Page 21 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

NEW PEOPLE

Standing in her kitchen, Mia turned to Snood. ‘We need to find new people.’

Snood smiled and wagged his tail; new people were always welcome. But only small groups were tolerable; crowds were overwhelming. The dog also liked it when the new people brought a plate.

‘Did you hear the things they were saying?’ Mia continued.

Snood barked. His water bowl was almost empty. Mia filled the bowl, placed it by the back door, and Snood took a large drink. He smiled again and looked her in the eye.

‘Really? What exactly did you hear? Tell me everything.’ When he didn’t answer, she said, ‘What do you mean you can’t talk?’ She crouched down and patted the dog. ‘If you had a job, you’d be a bartender because you’re such a good listener. Yes, you are.’

The dog nuzzled her neck.

‘Lunch with Oliver is not just lunch, I know that. Do you think it will be the start of something?’ She paused. ‘What have we got ourselves into? You know how much I hate new beginnings.’

Snood licked her cheek.

Mia frowned. ‘Yuck.’

The problem with new beginnings was that they infringed on other important things, like creating patterns, making yarn samples, and improving her distribution system.

Life and the universe set the stage for people to find love, because it had to begin somewhere, but infatuation consumed a lot of valuable headspace.

She wasn’t infatuated with Oliver, despite his impossibly long eyelashes, flowing dark curls, charming smile, and friendly disposition.

But she admitted to thinking about him most days.

Mia’s phone rang. It was Holly, and she answered the call.

‘Sorry, but I just have to whine,’ Holly said. ‘I’ve had the worst day.’

Mia sat down in the little sitting area next to her kitchen. Snood ambled up to her, and she ruffled his neck. ‘I’m listening,’ she said. ‘Go for it.’

‘He leaves the wet sponge in the sink without rinsing it out. That drives me insane. He checks his phone at dinner, and he sends emails from bed. His clothes are all over the house. Wet towels. Underwear. Socks.’

‘Socks?’ Mia asked.

‘Yes. And he only writes in uppercase. I have a marketing degree and I’ve sat through hundreds of presentations – everyone knows you’re not supposed to use all caps.

It’s like being shouted at.’ Holly felt strongly about this because she was now shouting.

‘I don’t want to pick up after someone else. ’

‘I get it, I really do, but you’re having a baby… together .’

‘Miles is so ambivalent about this baby. He doesn’t care one way or the other if we have a child. ’

‘Not true.’ Mia looked out the window at the night sky. A sliver of moon peeked through the parting clouds. The storm had missed them.

‘It is true,’ Holly continued. ‘Every night I go to bed thinking what the fuck have I done. In the morning, I wake up and say to myself, ‘Today will be better. It’s going to be okay.’ To be fair, coffee helps. Then, as the day progresses, I feel overwhelmed again. By the evening, I’m sad.’

‘Are you anxious about the birth?’ Mia asked.

‘Maybe.’ Holly let out a deep, emotional sigh. Mia pictured her sitting in the semi-darkness of her cold kitchen, her little house surrounded by olive trees and grapevines, all alone.

‘I thought getting married and having a baby would be enough, but it’s not. Mia, you have the perfect life.’

‘My life is not perfect. And being single isn’t something to aspire to.’

‘You’re single and happy. You keep telling me how happy you are. How great things are. Life is all sorted. Who needs a man? Or a marriage? We can do this all on our own.’

‘Those were not my exact words, and I’m not the poster girl for the single woman’s movement.’

‘Why the fuck not?’

‘Because I might want those things. I might want to get married…and have a family.’

‘Why ruin it? Men get a lot more out of marriage than women. They get a cook and a cleaner. But more than that, they get a captive listener, someone obligated to listen to all their crap, which is what they want most of all.’

‘You’re generalising.’

‘No. Married men earn more money and they live longer. Women have a shorter life expectancy if they get married.’

‘That’s alarming. ’

‘I know. Sometimes I feel like I’m emotionally handcuffed.’

‘Do you want me to come over? I’ll bring my Allen key and uncuff you.’

‘No, but thank you for listening.’

After the call had ended, Mia thought, This will pass.

Holly and Miles were not the benchmark couple for a successful relationship, but no relationship was perfect.

They were expecting a baby, and it was a tumultuous, scary time.

Upheaval was often the result of change.

The fighting would pass. Questioning a relationship was normal.

It was healthy. Occasionally, people looked at the person they were with and thought, god, how did I end up with them? Holly was having one of those days.

Unfortunately, the days had turned into weeks.

Mia changed into her pyjamas. She kissed Snood goodnight.

Peering into the dog’s dark eyes, she said, ‘You were a good boy today, yes, you were. Job well done. But we have a busy day tomorrow. Lunch! Can you believe it? What have we got ourselves into? A lunch date – and I volunteered to cook. And he’s coming to our house. ’

Snood burrowed his face into her neck.

‘You’re right, he’s very nice.’ She stroked the dog’s velvety ears. ‘But we’re different. He’s a country boy who doesn’t want to be here and I’m a city girl who never wants to leave.’

She let go of the dog’s face. He pawed her leg and rolled onto his side; one last pat before bed. She obliged, scratching his stomach.

‘Differences can also be a good thing,’ Mia said.

Like a base yarn combined with a contrasting yarn.

A strong, bulky fibre mixed with a finer, softer wool, like silk blended with alpaca.

The result would be a durable textile with softness and added warmth.

They might make this work. She could talk herself into this.

She turned to Snood. ‘What do we really know about him?’

The dog followed her into the bedroom.

‘He was born in Eagle Nest. A mechanic, he worked in the Kimberley, running motorbike tours. His wife died a few years ago – I heard it was cancer – and now his mother-in-law has embezzled his savings. He owns one of the nicest cars I’ve ever seen.

It’s also very clean. From what I can tell, he’s a good parent.

Apparently, he can dance – that was a surprise.

His Italian suit must have cost thousands.

’ She turned to the dog. ‘It doesn’t quite add up, does it? ’ Tash had told her he used to compete.

Mia opened the internet browser on her phone and entered his name.

Photos appeared. Mostly headshots. When she scrolled down, dozens of images filled her screen.

‘What the…’

Oliver, standing beside a bike or on the podium or in the pits, wearing leathers covered in sponsorship logos.

There were other pictures of him with women.

Many women. Women wearing tight jeans and T-shirts, his arm around their waist, some were kissing his cheek.

There were women in the VIP section of the racetrack.

Women in the pits after the race, before the race, and cheering him on during the competition.

Women wearing evening gowns at social events, holding his hand.

Hip to hip, fixing his hair. Gazing adoringly at him.

‘My god.’

The man was famous. Or he used to be famous. In the photos, he looked younger. With his dark, curly hair and boyish good looks, he was still captivatingly handsome. It was good to see he had maintained his athletic physique.

She reviewed the details of his racing history. Winning the under-sixteen championship had earned him a place on an international training squad. He raced in Asia, Japan, the US, and Europe, the centre of international racing. He had notched up two wins and stood on the race podium eight times.

She looked at Snood. ‘Eight times!’

One article said his legacy was not the time he spent on the podium, but his determination.

In a quote, Oliver stated, ‘The only reason I’m here is to win.

’ Another newsfeed referenced his mechanical ability; he knew his bikes better than any other rider on the track.

He could diagnose an issue before his team knew there was a problem.

His persona on tour was the quiet, shy type.

Affable was how the sports journalists described him.

The easy-going Australian with an infectious smile and a lovable personality.

He held onto that smile even when things didn’t go his way.

Underneath, he was fiercely competitive, and the centre stage suited him.

Then, in one of the biggest stories to rock the sport, he retired due to personal reasons. What did that mean…personal reasons? She looked at Snood. He didn’t have the answer.

There was only one more thing she wanted to know: his age. At the peak of his career, he was twenty-five. As her fingers tapped the keyboard, she said, ‘Please, be forty.’ There was no way he was forty. ‘At least thirty-six. Please be thirty-six. Or thirty-five.’

He was thirty-one. Five years younger than her.

Mia closed her laptop. She could talk herself out of this.