Page 45 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

ASTON MARTIN

Lying in bed, Mia looked out the window. Between the trees, she had a view of the pale moon, which had risen with the sun. As the daylight sharpened, the sun moved higher and the moon’s ghostly presence faded. Only the clear blue sky remained. It was going to be a perfect, sunny day.

Mia’s thoughts turned to Leo and Blanche. Undergoing more tests and disheartening conversations with doctors in a bleak hospital in Sydney. Life was a waiting game, but there was a difference between waiting for a broken bone to heal and waiting for death.

She checked her phone; there were no messages from Blanche, but Holly had sent a picture of herself eating a dessert, which was followed by another photo of her eating dessert – she finished two! She looked happy. No news of Miles, but no news might be good news. Also, someone had taken the photos.

Someone was searching through her kitchen cupboards. She figured it was Oliver. Turning onto her back, she rested her plastered arm above her head. When the coffee machine growled, she sighed. The only person who knew how to use it properly had a broken arm. Holly was going to be so disappointed.

Oliver appeared in the doorway holding a coffee. He seemed reluctant to enter and leaned casually against the frame. They studied each other. A flicker of something flashed in his eyes – defiance? Disappointment? It quickly vanished.

Resting her sore arm by her side, she sat up. ‘I miss my dog.’

‘Tash and Mary walked him before school. They were up until midnight reading him bedtime stories. You’ll see him shortly. We need to get you dressed, then I’d like you to come home with me.’

‘You don’t need to look after me. Honestly, it’s weird that you’re even here.’

‘We’re friends . It’s what friends do.’

‘Why are you smiling? Are you enjoying this?’

‘No. Today, I have a job that I need to finish. I can’t look after you and fix the man’s expensive car at the same time.’

‘I don’t need looking after.’

‘You told me yourself, you can’t get dressed or put on your shoes. Besides, what are you going to do here?’ He remained fixed to the door frame, unable to enter her bedroom.

‘Read a book. Watch TV. Sleep.’

‘You can do those things at my place. Come on, up you get.’

‘You can’t make me.’

‘I have your dog.’

He entered the room, placing the coffee and two paracetamol tablets on the bedside table.

‘Blackmail.’ She yawned and pulled back the covers. ‘If I come with you, will you give me one of those magical painkillers? A whole one this time.’

‘I’ll give you half of one – tonight.’

‘More blackmail. I’m in too much pain to argue.’ She sipped her coffee and took the painkillers.

He opened her wardrobe and sorted through her clothes. ‘Why don’t you wear this?’ He tossed her cinnamon jumper on the bed. She smiled; it was his favourite. A new pair of sweatpants followed. She could get herself dressed.

On the way out the front door, he passed Quinn to her. She hugged the chicken to her chest.

Snood sat on Mia’s feet, whining and shivering with excitement, then he pulled his lips back and grinned. The dog was happy to see her. Mia dropped to her knees and hugged him. In three years, they had not spent a night apart.

‘I know,’ Mia said. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’

‘I’ve made a bed for you outside, close to the garage,’ Oliver said.

‘A bed?’

Leaving the house, they scaled the back steps and headed across the paving. A vintage car in immaculate condition was parked in the garage driveway.

‘This is some car,’ Mia said. ‘What colour would you call this?’

‘Goodwood Green.’

For no reason, she kicked the tyre. Oliver laughed.

The Parker lounge was once again on the terrace. Covered in cushions and a rug, it looked wonderfully warm and comfortable.

‘Can I have a cup of tea and toast?’ she asked.

‘You can. ’

Mia snuggled into the sofa, hugged Quinn, and pulled the rug over herself. When she patted the end of the sofa, Snood jumped up. He curled in on himself and closed his eyes. With Mia safely beside him, he could finally relax.

Oliver returned with the tea and toast, along with more painkillers. When she finished eating, she placed the plate and mug on the ground, closed her eyes and slept.

All morning, Oliver worked on the car while Mia dozed.

She slept on her back, resting her broken arm above her head.

When that became uncomfortable, she rolled onto her side and cradled the plaster cast to her chest. The reverberating hum of the car engine was comforting, and when she woke, it lulled her back to sleep.

Between naps, she watched Oliver as he worked.

He caught her once, watching him, and held her gaze.

The look he gave her was so profound, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

In her mind, she imagined him smiling at her.

Lunch was ham and salad sandwiches with hot mustard and mayonnaise on wholemeal bread, served with more painkillers.

As she sipped a lime cordial, she said, ‘I’ve never been this lazy in my entire life. Can you tell me something about this car?’

‘It belongs to a friend. It’s a 1963 Aston Martin DB5. Just like the one from James Bond.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘It has three carburettors – they all need servicing – and they must sync perfectly. Not an easy task. Takes a top mechanic and the owner is very particular about who touches this car. It’s his baby – worth about two million.’

She blinked. ‘Did you just say two million? ’

It was late afternoon when Oliver wiped his hands on a rag. The job finished, the carburettors were now running smoothly. After catching her eye, he said, ‘I’m going inside to write an invoice. Can I get you anything?’

Yawning, she shook her head and drifted back to sleep.

A short time later, when she opened her eyes, a man was standing by the car staring down at her. Familiar-looking, he was well-groomed, probably in his fifties, wearing a long camel-coloured coat made of cashmere.

Mia sat up. She tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Is this your car?’

‘It is,’ he replied.

‘Oliver won’t be long. He’s writing the invoice.’ Mia got to her feet.

The man smiled. ‘You must be Mia?’

‘Yes, I am. You know Oliver quite well, then?’ She realised why the man looked familiar. He was famous – an actor.

‘I do. If you break his heart, I’ll have you killed.’

‘Too late,’ she said. ‘You’re very direct.’

‘And you’re very lovely.’

The compliment caught in her throat. After a pause, she said, ‘I’m afraid he’s far too young for me.’

The man laughed. ‘You’ll need to come up with a better excuse than that.’

She forced a smile, but her eyes were glassy.

His expression softened. ‘Sorry,’ he said. His voice now gentle.

‘My arm hurts, that’s all. Have you ever broken a bone?’

‘Yes. Once, I fell off a horse. It was on a movie set.’

‘Then you know how much it hurts. The pain is unbearable.’

‘Are you going to marry him?’ He held her gaze .

She hesitated. ‘He hasn’t asked. You might be famous, but that doesn’t mean you can say whatever you like.’

Oliver returned with the invoice. The men shook hands.

‘We’ve introduced ourselves,’ the famous man said. ‘Swapped a few war stories. We’re old friends.’

Mia stepped closer to Oliver. She took hold of his arm. A protective gesture.

He dipped his head toward her. ‘Warm enough?’

She nodded.

Watching their interaction, the famous man said, ‘She tells me you haven’t proposed.’

Oliver laughed. He handed over the invoice. ‘I charge double for wise guys.’

Without looking at the invoice, the famous man folded the page and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. After shaking Oliver’s hand and dipping his head at Mia, he climbed into his Goodwood Green Aston Martin and drove down the driveway.

As the car turned onto the street, Mia turned to Oliver. ‘I have to talk to you.’ An urgent pitch echoed in her voice.

‘About?’

‘Us.’

Oliver chewed his lip. ‘Can it wait? I need to be at the top of my game for that conversation. There are a few other things on my mind at the moment.’

‘Really? Like what?’

‘Leo, of course. And I think Mary’s moved in. Recently, my girlfriend dumped me – she told me she wanted to be friends.’

Mia sighed. ‘Are you going to forgive me?’

‘Yes. Eventually.’

Suddenly, she realised what that meant. ‘We’re not getting back together, are we? ’

‘Are you going to run away again?’

She couldn’t answer.

‘Then, probably not.’

She let his response sink in.

‘Stay for dinner. I’ll give you wine and drugs. You’ll sleep like a kitten. We’re having schnitzel, it’s Mary’s favourite.’

‘There’s nothing like your own home when you’re not feeling your best. Can you please drive me?’