Chapter 11
It was the night before Christmas, and not a teen, child, baby, nor beautiful partner stirred.
But in bed, Olivia Sachdeva lay wide awake.
Her plan, her perfectly prepared plan, had flown out of the window.
She sighed and turned towards Zoe in the cot next to her, the interruption instantly forgiven.
No antidote existed as potent as Zoe’s angelic face when she slept.
Ruined plans? Worst nappies in the world?
All erased from memory when Olivia gazed at her sleeping baby, with the longest eyelashes and little round cheeks.
Zoe’s tiny mouth slowly drooped open, before a shuffle, and a mash, mash, mash of lips, and the beatific expression soothed Zoe’s face again and melted Olivia.
She couldn’t quite believe it. Guiltily, she realised this is how besotted her mother would have been with her, and she wondered if she’d be as annoying to Zoe when she grew into a teenager.
She sighed again.
So this was all lovely, but with plans going awry Olivia’s nerves were shredded.
Zoe gurgled on one side. Kate snuggled her on the other, her soft belly in the small of Olivia's back. A happy place. But the ring, now in the top drawer beside the head of the bed, called to her.
There wouldn’t be a quiet moment for at least a week with Christmas.
Especially one where she’d be in the right state of mind.
She was tempted to make an appointment with Kate, in her room at the top of the house, and ask not to be disturbed.
Or draft a formal email listing the pros and cons of marriage, preferable at this point just to reduce the stress.
There was so much to discuss, although mostly she wanted to ask Kate to be wives.
Sleep? Impossible.
She carefully folded back the duvet and slipped out of bed, bunching the cover where she’d lain for Kate to cuddle.
Olivia took the ring from her drawer. She tiptoed out of the bedroom, up another flight of stairs lit only from the glow of streetlamps outside.
Up to a small attic room where she sometimes worked, or needed a quiet moment, with her grey sofa and antique desk.
Somewhere meant as her space only, where she had a level of control in a very busy life.
She sat down and switched on the desk lamp, took out a square of thin paper, and stared at it. Everyone asleep. Park Town silent. A chance to think through her worries and clearly articulate what she needed to say.
Where to begin?
She prised open the velvet box and stroked the metal ring and gem. Not sparkling new. A little softened with age. Perfect didn’t mean without bumps and wear. Like them, already far into a life together. She’d not changed her mind about this ring. And she’d never change her mind about Kate.
She drew out her favourite fountain pen, and began to write, to the heart of the matter.
I want to give you this ring as a symbol of my deep and unwavering love for you. It is the most beautiful piece I could find. I would be happy if you accepted this gift, whether worn, kept on a chain or if you cherished it in a box. We would always know it was there and what it meant.
It can be more, if you want. But I know this is complicated for you. This ring is a promise to love and support you, as much as if we’d vowed in marriage. This ring is also that question, should you wish me to ask it. Please think about it. You don’t have to answer straightaway.
I love you. I know you know that. But I love you more than the day we promised to try this. More than when we chose to live together. Even more than the day Zoe was born.
And this ring is to say that.
Yours,
Olivia
In tiny writing on a note, she folded her words into the velvet-box, wrapped it in striped paper and secured it with a red ribbon.
She padded down the stairs and placed the parcel beneath the Christmas tree, with her heart leaping and her stomach in knots.
There. That’s as far as she could plan. Sometimes she just needed to let go, and she sent the question out into the universe.
Now Kate would open it, roll it around in her head, and come out with something appropriate. She was good at that. Handling them all and rolling with whatever got thrown her way. And she turned upstairs and left the gift.
To Kate, to open in private, love from Olivia.