Page 110 of Sparking Sara

I smile thinking of my parents and their love story. They met in London and decided to come back here for their wedding. I can’t wait to see the cathedral. I know I’ve seen it before. I’ve painted it. Joelle told me I came to see it about a year after their death. But like so many other things, I don’t remember.

I turn around and Oliver spoons me, drifting quickly to sleep. I find my hand searching around the bed for Kokomo before I remember he’s not here. He’s with Denver.

I miss you,I whisper to myself, pulling a pillow tightly against my chest.

I think of the very first words I wrote in my journal eight weeks ago. And once again, I wonder who I was writing them about.

Chapter Twenty-eight

“Last stop, as promised,” Oliver says as we exit the red double-decker bus onto the steps of the ornate cathedral.

I spent the morning with Ollie’s mother and sister, who gave me a tour of Westminster, where Oliver grew up. They took me under their wings while Oliver handled some business. They’re fabulous. His whole family is. I’ve found myself completely at ease with them, and it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed being a part of something. Enid and Octavia have accepted me completely, faults and all. They didn’t look at me like I was damaged goods when they saw me limp. Or when I had a little trouble reading the history of some of the landmarks we visited. Enid treated me like a daughter. And Octavia, a sister.

Despite my lingering jet lag, today has been one of the best days I can remember. It’s obvious how much Oliver loves London. He’s said more than once he’s not sure why he ever left. And after only one day, I can see why. I’m not sure I could live here, but I’d be amenable to visiting a lot.

We walk up dozens of steps—the very steps on which my parents met—and I already feel closer to them. The church is breathtaking. Tourists are snapping pictures from every angle. Inside, a few people are sitting in pews, praying. A mother is trying to keep her rambunctious child quiet. And old man is lighting a candle.

“Come,” Oliver says, offering me his hand.

He leads me to the front of the sanctuary. We stop and stand at the altar, Oliver turning to face me almost like a groom facing his bride. “We could get married here if you want,” he says. “Just as your parents did. I’m sure they have an enormous waiting list, so it could be years away. But I just wanted to put it out there.”

I think about what he said.Years away.And somehow, hearing those words makes the thought of marrying him not so daunting.Years. I’d have years to get to know him again. And he’s willing to wait that long.

“Maybe,” I say, looking at our surroundings.

“Come again?” he whispers a little too loudly.

“I said maybe.”

“Sara, I would pick you up and twirl you around right now if I didn’t think they’d throw us out on our bums.”

“Shhh,” I scold him, like the mother who was scolding her boisterous son. “People are praying.”

He looks out at the solemn parishioners. “Maybe they need to know that prayers are sometimes answered.”

Oliver smiles at me and I feel myself flush. It’s the first time I’ve truly had this reaction around him.

Coming here was a good thing. Getting away from New York may have been just what I needed to get back to normal. Or start my new normal.

“Your mom asked me if we were planning on having children,” I say.

He raises a brow. “And what did you tell her?”

I shift uncomfortably. Standing at the front of a church is probably not where we should be having this conversation.

“I said I couldn’t remember and that we hadn’t discussed it yet. She told me she thought I’d make a great mother.”

“Did she now?” he says with a grin.

He looks over at the mother and child, studying them. “I think my mum is right, you’d make a great mother, Sara. But I’m not sure I’m ready to be a dad, luv. I think I could be. In time. The concept of children is all very new to me. I think you’d have to be patient with me.”

“Like you’ve been patient with me,” I say, smiling up at him.

He tucks my hair behind my ears. “Anything for you.”

I look up at him, thinking of everything he’s done for me today. Everything he’s done for me over the past few months. He’s not asked anything of me. Not one time. Other than a few bumps when I first arrived home, he’s been the perfect man. I often ask myself how a man can be so patient and understanding.

“I think I’m ready to take the next step, Ollie.”

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