Page 31 of Forever & Again
Grace’s lips curved, though her eyes stung. “You are my sister, Sarah Elizabeth Fenwick. Always.”
The air in the drawing room was warm and still, the faint click of Sarah’s embroidery needle punctuating the steady patter of rain against the windows. Grace sat opposite her, a book balanced on her lap, though she hadn’t turned a page in nearly ten minutes. She hadn’t read a single word; her mind wandered, as it so often did these days, to Oliver.
Her gaze flicked toward the window again, heart stirring in that familiar, infuriating way. He and Matthew hadn’t appeared since breakfast, and she hated how keenly she noticed his absence.
“Have you read a single word since you sat down?” Sarah’s voice cut through the quiet, soft but pointed. Grace blinked, lowering her eyes to the page, the ink blurring as her thoughts scattered. “I am not really in the mood.”
“That’s not like you,” Sarah said without looking up, her needle pausing mid-stitch.
Grace said nothing.
“Or perhaps you are simply distracted.”
Grace bristled. “I am fine.”
“Mmm,” Sarah murmured, the room falling silent again, save for the gentle ticking of the clock. “I am sure he is fine. You cannot drown in the rain.”
Grace looked up sharply. “What?”
Sarah didn’t meet her gaze, her eyes remained focused on her work. “Oliver. I am sure he is fine.”
“I did not ask.” Grace shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image of his infuriatingly entrancing smile.
“No,” Sarah said, arching a brow, “but your eyes have wandered to that window fourteen times in the last few minutes, so I took a guess.”
Grace pressed her lips together, her cheeks warming.
Sarah tilted her head as her expression softened. “You care about him.”
Grace’s head snapped up. “I do not.”
“Grace, it’s alright…”
“He’s a friend. Barely. And that is all.”
Sarah said nothing, letting the words hang in the air. Grace, felt the defensiveness rise in her chest. “Do you honestly think that I am looking to replace Benjamin with someone so infuriating, and believes that everything can be fixed with a well-placed smirk?”
“I do not think you are trying to replace anyone,” Sarah said softly. “But I want you to know, when you decide to open your heart again—whoever it is—I will be happy for you. All I want is for you to be happy, Grace.”
Grace nodded slowly, a slow wave of relief washing over her. She had feared how Sarah might feel, seeing her open her heart to another. But she also knew that she was not the only one holding back due to shadows of the past.
“I just want to understand him.” Grace hadn’t meant for the words to come out loud. When she glanced up to see if Sarah had heard, she caught the knowing twinkle in her eye.
“But not because you care?” She teased.
Grace’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No.” She replied, unsure if she even wanted to admit the truth to herself. “I do not care at all.”
Chapter Fifteen
The dining room at Somerton glowed with candlelight, the crystal glasses throwing fractured rainbows across the white linen tablecloth. Oliver sat two seats down from Grace and across from Matthew, doing precisely what he did best—performing.
He was mid-story about a night at Eton involving a goat, a locked library, and a bottle of brandy, and the entire table was enthralled. Every laugh, every gasp, every incredulous “Unbelievable—” fed the part of him that thrived on holding a room in the palm of his hand. But it was all hollow.
Every time he glanced at Grace, he found her watching. Not smiling, not smirking, just observing. He could feel the weight of her gaze like she was trying to see through him, and it was maddening. He took another sip of wine, willing himself to focus on the story and the laughter.
They hadn’t truly spoken since that night on the bench, when he had revealed just a little too much. And now she her radiant golden eyes were fixed on him in a way that made his chest tighten. Part of him wanted her to look away; part of him needed her not to.
Because in her gaze, he could see the version of himself he had buried long ago—the one with softness, hope, and a belief in futures—even though she had never known him.
