Chapter 21

Love isn’t the des­ti­na­tion.

Love is the jour­ney you take with ev­ery­one in your life that cares about all that you are.

And you reach the end with the per­son who cares about you more than any­one else on earth.

“You just accepted it. You weren’t supposed to just accept it.”

“You’re late,” Lizzie said as Will sat down.

He looked at his watch. “It’s two minutes past twelve.”

“Not by my watch.”

“Then your watch is fast.”

“Much longer and I’d have started texting.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

She shrugged. “You do know the house rule?”

“Which rule?”

“That the last one to arrive has to buy the meal.”

“And would that rule stand if I’d have been here first?”

With a grin, she said, “It’s a flexible rule. So what took you?”

He sighed. “I had to park about a quarter of a mile down the prom. There was a space right by the pier, or there would have been if someone learned how to park properly.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. This little blue Fiesta was straddling two spaces. I mean, come on, it’s a Fiesta for God’s sake. It’s tiny. Fancy not being able to park something like that properly.”

“And I suppose you assume it’s a woman.”

“Not really. I know some men who are pretty bad at parking. Still, at least whoever it is will get what’s coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw a traffic warden patrolling. And they’re cracking down on parking across two spaces.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Er, will you excuse me?” She rushed away and returned several minutes later.

“Properly parked now?” Will asked when she sat down. She stuck her tongue out at him.

They ordered chicken dinners and chatted about the reunion and some of their old schoolmates that had attended but Will felt as if Lizzie was avoiding the one topic he wanted to talk about. He assumed she was waiting for him to bring it up. Lunch was over and they were tucking into dessert—two tall knickerbocker glories—before he felt the time was right.

“Lizzie, can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything you want.”

“It’s about Amy.”

After a moment’s hesitation she said, “Like I said, you can ask me anything. But you might not get an answer.”

“Why not?”

“Some of the answers aren’t mine to give.”

“Fair enough.” He had another spoonful of ice cream then sighed as he prepared to ask the question.

“Will!”

Will and Lizzie turned their heads towards the new voice. “Jeremy. What are you doing here?”

Jeremy nodded towards two people behind him. “My parents. It’s kind of a celebration of me making the last six.”

“Jeremy works for me. He’s been nominated for partnership this year and heard he’s one of the final six candidates on Friday,” Will explained to Lizzie.

“Congratulations,” Lizzie said. She extended her hand and Jeremy shook it. There was a hungry look in his eye.

“Jem, this is my old friend, Lizzie.”

She huffed. “Not that old, thank you very much.”

“From the reunion?” Jeremy asked with a raised eyebrow. “So you’re the same age as Will? I never would have believed it.”

Lizzie blushed.

“Get out of here, you smooth talker,” Will said. “Or else I’ll have to call head office and tell them about that little misunderstanding last year on the Lynch matter.”

“I’m gone. See you on Monday.”

Lizzie watched him leave then, when he was out of earshot, said, “Damn, Will. He is cute.”

“He’s twenty-eight.”

“And that makes a difference, does it? This is the twenty-first century. Is he single?”

Will shook his head in desperation. Lizzie was still looking at Jeremy, who was standing by a table on the far side of the room with his back to them. “Really, really nice bum too.”

Will looked at her sternly.

“Okay, okay. I’ll behave,” she said. “You were about to ask me a question.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” He paused. “How did it happen? I mean, how did Amy end up with ... You know.”

Lizzie bit her lip and looked contemplative. Will couldn’t read her.

“Is this one of the answers that isn’t yours to give?” he asked.

“No. I was just thinking of the best way to put it.”

“Put what?”

“Do you want to know how they got together? Or why?”

Will didn’t answer.

“I’d guess you want to know why, rather than the details of how. In which case, the answer is that it’s your fault.”

“My fault? How do you figure that?”

“You know that letter she wrote to you?”

“The one where she told me it wasn’t working and we’d be better off if we called it a day? Yeah, I sort of remember it.”

“Well ... She did her part, but you didn’t do yours.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You just accepted it. You weren’t supposed to just accept it.”

“Accepted it?” he said loudly. The people at the next table looked at him. He offered them a smile then lowered his voice to an angry whisper and continued. “Amy said something similar last night but ... I didn’t just accept it, Lizzie. Look, after I got that letter I didn’t come out of my room for two days. Not for lectures. Or to eat. Nothing. And when I did come out on the third day, it was only because I was desperate for the loo. And I only started going to lectures again because I was scared they’d throw me off the course. For three months after that damn letter, I didn’t go out if I could help it. I didn’t socialise at all. I threw myself into my work because my work was all I had.”