Loving Oliver

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ３２ Ｌｏｖｉｎｇ Ｔｈｅ Ｗａｙ Ｓｈｅ Ｈａｓ Ｙｏｕｒ Ｅｙｅｓ】

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ　３２　Ｌｏｖｉｎｇ　Ｔｈｅ　Ｗａｙ　Ｓｈｅ　Ｈａｓ　Ｙｏｕｒ　Ｅｙｅｓ】

I dreamt of her again. But this time it was different, completely different and it was something I so desperately needed. I had settled in my bed with the soft glow of the lamp to keep me company that night. I wrote down how I pictured her. And then I let the words flow from pen to journal and it came in beautiful fragments. My words became a mosaic of her, of the love I had for her and the love Oliver had for her.

Words that painted a mosaic of my daughter.

Of our daughter.

I could picture her stark black curly hair, my dimples in her tiny baby cheeks, and his eyes in her's. A deep forest green, leaving her image lively and wired. Eye's I'd never get to meet.

I slipped my journal onto the night stand and turned my lamp off but I still felt my gaze drift to my window that looked out toward the end of the block where I knew Ollie was fast asleep.

Did he dream of her too?

I did that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I woke that morning it was late, almost 11, but I felt well rested despite my first dream that night.

I stretched my arms above my head as I fight the sleep and sunlight in my eyes before I feel myself let out a groan as my shoulder pops.

And I stop and appreciate for just a moment that I don't hear the sounds of the city. What I used to wake up to being car horns turned to birds chirping and what sounded like a lawn being mowed somewhere down the block.

I could definitely get used to this.

I find myself tumbling out of bed trying not to get my legs caught in the blankets and narrowly avoid face planting into the hardwood floor.

Blowing my curls out of my face I manage to recover before I toss my blankets to the floor and pad over to my desk.

I slip my laptop off my desk and grab an oversized knit cardigan off the back of my desk chair and head out of my room into the upstairs hallway. I pause mid-step noticing Sam's open door and catch the sound of his snoring drifting down the hallway and I find myself smirking.

His night with Bronte left him all tuckered out. Big ass softy.

Good, he deserved to have more in his life besides work and a teenaged sister.

I pause briefly as I notice Owen's frame hanging off his bed in the bedroom toward the staircase.

I can't help but shake my head at the guy.

I make my way downstairs as quietly as possible making my way to the breakfast nook and set my laptop down before powering it up. Slipping my cardigan on I slide across the floor barefoot toward the wooden island.

I find myself making a pot of coffee and then start on some bacon, eggs, and then chop some fruit up for breakfast for everyone. I manage to whip everything up in under twenty minutes and sit down with a plate and cup of coffee.

I needed to start writing out my questions for the neurologist and see how I could arrange a last minute appointment.

I spend time thinking of everything possible to ask because I don't want to put Oliver at risk and I don't want to accidentally push the process of healing especially for my own selfishness.

If Oliver never remembers me, her, if he never gets his memories back, then I would have to accept that. I'd have no choice. But I wouldn't give Ollie up, I start all over with him. From the beginning.