Page 23 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

Listening to the fly buzzing, she closed her eyes and blocked out the world. Lethargy was the remedy for the pain in her chest. She finished her wine. Time passed.

A knock on the front door. A delivery? Probably books or hair products that she had ordered online. She didn’t get up. There were instructions to leave packages on the front veranda. They would go away, eventually.

When she turned her head, her eyes fell on Oliver, standing in the back door.

Startled, she almost fell off the seat .

‘Hello,’ he said, offering a casual smile. With his hands buried in his pockets, he appeared nonchalant.

She stood up. ‘Did you come back for something?’ She glanced around the room, wondering what he might have left behind.

‘Are you okay?’ The way he looked at her, smiling with his forehead furrowed. ‘Can I come in?’

She moved aside. He walked into the kitchen.

‘It feels like I did something wrong,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure what that was.’

She wrung her hands. ‘Oliver, you seem nice. I like you. But I have this organised life that’s going amazingly well. House, business, dog. It’s all marvellous.’

He nodded. Like Snood, he was a good listener.

‘I came to Eagle Nest to escape my past. I wanted to move to a small country town, curl into a ball, and throw a rug over myself. My goal in life was to feel safe. It worked. But it’s taken a lot of knitting for me to feel this good about myself.

My wardrobe is filled with jumpers and cardigans.

Three drawers of socks. Now you’re here, rattling the doors of my safe space.

I honestly don’t know what to do about my feelings for you.

’ She paused. ‘I think I just overshared.’

‘Never.’

She took a breath. ‘The truth is, I’ve been let down before.

More than once. It’s an embarrassing thing to admit, but I might be suspicious of your gender.

’ Tears welled in her eyes. Embarrassed, she brushed them away.

‘I do like you. But I’m a terrible chooser, so I can’t trust my judgement.

’ A pained expression followed this statement.

‘Lucky for you, I’m an excellent chooser. Come here,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘You might need a hug. ’

He took her hand and pulled her closer. She didn’t resist, and he wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled into his chest, sighed, and breathed in the eucalyptus scent of his woollen jumper – the comfort of hand-washed wool – and Elsie’s lavender soap.

‘You’re allowed to hug me back,’ he said. ‘It’s not against the rules of a small life.’

She thought it might be against the rules, but she did it anyway, slipping her arms around his waist.

‘Mia, I need to kiss you.’

Her instincts were firing; warning bells were ringing inside her head, but they weren’t enough. There was more to life than knitting. The moment she lifted her head to look at him, he leaned down and kissed her.

Holding his face, she kissed him back. Inside her, a locked door creaked open.

He pulled away, leaving the smallest space between their lips, and looked into her eyes, trying to gauge her response.

She swallowed. ‘No need to stop.’

‘Encouragement, I like that.’ He kissed her again, and she returned his kisses. She might talk herself back into this.

His gaze, when his lips finally left hers, was heartfelt. ‘Mia, what do you want?’

Such a simple question – but she had no idea what the answer was. She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘When you decide, call me.’

He left through the front door.

What did she want ? She looked at Snood. ‘I already have so much.’ She had a house, a job, a great best friend, family close by, and the best dog in the world.

She considered her reflection in the window. ‘What do I want… how ?’ There were multiple interpretations of this question, and therefore, a myriad of responses, but she knew that in this situation, it came down to two options: sex with Oliver or something more. Something deeper.

What did she want?

The answer was love. The answer was everything. She wanted everything a relationship could offer. There was no point doing the maths again. She wasn’t getting any younger. A successful business, a beautiful house, devoted friends, and the best dog in the world were not going to be enough.

‘Shit! Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t you be enough? Why can’t Holly be enough? This beautiful town? Blanche and Leo? And April and the Sit & Knit group.’

Snood barked.

‘You’re right. The Sit & Knit group will never be enough.’

Later that evening, Mia opened her laptop. She ran an internet search on why younger men liked older women. Multiple reasons were offered, but the one that stood out the most was that older women knew what they wanted. She closed her laptop and pushed it across the kitchen table.

Snood joined her. She admired the tufts under the dog’s ears and ruffled fur at his elbows. She saw how attractive his slim feet and strong ankles were. His black, expressive eyes were like dark pools.

She picked up her phone and called Holly. When she answered, Mia said, ‘Oliver came to my house today and we had lunch. Last week he reorganised my storeroom. I feel something.’

A long silence followed.

‘Are you expecting me to answer? The tone of your voice is unclear,’ Holly said.

‘The problem is, my life is great,’ Mia continued.

‘Is it? Is it really that great? Because the more you tell me how great it is, the less I believe you. And just to be clear, organising your storeroom isn’t a metaphor for sex, is it?’

‘No. I’m content. Most days, I’m content. Do I want to confuse everything and invite pandemonium into my life? You know how long it took me to get over Alfie. Am I even over him?’

‘It’s been three years. We’re all over him.’

‘I think Oliver might be a player. Not a keeper, but…’

‘You like him.’

‘I do. I like him.’

‘Then, go out with him,’ Holly said.

‘But he’s a single dad – actually, that’s not a problem because I’ve met Tash and she’s great.

He’s unemployed and, somehow, he’s misplaced his life savings.

The rumour is that once the will is sorted, he’ll sell the parsonage and hit the road.

I would be certifiably insane to fall for someone like Oliver. ’

‘Then have sex with him.’

‘If we have sex, I might never hear from him again. Then, occasionally, I’ll bump into him on the street, or our paths will cross when he collects Tash from the Sock Club. I can already feel the pain from those moments.’

‘Mia, there is more to life than knitting. I think you know that.’

A long silence followed. Eventually, Holly said, ‘I know you’re happy, except on Mondays and Sundays. What happens if your unhappiness spreads to other days of the week? What will you do then?’

Mondays and Sundays were Mia’s worst days. There was no reason her unhappiness should spread to the other days of the week. She ended the call.

Overcome with a powerful impetus to knit, she picked up her needles and counted her stitches. Her long fingers cast off one colour and added the next. When she had finished a few rows, she put her work down, carefully rolled it into a bundle, and slipped it into a bag.

Leaving the kitchen, she walked down the hallway and opened the front door. Standing on the stoop, she looked down across the river and over the town until her eyes landed on the parsonage. She had a good view of the building.

In her heart, she felt the tug of potential love. But it whispered unfulfilled promises that lingered in the air like a regretful ghost.