Asking Kate (Oxford Romance #14)

Chapter 1

“I want.” Olivia paused. “That is, it’s possible,” she clarified for accuracy, before taking a deep breath. “I want to get married.”

She stood in the middle of the Covered Market, astonished at herself. Her stomach fluttered in somersaults, because this was something they’d tacitly agreed not to raise.

She swallowed and looked Zoe in the eye, difficult to avoid with her face a few centimetres away. Zoe stared back at her, incredulous too. Beautiful brown eyes wide, soft black hair poking from beneath a white cotton hat, waiting for Olivia to say more.

Then Zoe's head wobbled, a tiny string of drool descended into Olivia’s cleavage, and the moment moved on for Zoe, who gazed up at the enormous lantern in the rafters.

Well, what could you expect from a baby. And announcing to a 5-month-old that she wanted to marry Kate was less than ideal.

Olivia put her arm around the baby’s bum in the front carrier strapped to her chest, more for her own comfort than Zoe’s, then pulled her smart black woollen coat over them both in case Zoe was cold this early-December day.

What was she doing? What was she thinking?

It had come out of the blue this morning. They were on a mini adventure, avoiding a baby group that best-friend Charlotte had suggested. The class with clapping and a cacophony of instruments shaken by toddlers had made Zoe cry last time, and Olivia wasn’t that far from tears either.

Kate, lovely Kate, had reassured her there wasn’t one way to be a mother, or a baby. And they’d do different activities with their daughter too. Feeling supported, Olivia had wandered around a festive Oxford instead, more suitable for their sensory sensibilities.

Olivia pointed out everything, in that way that babies liked, her voice a constant reassurance for Zoe.

“Look at the enormous redwood tree,” as they passed the Natural History Museum.

“And the neo-Gothic architecture of Keble College.”

Zoe dutifully looked up.

“Ooo, red apples,” on the fruit stall, as they entered the Covered Market, and Zoe’s eyes grew large at the bright spheres of fruit.

The man on the stall passed Zoe one, insisting they take it for free.

You often saw people at their best with babies, she conceded, which was a pleasant contrast to her three days in the office – as Olivia Sachdeva, sought-after divorce lawyer to high-value clients – where she often saw people at their worst.

She rinsed and wiped the apple and passed Zoe the fruit, which she held between two small hands, but mainly the phenomenal suction power of her mouth.

She had no teeth to even break the skin of the apple yet, but Kate said Zoe's interest in bright fruit might be a sign she’d be ready for weaning in a couple of weeks.

That and how Zoe stared at everyone's mouth at dinnertime.

Olivia had wandered the narrow avenue further into the market, with glowing Christmas lights overhead and the scent of pine in the air.

She hummed the Carol of the Bells as she walked.

When they stepped into the small square in front of the bookshop, empty in the early morning, she swayed as she hummed, then swirled around in a one, two, three, almost a waltz with Zoe in the carrier.

Her baby smiled at her. Heaven. Then a musical giggle erupted with a wave of little arms. Happiness burst inside Olivia.

How did a single second of Zoe’s laugh produce instant euphoria? She would never have believed this magic before, but Zoe’s giggle stopped her in her tracks and made her beam like nothing else.

A couple approached the small square, and Olivia smoothly transitioned a spin into a saunter.

“These are Christmas trees,” she’d continued, as they passed the garden shop in the middle of the ancient market, covered in garlands and the scent of pine and wreaths mingling with coffees and spices from other stalls.

“And this is a gift and jewellery shop.”

It blazed with light twinkling on trinkets and Zoe’s eyes went wide.

“And these shiny circles...” Olivia paused.

She looked at Zoe. Zoe looked at her.

“They’re rings.”

They stared at each other.

“You wear them on your fingers.”

Except she didn't, because they were as aggravating as rough seams on dresses.

But this morning, that wasn't what popped into her head.

Kate wore rings. Olivia liked her partner wearing rings.

Particularly the one on her little finger that glowed a different colour depending on her mood, according to the description.

The temperature of her body, Olivia thought more likely.

The effect fascinated her, and Olivia could stare at the banded gem, fluctuating in tone, while appreciating Kate’s soft, pale fingers too.

“People wear them and...”

Strange, the need to elaborate on this out loud.

“They’re what you give to someone when you get married...”

And a funny sensation zipped through her stomach.

“...Or want to get married.”

And the funny feeling leaped into her throat and made her heart skip ten times.

She moved on, breathing hard, determined to show Zoe more food. She circled again. To enjoy the Covered Market at its best at Christmas, of course. No other reason she lingered.

She breathed in the smell of hot chocolate from cafes. Smiled and chatted about every detail for Zoe’s benefit. The aroma was replaced with baking pies and the lure of gravy from the pie and mash place. Then she strolled beneath the knitted pride flag hanging above the wool stall.

And they came to the jewellery shop. Again.

She stared at the rings.

Not because they were sparkly and eye-catching.

But because, every time she looked at them, she pictured holding Kate’s pale hand and offering a golden band.

She imagined it so intensely, she could almost feel Kate’s fingers, a little shorter and stronger than her own, and so sure when they held hands.

So vividly, she feared looking up and seeing Kate's reaction, if Olivia did propose to slip the ring on her finger.

“Oh,” she said.

Then she covered her mouth.

Must she say everything out loud these days. She was getting as bad as her friend Charlotte, with this practice of saying every single obvious thing for Zoe’s benefit.

Zoe stared, long eyelashes blinking.

This feeling had been swirling underneath for months. In fact, ever since giving birth to their daughter, and a hormone-fuelled tsunami of emotions bonded her and Kate tighter.

But Olivia had never let herself articulate it.

She took a deep breath.

“I want...” She paused. “That is, it’s possible I want to get married.”

Lips in a tiny ‘o’. Big beautiful eyes. No comprehension whatsoever.

“I want to marry Mummy Kate,” Olivia clarified.

And Zoe beamed and kicked her little legs and waved her little arms.

Ah, that soppy burst of magic hit again.

“Yes, I do,” Olivia beamed back. “Yes, I do.”

Then slowly Olivia’s smile faded, and Zoe’s attention wandered. The reality of it sank in. And despite Zoe’s enthusiastic response at hearing Kate’s name, no doubt, Olivia’s stomach tied in knots.

At saying the thing, which had been bubbling under for months, that shouldn’t be said out loud.