Page 138 of Ward Willing
I set the printed pages of my book down on my writing desk with a softthwackonce settled in my bedroom.I sit down on my bed and close my eyes, thinking of anything and everythingotherthan Liam, just like every other time he crosses my mind—which is a lot.
Truth be told, if he doesn’t want me anymore…
It might break me.
I look around the small, single bedroom that’s home to a long bed, tiny desk, and dresser. Even though my flight to Los Angeles leaves tonight, I can’t help but feel nostalgic for this place.
It was the first place I’ve ever felt was all my own.Liam’s house was alwayshis.And I lived with three other classmates in the dorms of Thatcher Prep. For the first time in my life, I have a sense of direction and purpose. I’mexcitedfor the future with regards to my book, but the funny thing is, I can’t wrap my mind around everything that happened with Liam.
As excited as I am about everything, there’s still a massive hole in my chest. There’s still such a potent longing to be held by him. I miss him, and I don’t know what our future holds, but I can only hope that we can at least remain friends.
The wordfriendsmakes me grimace, but instead of wallowing, I decide to get a head start on packing.
It takes under an hour, and by the time I make my rounds and say goodbye to the seven other students, I’m ready to don my coat and hat to wait for my taxi to Heathrow.
As I drag my suitcase down the cobblestone road, a black SUV drives up to the sidewalk, and a window rolls down.
“Zoe Arma?” The older man opens his door and steps out.
He’s tall and has silver hair. Something about him is vaguely familiar, but I can’t pinpoint why. I have enough stranger danger to know not to answer him, and my expression must be one of vague alarm because he laughs and reaches for my hand. “I’m Prescott Deveraux. Estelle’s father,” he adds, his accent half-English, half-French.
“Oh, hi!” I say, shaking his hand.
“We met at Miles and Stella’s wedding. Therealone,” he adds, and I laugh when I think about the small ceremony they had when Beatrix was younger.
“Right. I thought you looked familiar.”
“Anyway, I was told to escort you to the airport.”
I look between him and the black SUV. “By whom?”
“Estelle, of course.” I arch a brow—that does not sound like something she would do—and he laughs again. “Fine. It was that pushy boyfriend of yours, and since you’re family, there was no question.”
Liam?
I shift my weight from hip to hip as he reaches out for my suitcase, taking it from me and walking it to the trunk.
“But I thought you lived in Paris?”
Prescott chuckles as he lifts the heavy suitcase; he’s surprisingly strong for someone in his seventies.
“I do.”
He doesn’t offer any other explanation though, just opens my door for me and smiles. “After you, ma chérie.”
My lips pull into a smirk as I slide into the leather seat. “Of course Liam would be overbearing from across the pond.”
Prescott smiles. “The best ones always are.”
Closing my door, he walks around to the other side. As we drive through London, Prescott asks me about Miles, Stella, and Beatrix. We talk about my book and my studies. I ask him about Stella’s childhood in London. We both laugh when we think of Miles having to one day handle a teenager. Signs for Heathrow appear on the motorway, and as we make our way through the dusky suburbs of London, I already know I’ll miss the city more than I can imagine.
“You know, my late wife was twenty years younger than me. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t,” I say softly, remembering how Stella told me that her mother died during childbirth. “I’m sorry you didn’t have more time with her.”
Prescott looks out of the window, expression peaceful yet… almost longing. “There is a saying in French, and I’m not quite sure how to properly translate it to English.Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait. It means, ‘if youth only knew, if age only could.’” I swallow as I digest his words. Before I can respond, he sighs. “Life is short. I wish I’d had more time with my wife. If age only could…” Sadness reverberates in his voice, and he turns to face me as we pull into my terminal. “My advice would be not to waste time on silly things, but to enjoy each other while you still can. Don’t waste asecond,Zoe.”
His words cause something sharp to lance through me—because he’s right.
