Page 39 of Forever & Again
For one wild moment, she thought he might close the space between them entirely. But in one swift breath, he straightened, his expression perfectly composed.
Without another word, Oliver turned and walked away, leaving Grace alone with her pounding heart and thoughts tangled tightly around the memory of a white handkerchief.
Oliver was still reeling from his conversation with Grace in the corridor. Somehow, he had managed to walk away from her, even when everything in him screamed to reach for her.
He hadn’t been able to draw a full breath since he had left her. He needed fresh air, movement, anything to steady the storm churning beneath his ribs.
Cutting through the edge of the rose garden, his boots crunched along the gravel path. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, as if that might somehow keep him from clinging to the memory of Grace’s voice.
“Oliver!”
Oliver turned to see Sarah making her way toward him. She was remarkably swift for someone who was hiding, what by now had to be, a rapidly growing child beneath those layers of skirts. She slowed as she reached him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Ollie,” she said casually.
Oliver raised a brow. “You may call me Ollie the day I can call you Lizzy,”
Sarah laughed as she fell into step beside him. “Fair enough.” They walked in silence for a moment before she spoke, the teasing tone in her voice unmistakable. “Grace called you Ollie this morning.”
“I noticed.”
“She has never called you that before.”
His jaw twitched. His memories were flooded with the warmth of brandy and the soft whisper of her voice as the name fell from her lips.
He managed to keep his tone even. “It must have been a moment of madness.”
Sarah cast him a look but did not push the matter. “I do not want to assume anything,” she said carefully, “but you and Grace—”
“There is no me and Grace,” he cut in, sharper than intended. The silence stretched between them for a few steps, but he could feel her gaze on him. Sarah knew both him and Grace too well to believe that there was nothing stirring between them.
“Not officially,” he corrected with a sigh.
They passed the edge of the hedgerow where the path bent toward the orchard, the wind carrying the sweet mingling of blossoms and earth.
“Should there be?” Sarah asked softly.
Oliver kept his eyes fixed on the dirt path in front of them. His chest ached with the relentless beat of his heart every time his thoughts strayed to Grace. His head throbbed from the effort of steering his mind elsewhere, though she occupied his every waking moment.
He didn’t know exactly when she had taken up full residence in his heart and mind, but there was no denying that she had,and that she was there to stay. And though Oliver knew that he would never let her go, he also knew that didn’t mean either of their hearts were safe.
“She is still grieving,” he muttered, kicking a stone along the path.
“And you are not?”
Oliver finally managed to meet Sarah’s gaze, her eyes full of the same patient understanding that her husband possessed. “Sarah, you of all people know that I carry ghosts.”
Sarah did not reply, but simply waited for him to continue.
“I care for her.” That was a lie. Oliver did notcarefor Grace—he was utterly, irrevocably, and stupidly in love with her. “But I will not pursue her. Not unless she chooses to cross that line.” He had already pushed too far in the hall and revealed too much.
“Because of what she lost?” Sarah pressed.
“Because I know what it feels like to love so deeply that the world disappears, and to wake up and suddenly find it is gone.” His voice caught. “I will not ask her to love me in pieces, or to give me what still belongs to Benjamin.”
Sarah touched his arm lightly, compassion flickering in her eyes. She studied him for a moment before her eyes narrowed. “Did something happen during the dinner party?”
Oliver offered her a quick smile. “We debated the quality of Matthew’s brandy.”
Sarah arched a brow in disbelief. “And that is all?”
