Page 8 of Forever & Again
Oliver’s smirk faltered as her words struck with unexpected weight. The room seemed to shrink around them, and a small twinge of regret settled in his chest. He had only meant to draw her out, to rekindle some of the spark he had glimpsed the firsttime they met, but the pain in her eyes told him he had gravely miscalculated. “Your wish is my command.”
Grace turned and stormed out of the room. Sarah shot Oliver a look far more threatening than he ever imagined she could muster before hurrying after Grace.
The room fell into complete silence, and Oliver stared down at his untouched plate. “That went rather well, don’t you think?”
Matthew rose from the table and gestured towards the door. “Walk with me, Ollie.” Oliver sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, wondering if he ought to have taken those whispered tales of fiery-tempered Scotsmen more seriously.
They walked in silence past the stables, the early morning air already heavy with the heat of early summer. Oliver was not a man easily made uncomfortable; years of pretending not to care what people thought of him had ensured that. But every moment that Matthew refused to speak made something beneath his skin prickle.
“I do hope this isn’t about the eggs,” Oliver finally broke the silence the only way he knew how. “I know they were overcooked, and I take full responsibility for distracting your cook this morning.”
Matthew stopped abruptly, turning to face him. “Do you ever stop talking?”
Oliver grinned, completely unfazed. “Not voluntarily.”
Matthew rubbed a hand across his jaw, his gaze narrowing as if weighing mercy against murder. Matthew Fenwick was not a man easily provoked. He had the patience of a saint and the heart to match, but even saints had limits, and Oliver had a sneaking suspicion that Matthew was dangerously close to his. “You pushed Grace too hard, Oliver.”
Oliver’s smile flickered, but it didn’t vanish completely. “You are quite protective of her.”
Matthew didn’t back down, his gaze steady and unflinching. “She is family.”
“I know.” Oliver’s voice softened. He noticed the muscle in Matthew’s jaw tick—the grief he knew had been kept so neatly in check since Grace arrived, threatened to break through.
“She lost her entire world when Benjamin died.”
Oliver lifted his chin slightly. “I know.” The words came out slow, weighed down by the truth of how well Oliver did understand Grace’s pain.
Matthew’s posture softened, “Oliver…”
Oliver braced himself, not for anger, but for something far, far worse—heartfelt sincerity.
“You have been my closest friend since we lost Ben. You kept me sane when I wanted to crawl into the ground. You taught me more about being a landowner in six months than anyone has in my entire life.”
Oliver looked away, swallowing the emotion that threatened to rise in his throat.
“You have been more loyal, generous, and constant than most men I have known. You hide it well, but I see who you really are.”
Oliver forced out a dry, brittle laugh. “Careful Fenwick, you’ll ruin my reputation.”
"Blast your reputation,” he muttered. “I care about you, not your facade.” His hand lifted, pressing a firm finger to Oliver’s chest. “But I will throw you out without a moment of hesitation if you continue to distress Grace. I am not asking for miracles, just civility.”
Oliver blinked in surprise. “You are serious?”
“I am always serious, you just never seem to notice.” They stood there for a moment, two old friends and the invisible ghost between them.
Finally, Oliver gave a short nod. “I will be civil. I will be boring. I will not flirt, provoke, or incite fury.”
“You can still speak.”
“Oh, good,” Oliver said with mock relief. “I was beginning to worry.”
Matthew cracked a faint smile as he slung his arm around Oliver’s shoulder, turning them back towards the house. “I am glad you are here, Ollie. This summer certainly won’t be boring.”
Oliver kicked a loose stone with his boot. “You always were far too decent for a world like this, Matty.”
“And you’ve always pretended not to be.”
Chapter Four
