Page 70 of Versions Of Us

But the standoffish vibes she’s been throwing my way tell me I’m going to have to be patient. She’s only been here since last night and so far, the only things I’ve gotten to learn about her is that she likes pepperoni pizza and watching Outer Banks on Netflix.

Still, I’m hopeful that if I let her be for a few days I can start to chip away at her bit by bit. It’s only fair that I should know at least a few things about this stranger I’ve allowed into my home.

That’s if she ever resurfaces from the spare bedroom. I’ve been patiently waiting in the living room, pretending to read the giant textbook on cognitive psychology that’s been spread across my lap for the past hour waiting for her to wake up.

Another ten minutes pass before she finally emerges, dressed in a pair of denim cut-offs and a crochet tank top. She eyes me warily, sidestepping around the couch and into the kitchen.

“Is everything okay?” I ask. She throws me a dubious look. “With the room, I mean.”

“Oh,” she says. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

That bedroom has water views and an actual dresser she can put her things in. Compared to Henley’s loft, it’s a castle. But if ‘it’s fine’ is all she’s willing to say, then I’ll take it.

My apartment is basically one large room consisting of the kitchen, living and dining with two bedrooms coming off it. It’s pretty self-explanatory, but that doesn’t stop me from getting up and wandering around, pointing everything out like some sort of robotic idiot.

“Well, this is the dining area. I normally just eat breakfast here and eat dinner on the couch over there. And the fridge is right there. Help yourself to the coffee machine.” I point to the small Nespresso machine Mum bought me for my birthday a couple of years ago.

Mackenzie doesn’t say anything. Just surveys the room with caution and eyes me awkwardly.

I realise I’m trying too hard to please right now. I need to reel it in a little, so I decide to lay down some ground rules. “I don’t mind if you stay here but I’d like it if you helped me out with groceries.”

“Okay.” Her face falls and I slap my forehead comically remembering she doesn’t have a job.

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I forgot that you’re not working yet. Do you have any money with you at all?”

“Not a lot,” she admits. “Henley has been helping me out, but I feel bad to ask him for anything else.”

“Henley has been supporting you all this time?” I ask.

“Since we got here. Yeah.” Her gaze wanders over to the far window where a hint of blue ocean can be seen peeking above the buildings further down on the esplanade.

I don’t know why my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I’d managed to put enough facts together to know that Henley has been helping Mackenzie considerably where finances are concerned. He’d bought her a new phone after all. It doesn’t take a genius to know that wherever this girl may have sprung from, she didn’t bring a truck ton of money with her. She’s barely scraped together enough items of clothing to accommodate each season.

Henleyisa good guy.

I might not know everything about him anymore, but I do know that to be true. I know without a doubt that he would help anyone in need. But the level of responsibility it takes to care for another human being? That sort of has me stumped. It’s not that I’ve never believed him capable of it. I’ve always had faith in him. But I have to admit I’m suspicious of the reasons behind it.

This girl obviously holds a special place in his heart, but why?

“I can cover groceries for now,” I tell her. I’m not even sure how long Mackenzie will be staying with me, but I think at least a few weeks is a fair assumption. “Mackenzie, I don’t mean to pry. But what exactly are your plans for the future?”

She stares at me long and hard, her face a mixture of anxiety and anger. It’s obvious she doesn’t have an answer to my question.

I really didn’t think this through. Maybe I’m going about this all wrong. Maybe Henley is better equipped to take in strays than me after all.

A brisk knock on the door startles us both and saves her from my unintentional interrogation. I’m perplexed as I wasn’t expecting anyone today. When I pull open the door my mother practically flies through it.

“Mum!” I stagger backwards, stunned.

“Hey, baby,” she says, throwing her arms around me.

The first thing I notice is the sweat band stretched around her forehead. The next is the black and aqua activewear set that adorns her curvy frame. Mackenzie watches on in astonishment, no doubt perturbed by this outgoing, flamboyant woman that’s crashed our serious conversation.

“Mum, what are you doing here?” I ask, my eyes wide. I haven’t even had a chance to tell her about my new roommate.

“I was in the neighbourhood,” she says breathlessly.

“You were?” I ask.

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