really? Is that all you were? Doesn’t it drive you nuts thinking about her loose on the other side of the world, flapping that damn list around?”
The knife inside Mack’s gut twisted a little more. He’d thought of little else. He stared at his sister with grim eyes. “It makes me want to smash things.”
“And why is that, do you think?”
Good question. Mack had resolutely refused to even go down that mental line of enquiry. They were a fling that had lasted ten days. Ten glorious days.
And it was Josie, for crying out loud.
But with Sal standing there, glaring at him, demanding an answer, he needed to stop hiding from the truth.
A pressure built in his chest as he grappled with his emotions. “Because I love her.”
There. The truth—the awful truth—was out, and he couldn’t call it back. The wall he’d stashed it behind in his chest ripped open, and a tsunami of suppressed emotion flooded him.
He rubbed a hand through his hair. What had he done?
Sal patted him on the shoulder. “Atta boy. Now, doesn’t that feel better?”
Mack shook his head. It felt worse. His ribs hurt like a bastard. “It’s madness. We were a…fling. It was ten lousy days.”
She quirked her eyebrow at him. “As someone who had to watch you two get kissy-kissy all the time, I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest there was nothing lousy about them.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You think you can’t fall in love in ten days?”
Mack believed that could happen, that it did happen—for some. Sal had known from the second she’d met Danny that she was going to marry him. But it had taken him a couple of months to fall for Cy
nthia, and he’d been thinking forever with her. “For us mere mortals, yeah.”
She gave him a pitying look. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not going to ask her to give up her big adventure for me.”
Sal reached across. “She’s only over there because she wants a fresh start, some excitement in her life, and she didn’t think she was going to find it here. But she did. She found it with you.”
His heart thumped loudly at the truth in her words, at the possibility. He had given her an adventure. But…
“She’s known me forever. I’m hardly a fresh start.”
“She hasn’t known you like that,” Sal said, bugging her eyes.
Mack smiled grudgingly, but he’d risked his heart before, and that was after a considered courtship. It seemed crazy to be even thinking like this after ten days. He was much more guarded with his heart this time around. He had to be. He wasn’t keen to have it stomped on all over again.
“Life’s short, Mack. You should book the next available flight.”
His belly stirred at the impulsive suggestion. His breath hitched at the thought of seeing her again. “I can’t just up and leave you in the lurch. And besides, I’m giving the presentation at the equine symposium on Friday evening.”
“So, get the first flight out after that. It’ll give me a couple of days to find someone to fill in.”
Mack’s pulse tripped at even contemplating such a crazy idea. Just leaping into the unknown. Without a parachute. But it suddenly felt like the sanest thing in the world.
And wasn’t love worth the risk? “I’ll go book my flight.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Josie lay in bed, watching a gray dawn break around the edges of her curtain, the distant sounds of traffic just beginning to filter in. She was not having an adventure. She’d been in dreary, cold London for one week, and it already felt like an eternity.
Her mother had taken her to all the major tourist’s spots. They’d shopped, eaten beef and Guinness pie in every dark-wood paneled pub they’d been inside of, and ridden the Tube endlessly. All the things she’d wanted to do.
But nothing brought her out of her funk.
