Jefferson/Grace/Oliver
In that precise moment, Oliver fell arse-over-tit irrevocably in love with an eleven year old girl.
The skin around his eyes crinkled, heat budding in the base of his throat where words failed and his pulse quickened. If Oliver were honest with himself, the one person he seemed to chronically lie to, he would have admitted a great desire to have a daughter of his own someday. Even more, he might have admitted to being slightly jealous of Jefferson. He had the girl, he had his career. He had Alice. A near perfect life, even at the loss of his dearly-deaparted wife.
Nodding at first, because he could not find the words, Oliver wrapped his large hands around Grace's tiny ones, his finger still trapped in her grip. 'Aye. Right there. In your heart. Which is really special because once you let someone in.... they donnae ever leave you. Sort of like magic. They'll always be with you.'