The Two Halves of my Heart: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance
Page 27
Nerves fought in my stomach and turned the excitement sour as the time continued to pass without any sign of Oliver. I looked out at the fields in front of me, and I was assaulted by so many memories, memories of fun and delight and childhood innocence. They were so precious, just like this spot. It was a part of our past, and it felt right to talk about our possible future here as well.
The soft crunch of footsteps on the dusty path jogged me from my reverie, and I turned to see Oliver.
Dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, his dark hair now longer on top, was swept back from his face. I took a deep inhale of air, suddenly feeling like everything would be okay merely from setting eyes on him. He reminded me of home—not a place, but a feeling, and one that I’d missed fiercely.
“Hi,” I called out.
“Hi,” he responded as he closed the distance between us.
“I’m sorry –”
He cut me off as he rushed towards me and crashed his lips to mine. His arms surrounded and pulled me against his chest. He stole my breath, but that didn’t stop my response. I was thrown back to our stolen kiss all those years ago, but this wasn’t a goodbye. As his tongue slipped against mine, I felt the purpose and possession he’d pledged in his kiss.
My hands ran up to the base of his neck, and my fingers worked through his hair, exploring in a way I’d never allowed myself before. Our kiss rolled on as we both enjoyed the push and pull of our lips against each other as my heart beat wildly in my chest.
Oliver finally paused, slowing the tempo and placing soft kisses across my lips and cheeks, working his way up to my eyes and finally my forehead. It was as if he was checking I was still real, and it filled me with a glow of happiness.
“I didn’t know if I was too late. I’m sorry I made you wait, but I couldn’t see a way through anything back then.” I spluttered the words, still giddy from our kiss.
“I’d wait for you forever, Grace. You once told me you couldn’t fathom a world where I wasn’t in it. Well, that’s the same for me.”
I stepped back from him, and our fingers tangled together between us.
“I’m just so relieved that you’re back in mine now.”
“So, you think we can have a go at being friends again?” I looked up at him, hoping that wasn’t just a figment of my imagination I’d conjured after dwelling on the happy memories of our past.
“No.” His reply stunned me, and the blood pulsed around my body, suddenly turning to ice.
“I don’t understand?”
“We can’t be friends. At least we can’t only be friends. I walked away from you before, thinking it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t, and I will never make that same mistake again. So, I’m all in. I love you, Grace Shaw. I’ve loved you for a very long time and yet I’ve never been able to show you just how much.”
My heart gave a gentle squeeze at his declaration. I hadn’t expected this, although I knew Oliver was one for grand gestures. My expectations had been much lower.
“Would you hate me if I asked you if we can take things slowly? My heart is still a little bruised.”
“As long as we’re together, we can take it as slowly as you like. Just stop pushing me away.”
“I promise.” I stared into his hazel eyes and gave him my word. “And just so you know, I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Grace 28 Years Old
“Why are we here?” I placed the blanket down on the patchy grass under the shade of our tree.
“It’s your birthday.”
“I know it’s my birthday.” I frowned at Oliver and his less-than-helpful answer.
“I want to give you your present.” Oliver smiled at me as if he was holding the biggest secret behind his lips.
“Oh, what is it?” I crawled over to where the picnic hamper rested, hoping there was a wrapped gift, but I only glimpsed a cake. Oliver snatched it away and came to join me. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree and looked out at the view of the countryside.
“You’re looking at it.”
“The cake? Did you bake it? Please tell me it’s your mother’s. I love you, but her cakes are the best.”
Vivien had resumed making me one for my birthday every year after Oliver and I had found our way back to one another. We’d always celebrated, as a family, and it seemed to ease something in all of us.
“It’s not the cake, but that is my mum’s. She’s got a big one back at the house for later, too.” I gave him an eager smile and curled up and rested my head on his chest. “We’re sitting on it.”
“Sitting on what?”
“Your gift,” he whispered in my hair as his lips kissed my head.
“Okay, please just spell it out.” I didn’t have the brain capacity to work out his riddle today. It was a rare day off during the week, where we were both back home.
Oliver’s job was in London, and mine was here. I’d tried to get a new job in London with a different publisher, but there wasn’t much going on. So, we’d spent our first year together only seeing each other at weekends.
Luckily, my company had offices in London, and after putting in the work, I was promoted to Assistant Editor and split my time between the two. After all, I could do the work anywhere. My boss, Mandy, agreed to three days in London, which I knew was a compromise, but I’d fought for it. Oliver and I wanted to be together—we had already made so many sacrifices.
So, now, I was only back with Mum a couple of nights a week. London didn’t feel like home, though. Not yet.
Travelling the two and a half hours on the train gave me plenty of time to read and catch up on any edits, but it would have been nice not to go back and forth all the time. So, we were saving for a place of our own. But London didn’t come cheap.
Oliver’s job was going really well, but the type of firms that paid enough for us to stay in London were all based in the city. Another year, and we hoped to have saved for that magical deposit all the banks wanted. All our hard work would pay off, in the form of a tiny apartment, but it would be something to call ours. And that was the goal we both had our hearts set on.
“The field. Or, our field now.”
“Sorry, what? How?” I sat up and took a look around at the place we’d been coming to since we were children. I’d already thought of this place as ours. We’d been spending every birthday here since we came back to each other—a homage to our time spent as children playing in the tree and running through fields. It was a magical time, and we both felt the pull to that. I’d learned to reminisce without the memories overtaking my present. We both had.
“The farmer put it on the market a few months back, with planning permission already in place for a dwelling. I’ve spoken with Mum and Dad, and they’ll be helping us out, but we’ll repurchase the house from them when it’s finished. So, all we need is a builder.”
“But, wait…” I stopped myself from throwing my arms around his neck as my mind tripped over all the practical problems in our way. “Your job, my job. We can’t just up and leave?”
“We can. I’ve already cleared it with work. I’m moving into a new team, which will mean I can work from two satellite offices. It will mean some daily travel, but this will be our home. And let’s face it, Mandy would have you back here in a heartbeat.” He sat up and took my hand. “Our history is here. Our beginning is here, and it’s just as important as our future. I want to build on that, in our case, literally. We’ve both said London doesn’t feel like home, yet. What if it never does?”
“I don’t know what to say?” I stared out at the fields, tree-lined hedges, and open space in front of us. The shade from the oak tree cast shadows on the blanket, and I was struck by images of our children playing as we did—with Maddison—as children ourselves.
Tears stung my eyes as a rush of emotion overtook me. It was the perfect future for us. I’d just never imagined it.
“I hope those are happy tears?” Oliver brushed one away with the pad of his thumb, and I clasp
ed his hand to my cheek.
When I was younger, I used to think that Maddison made me brave, and Oliver made me safe. As I grew, that never changed. And still, all these years later, Oliver was still proving that point to me.
“Yes, of course. It’s just a lot to take in.” His brows wrinkled a little, and he dropped his hand. I knew that I’d ruined his big gesture by being so caught up in it.
He’d always been good at the big statements.
A tiny spark of an idea came to life, and a thrill ran through my body. There was one thing I could do to rival him. And kneeling under our tree, in our field was the perfect place to do it.
“You’ve always got to make all the big romantic gestures,” I teased.
“Well, in my defence, I’ve always loved you, and you more than deserve every single romantic gesture I can conceive.”
“Okay.” I lifted my arms to wrap around his neck. “But I think I want to get this one in for myself. Oliver Ray.” I took his hand in mine. “Will you marry me?”
It was his turn to wear the stunned expression, and I instantly knew I’d done the right thing.
My heart galloped in my chest with excitement. A few days ago, I’d been travelling back to London, feeling weary and swamped with work, and now, I was standing on our own piece of land, asking the boy I’d loved since I was a girl to marry me.
All I needed to make this perfect was Oliver to say yes.
“Well?” I prompted, with the biggest smile on my face.
“Yes. A hundred times, yes. But don’t think you’ll escape my proposal. I know why you’ve done this, and I love it. Nothing would make me happier than to be your husband, and be by your side—protecting you, and making you happy—for now, and the rest of my life.”
My eyes misted with tears again at his words. Because I knew how much he meant them. And I couldn’t wait to find the courage that Maddison had first given me and be brave for the both of us, for the rest of my life.
The End
Blush
A Strangers to Lovers Romance
A standalone spin-off from The Two Halves of my Heart.
Leo Walker's story is coming... and he'll make you Blush!
Also By Rachel De Lune
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More Than Desire
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The Break
New Tides
The Two Halves of my Heart
Blush
The Cane Series
Innocent Eyes
Devious Eyes
Vengeful Eyes
Forbidden Eyes
Tortured Eyes
About Rachel De Lune
Rachel De Lune writes emotionally driven contemporary and erotic romance.
She began scribbling her stories in the pages of a notebook several years ago, and still can’t resist putting pen to real paper. What ifs are turned into heartfelt stories of love where there will always be a HEA.
Rachel lives in the South West of England and daydreams about shoes with red soles, lingerie and chocolate. If she’s not writing HEAs, she’s probably reading them. She is a wife and has a beautiful daughter.
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