Page 106 of The Two Halves of My Heart

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 clasped 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.

---