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“See you in the morning,” Wolf added with a wink, then he took Abby’s hand and they disappeared around the corner of the house.
“They did all of this for us?” Mia still couldn’t quite believe it.
“Jane cooked,” Ollie said, “and chose the champers. But yes, they did.”
Mia read the label on the bottle and her eyes shot wide. It was actual, proper French Champagne.Fuck. It was a fair shot better than the Passion Pop they’d shared as teenagers. Her hand shook as she reached for her glass, but before she could pick it up, Ollie took her hand in his, wrapped his thick fingers around her smaller ones.
“Is it too much?” he asked, his expression one of worry as his gaze searched hers.
Heat and moisture filled her eyes and she sniffed back the prickle of tears before they could embarrass her further. “No, it’s not too much.”
“Then what’s wrong? Have you changed your mind? Do you want to go back to the house?”
“No, nothing like that,” she hurried to assure him. “It’s just that I’d forgotten.” She looked around them again, took in the romantic setting of the candles and the soft evening sky and the fantastic food. The amazing company. “I’d forgotten what it’s like to be home, to be surrounded by people who care.” She shook her head. “I don’t deserve it. Not after what I did.”
Ollie’s features softened and he gave her a look she hadn’t seen in a long, long time. His “you’re adorable but you’re an idiot” look.
“Life’s too short to hold grudges,” he said softly. “Especially between best friends. More especially for shit we did when we were seventeen.”
Mia cleared her throat in a vain attempt to dislodge the emotions choking her up. She shifted in her chair. “Even so, I owe you an apology. I never should have left the way I did, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I never wanted that.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Frowning, she said, “What do you have to be sorry for?”
“For not hopping on the next bus to Canberra and hunting your stubborn arse down.”
Mia slapped her free hand over her mouth but wasn’t quick enough to stop the burst of laughter from escaping her, and the tension she’d been holding on to slipped away. “I was pretty stubborn, wasn’t I?”
Ollie chuckled, too. “We both were,” he said, then squeezed her fingers. “I also wanted to apologise for not being here for Louisa’s funeral. For not being here for you.”
Mia shook her head. “It’s fine, Ollie. Really.”
“No, it’s not fine. You needed me and I wasn’t here.”
“Where were you?” she asked. “I remember Abby saying you were somewhere in Europe.”
“Yes, at a blacksmithing festival in the Ukraine. My sister called but I didn’t get the message until it was too late. By the time I got back to Australia the funeral was over and you were gone again. I tried reaching out to you through your office, but you never replied.”
“Really?”
“Really, really.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head, her mouth pinched in annoyance. “Motherfuckers.”
“What?”
Her shoulders stiffened, her eyes narrowed. “No one gave me the message,” she said through gritted teeth.
Ollie shook his head. “For fuck’s sake, are you kidding me?”
“I wish I was,” she said, snapping open her napkin and laying it in her lap. “It was a standard tactic for the unit I was in at the time. Make me look stupid or ignorant or uncaring by not passing along pertinent information.” She shook her head. “Boy club bullshit. Arseholes.”
Oliver’s gaze narrowed. “Are these the same arseholes who caused your habit of taking a swing at someone when you’re startled?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No. That trait was ingrained in me during basic training. There was this one sergeant…. He used to wake us up by grabbing our tits.”
“Jesus. Mia….” Ollie looked furious.
