Best Friend...Future Wife

CHAPTER THREE

DELLA drove to Lyn’s house. She’d put in a superhuman effort, clearing a mountain of work so she could leave without a guilty conscience. When she reached Lyn’s, she saw an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. A Saab. Visitors? Would Lyn be obliged to stay home? Della almost hoped she would. Almost. But that would be the coward’s way out, and she was no coward.

She rang the doorbell. Lyn flung open the door, Cassie cradled in her arms. ‘I’m nearly ready,’ she said before Della could speak. ‘Here, take Cassie and I’ll finish my make-up.’

Della cuddled Cassie into her shoulder. Assuming the car belonged to one of Patrick’s friends, she headed through a door off the hallway. She came to an abrupt stop when she saw Luke sitting on the floor, playing a game with Jamie.

‘Hi.’ He looked up, giving her a wry smile. ‘Want to play?’

She tried to squash the excitement bubbling up at seeing him again, and shook her head. ‘Just waiting for Lyn. I expected to see Patrick.’

‘He had to work. I offered to babysit.’

‘You? Babysit?’

‘Don’t look so shocked. It will give me an opportunity to get to know my cheating nephew better.’ He tweaked Jamie’s nose. ‘And my beautiful niece.’ He reached up and jiggled one dangling foot as Cassie snuggled further into Della’s shoulder. ‘Besides,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t have you putting me off indefinitely and using Patrick as an excuse.’

She blinked. ‘Right.’

He must really need to talk if he’d gone to this trouble to make sure she’d be free. She had better be prepared for the floodgates to open.

Jamie demanded his attention, and he answered the little boy patiently. It shouldn’t surprise her. He’d been good with Megan and Poppy when they’d been little. But somehow the scene cut right to her core, causing a sharp ache deep inside.

He looked up. ‘So, dinner tomorrow night, then? Shall I pick you up? I have a car now.’

‘The Saab outside? You bought it?’

‘Yup. Like it? I decided to treat myself. I’ve never had a decent car. Tell you what, we could eat at your place. Don’t worry about cooking, I’ll bring dinner and wine.’

She was still stuck on the fact he’d bought a car. He really was settling down. Next thing she knew, he’d be buying a house. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘I said, I’ll bring food and we’ll eat at your place. You’re still a burger freak, I assume?’

She nodded.

‘Ready?’ Lyn called from the doorway.

‘I’ll be there at seven,’ he said.

‘What’s this?’ Lyn asked. ‘You two going out without me?’

‘Lynnie, you wrecked our gang when you married Patrick. Now you have to suffer the consequences,’ Luke said.

She pouted. ‘Well, just you look after my kids, Uncle Luke. Come on, Della, let’s leave him to it. I’ve given them both prunes for tea, so he’ll have a lovely time.’

Della grinned at the look of horror on Luke’s face as she handed Cassie to him.

‘Not really,’ Lyn mouthed as she shut the door behind them.

Mamma Marcella’s, their restaurant of choice, was busier than normal, but they found a table in the back corner near the kitchen. Della liked the relaxed ambience, and the owners let them linger long after they’d finished coffee. The perfect place for a catch-up chat.

They ordered at the counter and bought drinks before settling at their table.

‘Right. I’ve been a very patient friend, but I’m dying to know. What did the doctor say?’

Della steeled herself. She knew she had to talk about it. She might as well get it over with early then she could relax for the rest of the evening.

Relax? Ha! She didn’t know the meaning of the word.

‘It’s definite,’ she said. ‘As suspected, I can’t have children.’

‘Oh, Della.’ Lyn’s face contorted. ‘I’m so sorry. Are they sure? Is there nothing they can do?’

Della shook her head, swallowing past the cricket ball in her throat.

‘IVF?’ Lyn suggested tentatively.

‘No. She said the ovarian follicles won’t respond to the stimulation.’

‘Bugger, bugger, bugger.’ Lyn took a gulp from her glass. ‘It’s so unfair.’

Della shrugged, trying for casual. ‘I always knew the chemo could do this.’

‘I know, but there was hope. Until now.’ Lyn took another deep drink. ‘God, I can only imagine how you feel.’ She gave her friend a long look. ‘How do you feel?’

Della took a moment to choose her words. ‘I feel…diminished.’

‘Oh, my God. No.’ Lyn squeezed Della’s hand.

‘I don’t even understand why I feel this way,’ Della rushed on. ‘I mean, it’s not like I’m planning to get married in the foreseeable future, and chances are I never will.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘Why not? It’s a fact.’ She paused, dragging in a deep breath and making an effort to slow down. If she allowed herself to gabble, the next thing she knew she’d be in tears. Slowing her speech always helped her to appear calm.

‘The point is,’ she said, ‘it was a fact before I saw Dr Morgan, and I didn’t feel any less a person then.’

‘Nor should you now. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t find a man to marry. A man who doesn’t want children. I mean, the right man. Not like those losers you’ve dated over the last few years.’

‘Losers? They weren’t all losers.’ Okay, some were. But as for the others, well, it wasn’t their fault she couldn’t love them. It was hers.

Lyn gazed at her for several moments. ‘It’s strange you’ve never found anyone. I mean, I fancied myself in love something like half a dozen times before I met Patrick. But you, you’ve never even considered the possibility, have you? Or, if you have, you’ve never mentioned it.’

Della looked away. She stared at the menu boards on the wall, but the chalk letters turned to squiggles before her eyes. She’d considered love all right. Very long and very hard. She hadn’t wanted to ruin their friendship by telling Lyn she’d fallen in love with her brother all those years ago.

He was so obviously not interested in her as anything but a friend; she hadn’t wanted to run the risk of his rejection. God, she could only imagine the mess it would have caused, the awkwardness when she’d gone to Lyn’s home. The embarrassment. And Lyn’s friendship was so very, very important to her. They were both important to her. What would her life have been like without them? She hadn’t wanted to lose either of them. So, her considered response had been to hide her feelings.

Her resolve had firmed when she’d realised he wouldn’t be sticking around. For a short space of time, she’d suspected he was looking at her in a different way. As if he, too, had been having thoughts that went deeper than friendship. But she’d convinced herself it was just her imagination. And, even if it hadn’t been, he’d had so many plans, so much desire to make a difference, such a driving sense of right and wrong.

She would never have put any obstacles in the way of him achieving his goals. Keeping her feelings to herself had been the right thing to do. A relationship with her would have been an obstacle. If he’d stayed, he’d never have felt fulfilled. He’d needed to be completely free to pursue the life he dreamed of. The lonely life of a solo-journalist was what he’d wanted and, because she’d loved him, she’d wanted it for him too.

But now, he’d done it all. And more. She had the evidence, if she needed it, that he’d never had any serious attraction to her. The fact that he’d married Yvonne was proof positive. What she didn’t understand was why her own feelings had remained as strong as ever. Despite his marriage, despite the length of time he’d stayed away, she was still in love with him.

‘Do you think it’s because of your parents?’ Lyn asked softly.

Della started. ‘My parents?’ She narrowed her eyes at her friend, not sure what she was getting at.

‘I mean…’ Lyn cleared her throat. ‘Do you think a lack of affection during your childhood has made it impossible for you to love now? I suppose it’s the old question of nature versus nurture, isn’t it? How much of our personality is the result of our upbringing, and how much due to innate character?’

Della tilted her head. ‘I see what you’re saying, but I really don’t think…I mean, I’m sure I could love him, if I found the right man.’

Lyn smiled. ‘Well, he might be just around the corner,’ she said in an encouraging tone.

Della lowered her eyes. Several corners—there were several corners between the restaurant and Lyn’s house. She gave her head a slight shake.

Lyn sighed. ‘So, if you don’t see yourself getting married, what do you think you’ll be doing in, say, ten years’ time?’

She looked up. This she could answer. She’d given it plenty of thought. ‘When I, or rather if I get the promotion, I’ll be the youngest partner in the firm, as well as the first female. I want to make a success of the role. That will take ten years, easily.’

‘Right. Blazing a trail for other women and all that. Hmm, it’s all very well, but there’s more to life than work, you know.’

A waiter arrived at their table with two plates of food. ‘Hi there,’ he said. ‘Nice to see you back again.’

They both smiled up at him. He was related to the owner, and always had a friendly word for them.

‘Enjoy!’

Lyn watched him walk off. ‘That is one very cute guy. Pity he’s too young for you.’

‘Lyn! He’s like half my age.’

Lyn laughed. ‘He’s not that young.’ Unwrapping her cutlery, she said, ‘I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I do worry about you.’

‘You don’t need to. I enjoy my work.’

‘I don’t know why, it always seems so stressful.’

‘It’s challenging.’

‘It’s that all right. Sometimes, though, I wonder…’

‘Wonder what?’

‘How you can work for people like Tom Dermont.’

‘Well, not all my clients are like Tom.’

‘No, of course not, but he’s not the only one like that, either. How do you justify working for them? To yourself? Your conscience?’

Della frowned. ‘I don’t feel that I have to justify it. I’m not responsible for what he does or doesn’t do. It’s a job. I only have to concentrate on doing the work to the best of my ability.’

Lyn paused with her fork in mid-air. ‘You don’t think you’d be happier in a different job?’

Della shook her head.

After chewing her food, Lyn shrugged. ‘Anyway, that isn’t where I meant to go with this. What I meant was, I don’t want you to be so wrapped up in your work that you end up alone.’

‘I won’t be alone. I have you and Patrick, Jamie and Cassie, Dawn and Frank, Megan and Poppy.’

‘And Luke.’

‘And…Luke.’

Della averted her eyes, focusing on a young woman who was weaving between the tables, her generous hips swaying. If she was a typical woman, she’d prefer a svelte figure to the wide, childbearing hips she’d been given. But would she give up her chance to have children for it? Very unlikely. Not many women were childless from choice.

‘I think,’ Della said, ‘there’s something built into us, you know? Knowing I can’t accomplish the basic purpose I was meant for makes me feel less of a woman.’

Lyn’s eyes shone and she blinked rapidly. ‘I will not have you talking like this. It’s nonsense. There are loads of women who don’t have children, whether it’s a health issue, a lifestyle thing or otherwise. No one thinks less of them for it. No one will think less of you, Dell.’

She nodded. ‘Part of me knows you’re right, yet it doesn’t make a jot of difference to the way I feel. I just need some time to accept it, you know? I need to come to terms with it. I would have liked…loved—’ Her voice cracked and she paused, lips pursed, stomach clenched, willing herself to keep it together. ‘To…to have a child of my own some day.’

‘Of course, and you’d make—’ Lyn bit a trembling lip. ‘Would have made a wonderful mother.’

Della fanned her face with her paper napkin. ‘Don’t tell anyone, Lyn. Don’t tell Dawn. I’ll explain it to her myself one day, when I’m ready. But not yet.’

Lyn dragged the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘Mum will feel badly for you.’

‘I know she will. That’s the problem. I can’t cope with her sympathy yet. I can’t cope with anyone’s sympathy.’ Until she could talk about it without shrivelling up inside, she didn’t want anyone else to know.

‘Fair enough.’ Lyn ducked her head and tugged a tissue from her handbag.

‘Let’s talk about something else now. Has Cassie’s first tooth come through yet?’

After blowing her nose, Lyn followed Della’s lead and filled her in on news of her offspring.

Della laughed as Lyn reached the end of an anecdote. ‘You should write all this down. You’d fill a book in no time, and I bet lots of parents would relate to it.’

Lyn flapped a hand. ‘I’m no writer. You and Luke were the ones with the monopoly on that. Or do I mean duopoly? See? I’m no good with words. And, speaking of Luke, what do you think of him moving back here?’

‘Well…’ She scratched her cheek thoughtfully. ‘I find it hard to believe. I can’t imagine him finding life here exciting enough, can you? I can’t help wondering whether he’s only come back to be near his family and friends while he gets over his divorce.’

Lyn frowned. ‘You might have a point, but he won’t talk about it. I think it would do him good if he did.’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t want to talk to you because you have a happy marriage.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Lyn swirled the wine in her glass. ‘You might be right. Why don’t you see if you can get him to talk?’

Della nodded. ‘I’m hoping that’s why he wants to catch up tomorrow night.’

‘Sure. Do your best. Of course, we might be wrong. He might have moved back because he’s sick of the dangers and deprivations of living like he has for so long. Maybe he wants to settle down and live like a normal person.’

‘Could be as simple as that.’

‘Then again,’ Lyn said, ‘this is Luke we’re talking about. He doesn’t do settling down.’

Rushing through her front door the next day, Della cursed the senior consultants’ meeting for going on so long. Now she wouldn’t have time for the leisurely shower she’d planned to indulge in before Luke arrived. She started to remove her clothes on the way upstairs, finished the job in her bedroom and darted into the en-suite bathroom, where she took a shower in record time. She’d pulled on a pair of three-quarter length jeans and a short white T-shirt by the time the doorbell rang.

After finger-combing her hair on the way downstairs, she dragged open the front door. The meagre remains of her breath escaped when she saw Luke standing there. In his jeans, and a black muscle-skimming T-shirt, he looked young again. The embodiment of her fantasy. The man who’d come to her in her dreams night after lonely night, year after long year.

Her nerves buzzed with the thrill of being near him again, reminding her why she’d fallen for him in the first place. As she stared, a trickle of water ran down her neck, and with her nerves so taut it sent a shiver right through her.

‘Hi,’ she said.

He held up his hands. In one, he clutched a brown paper fast-food bag. In the other, a bottle of local wine. He turned it so she could see the label. ‘Will this do? Should I have brought a white too?’

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