by Annie O'Neil
Lia managed to share a smile with Oliver at this. The one thing she’d been craving since she fell pregnant was chocolate cake.
Throughout the ride, the flight, and the second taxi ride to Grace’s daughter’s house, Lia and Oliver were mostly silent. But the angry tension from their fight had softened—largely thanks to Élodie, who could wrap Oliver round her little finger like a soft piece of ribbon. Which, of course, made Lia love him that little bit more.
When they got to the house they both stayed on the porch, saying they needed a minute before coming in.
‘I just have to make a quick call,’ they said at the same time.
Their nervous laughs twined together.
‘I need to call my father,’ she said, at the same time as he told her he needed to call his parents.
‘To call things off?’ she dared to ask.
Grace shooed Élodie inside before Oliver could answer.
‘To clear the air,’ Oliver said once they were alone.
Which was interesting. Why would he need to clear the air with his parents?
‘Should we maybe do that first? Clear the air?’ she asked, hoping he wanted to salvage things as much as she did. ‘Before we call home?’
He tipped his head to the side, his eyes glued to her as if he was trying to see her from a different angle. She prayed with every fibre in her being that he saw the hope in her heart.
‘Good idea,’ he said.
And just like that she could breathe again.
As if by spoken agreement they went in and joined Grace’s family, each of them needing just a bit more time to collect their thoughts before they had that talk. The one that would decide their future.
Once the little girls had been sorted out with some games, Grace, Lia and Oliver sat on the patio, enjoying the shade over the picnic table as Grace’s daughter brought out an enormous chocolate cake.
‘Chocolate’s supposed to help you fall in love—but I guess you two don’t need the extra boost, do you?’ Melody smiled at Lia, putting the cake down in front of her.
Lia tried and failed to fight the sting of tears at the back of her throat.
‘Oh! Did I say the wrong thing?’ Melody’s eyes shot to her mother. Grace shook her head.
Oliver cleared his throat and took a long drink of iced tea.
Poor Melody obviously had no idea what was going on, but she innately knew that making a fuss would be a bad idea.
Grace rose and said, ‘Melody? I wonder if you wouldn’t mind helping me rustle up a few sandwiches for the little ones.’
Lia shot her a grateful smile. She was giving Oliver and Lia some much-needed alone time.
Melody began to head to the kitchen. ‘I’m not sure we have any bread...’
‘Well, then...’ Grace looked positively thrilled by this news. ‘I don’t think these two will mind if we pop to the store, do you?’ She gave Oliver a look. ‘If you hear screaming, would you mind looking in on the children?’
Laughing, Melody rolled her eyes. ‘We’ll take them with us.’ She gave her mother a tight, fierce hug. ‘I know it’s only been forty-eight hours, but it’s good to have my best friend back.’
‘Your mother, you mean,’ Lia corrected, without thinking.
‘No...’ Melody shook her head. ‘She’s my mama, but more than that she’s my bestie.’ She gave her mother a little hip-bump and the two of them shared a complicit cackle, then started rounding up the children.
A deep longing Lia had never acknowledged opened in her chest. A painful, agonising hunger she’d tried to hide for almost her entire life. The hunger for the love and friendship of her mother.
The tears she’d been trying to keep at bay finally began to fall.
Oliver pulled out a fresh handkerchief and handed it to her, then nudged a slice of cake in front of her. ‘You know they say a problem shared is a problem halved...’
She let the invitation sit between them, and after a moment’s hesitation said, ‘Even if we’re not getting married any more?’
Oliver drew in a sharp breath, then said, ‘Let’s not worry about the wedding right now. What’s important is that we understand each other.’
‘Well... I guess what we need to talk about is the fact you called off the wedding.’
He held up a hand. ‘I did that because it seemed like the last thing on earth you wanted. And I don’t want it if you don’t want it.’
The way he said it opened up a warm ray of sunshine in her heart. ‘So...you still want to marry me?’
He took the ring out of his shirt pocket and put it on the table between them. ‘Why don’t we have a good long talk and see what we come up with.’
So Lia began to talk. And talk and talk and talk. With an openness and candour she’d never allowed herself before.
She told Oliver about her childhood. Her parents’ acrimonious divorce. Her mother’s exile when the royal council had insisted Lia and her father move back into the palace to ‘keep things in order’ once the divorce had been finalised. Her father’s emotional withdrawal. Boarding school. Her lack of friends. The pleasure she’d found working in medicine. How it had doubled when she’d begun to do it at The Island Clinic in St Victoria.
‘And then I met you.’
Their gazes caught and held, the magic of that night returning with a strength she wouldn’t have thought possible.
‘And you fell pregnant.’
Lia nodded. ‘And the palace said we had to get married.’
‘And that made you unhappy?’ Oliver asked.
It was a loaded question and they both knew it.
‘It frightened me.’
‘Why?
Again the sting of tears struck, hard and fast. ‘I don’t want what happened to my parents to happen to us.’
There. She’d said it. And the world hadn’t ended. Oliver hadn’t fled for the hills. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was leaning in, taking her hands in his, a sweet, gorgeous, earnest expression on his face.
‘We won’t let it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because we love each other.’
She blinked away a few tears. ‘You’ve never said that.’
He grimaced. ‘I know. I should have. I did. I do. I just...’ He took a steadying breath. ‘I let what happened in the past fine-tune my focus on the baby. Our baby. It blinded me to the fact that I was falling in love with you. When you left the hotel room today I suddenly realised just how big a part of my life you’ve become. Obviously I can’t wait to meet our baby, but every single moment I think about having is with you. Without you...’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t want a life without you. We’re the ones who are giving this child life and I want us to raise it together—as a family. Bring it on trips to Disney World—every year if you want. Or we can lock the rest of the world out and have it be just the three of us, tucked away in the treehouse. Or even living in separate houses—’
‘No.’ She shook her head, laughing now. ‘Not separate houses.’ She put her hand on his heart, gratified to feel it pounding as quickly as her own. ‘I think I was scared to admit it too. That I loved you. And even now that I know I do, it feels like giving up part of myself. My control.’
He nodded. ‘Given your past, I’m not surprised. It seems as if everyone you’ve let yourself love has disappointed you in some way. I don’t want to be one of those people.’
She touched his cheek, speechless. It felt as if they were practically exchanging vows here and now.
She picked the ring up from the table and held it between them. ‘What if I were to put this on again and promise never to take it off?’
* * *
Relief flooded Oliver’s chest. Lia still wanted to marry him. ‘You’d be making me a very happy man.’
Lia handed him the ring and, as if they were
at the ceremony itself, he slipped it onto her finger.
‘Feel good?’ he asked.
‘It feels perfect.’ She looked across at him. ‘You know, I’ve done a lot of pouring my heart out...are there any problems you’d like halved?’
He laughed, his fingers toying with the ring on Lia’s finger. ‘You don’t want the wedding at the palace, do you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. I want it here on St Victoria. On a date we want, with guests we want and the food we want. Chocolate cake, obviously. On the beach.’ Quickly she added, ‘If that’s what you want?’
‘It sounds perfect.’ He dropped a kiss onto the back of her hand. ‘Especially if we throw in a midnight swim after the guests have gone.’
She grinned, but her smile faded as, once again, reality surfaced. ‘I don’t quite know how we’re going to derail all the palace plans...’
‘I have an idea,’ Oliver said. ‘Rather than make phone calls, why don’t we get on planes? To Europe? You and I still have loads to talk about, and by the time we land in England I think we’ll have a pretty good game plan.’
‘For what?’ Lia gave him a sidelong glance.
‘For letting our parents know we’re our own people now. That we love them, we respect them, but that our futures are precisely that. Ours.’
* * *
Three days later, Lia felt as if she had literally entered another world. A world preserved in time every bit as much as her own childhood had been.
‘Ready?’ Oliver asked, giving her hand a squeeze.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ she said, lifting a pair of crossed fingers, which Oliver kissed for extra luck.
Huge stone lions stood atop enormous granite pillars at the top of an avenue of trees that had clearly seen generations of Bainbridges make their way to the family seat.
Summer was in its full glory in England, and the Bainbridges’ estate was no different.
‘I see Mother’s made sure the flowers are all in full bloom for you.’
Lia gave him a funny look, because she hadn’t seen anything, and then, as they passed down the final length of the tree-lined avenue she gasped in delight. In front of them was an enormous country house...palace? Whatever it was, it was impressive. A sprawl of windows and climbing roses and balconies and turrets was buttressed by immaculately manicured gardens. There was a huge lake off to one side, along with another smaller but far from small house. And beyond that another.
‘The Dowager Duchess’s house. Currently empty,’ Oliver explained. ‘And those are the stables, off to the left. Mostly empty too, I suppose, apart from my parents’ horses.’
‘And you’re sure about your idea? The one you want to put to your parents?’ she asked.
‘Look at the place,’ he said, steering the car with a practised hand into the large circular drive. ‘It’s enormous. No amount of children we have could ever fill it.’
‘Good point.’ She laughed, her nerves getting the better of her.
His parents’ place—Oliver’s birthright—was every bit as grand as the palace she’d grown up in. She leant forward, trying to absorb the splendour of it all, then suddenly, thinking of their lives back in St Victoria, started properly giggling.
‘What?’
‘You grew up in a stately home and now you live in a treehouse!’ She hooted.
Oliver feigned deep hurt. ‘I thought you liked my treehouse!’
‘I love it more than ever,’ she said, meaning it. ‘You do realise you grew up in a costume drama, right?’
Oliver laughed. ‘It was a drama, all right.’ He sighed, his shoulders slumping. ‘Cold War more like.’
Amelia turned in her seat to face him. ‘Oli... Are you okay? You don’t have to do this, you know.’
‘I do,’ he assured her, giving her a quick smile before pulling the car up in front of the house. ‘Besides, I’ve got my superpower now.’
‘What superpower is that?’ Lia asked, thinking of the multitude he already possessed.
‘You.’
It took the arrival of a butler to stop the kissing that ensued. Holding hands, red-faced and still giggling, Lia and Oliver went up the grand entrance steps to meet his parents.
* * *
An hour later Oliver wondered who had kidnapped his parents and replaced them with the kind, interested couple sitting before him.
Gone were the icy exteriors, the uncomfortable handshakes and awkward chit-chat about the weather. In their place were welcoming greetings, enthusiastic storytelling—mostly embarrassing stories from Oliver’s childhood—and a warmth he’d never once experienced in their company.
They were sitting underneath a loggia draped in frothy purple and white wisteria blossoms, eating a rather impressive afternoon tea. The nerves that had been jack-knifing round Oliver’s ribcage reached critical mass. It was now or never time.
He felt the weight of his parents’ eyes shifting to him. His mother’s. His father’s. His bewitching bride-to-be’s. He drew his strength from her—and her nod of encouragement.
After he’d explained his idea to his parents, he sat back in his chair. ‘If you’d like some time to think about it, please do.’
His parents looked at one another, silently exchanging information, and then, as one, gave each other a nod of understanding.
In that instant Oliver understood a thousand things about them that he’d never understood before. They loved one another. Very deeply. They just loved one another in their own way. Now that he was grown, and the stress of parenting had been taken out of their hands, they were able to relax into the lives they had wanted to live all along. Whereas he loved interacting with children, they loved interacting with adults. They loved old—he loved whimsical.
They loved him. They simply hadn’t known how to love him as a child.
That revelation cleared the way for an entirely new relationship with them. He swallowed, his heart lodging in his throat. A relationship he might have just compromised with his proposal.
‘We love it,’ his father said. ‘There will be the particulars to organise, of course. One doesn’t simply snap one’s fingers to change a house like this into an activity centre for underprivileged children, but...yes... I like it.’ He turned to Lia. ‘The old place has done its time serving the country before, you know.’
‘Oh...?’
‘During World War I. I hadn’t even been born then, but I’ve seen the pictures. My father, and his father before him, cleared every room in the place and turned it into a hospital for returning soldiers. Wretched business they’d been through, poor chaps.’ He stopped and gave his chin a thoughtful rub, turned to Oliver. ‘These young ones you’re proposing to move in...do you suppose they’d mind a couple of oldies knocking around the place? The estate, I mean?’
‘Absolutely not! I didn’t mean it needed to become an activity centre straight away. This is your home. You do with it exactly what you want, as long as you want to.’
Oliver gave himself an invisible thump on the head and went on to explain that he’d meant in a few years’ time. He and Lia were perfectly happy in St Victoria, and didn’t plan on moving back to the UK even when the estate was transformed into an activity centre for underprivileged children. They’d come back, of course. Frequently. But...
‘I love you both,’ he said. ‘But this is how we see ourselves being involved in the estate in the future. I can’t do what you did—uphold all those traditions. I’ll try my very best to honour them, but we want to live our lives differently. We don’t want the wedding in Karolinska. We don’t want to live on a huge estate. We’re doctors, and in a few months we’ll be parents. That’s where we want our focus to be.’
‘Oliver.’
His mother gave him a look he remembered all too well from his childhood. The Children should be seen and not heard look.
He nodded for her to go ahead, grateful for the warmth of Lia’s touch as she reached out to take one of his hands in hers. They shared a smile, and any nerves he’d felt slipped away. She loved his idea about the activity centre and had said she’d do everything in her power to support him. Holding his hand in plain view of his mother’s stern gaze was all the proof he needed that she meant it.
‘Oliver,’ his mother repeated. ‘Your father and I only live in a few of the rooms here, and we have actually been eyeing up the Dowager’s house as alternative accommodation. We needed a bit of a push to get that particular ball rolling and you have now done it. If you would like to turn the estate into this activity place next week, you may...’
She paused and cleared her throat a couple of times, then paused again to clear what Oliver suddenly realised was an unexpected rush of emotion.
She looked at him with her clear blue eyes and said, ‘Your father and I would be very pleased...very proud...if you were to go ahead with your plans whenever you like. In fact...’ She looked at her husband. ‘Why wait? From this very moment it’s yours. Consider it an early wedding gift.’
Lia choked on her tea. ‘What?’
‘Brilliant idea. Wonderful. Yes. The estate is yours.’ Oliver’s father gave his wife’s hand a pat as he spoke, his eyes shifting from Lia to Oliver. ‘We didn’t give you much of a childhood, son, but we are very, very proud of the man you’ve become. And if turning this old echoey lump of stone into a house full of children properly enjoying themselves means we’ll get to see more of you, the least we can do is start the ball rolling immediately.’
Too choked up to speak, Oliver rose—and for the first time in his life hugged his father.
