Chapter 24

Elizabeth never replied to my question. Things got hectic at work, and I ended up being in Dubai with some doubts as to whether I could be back, even in time for Christmas. It ended up being resolved with some quick thinking on Richard's part, which turned a potential contract breach into a mere misunderstanding over the technicality of the placement of a semicolon where a comma should have been. I suspect someone at the law firm will be feeling the heat after the conversation Richard had with the managing partner. In the end, I fly back into Perth a few days late and drive down south the same afternoon. It is a Tuesday and Leaver's Week is in full swing with Bing's recent texts being mostly photos of the glorious weather, the beach, and his lady love. Not sure how much supervision of at-risk teens is going on, but I suspect Errol had accounted for some kind of distraction on their behalf.

It is late by the time I pull into the sweeping driveway of The Shack. The Maserati is a beautiful grand tourer and I love being able to take her on long country drives. She handled like a dream and ate up the dual lane highways almost like she was driving herself. I am still basking in the afterglow of indulging in one of my favourite pastimes, when I let myself into the house and head to my usual room. Bing had offered the master suite, but I prefer the view from the guest room, with a private balcony that faced north-west and tracked along the coast of the bay. On a clear night, like tonight, you could see for miles. I had eaten along the way, so I am neither tired nor hungry, despite the lateness of the hour, so I dump my bag near the walk-in robe and head for the balcony door. I know the room well enough that I don't need to turn on the light, preferring the darkness as my eyes adjust to the half-moon lit night sky and the galaxies of a billion stars you just can't see in the city.

It's funny. As I pass through the room, I swear I can smell her. Closing the balcony door behind me, I breathe in the distinctive native floral and salt combination and let it overpower my memories. Sinking into the banana lounge, I wonder about why the memory of her scent would hit me here. We spent no time in this house, apart from the first night we met. My scent memory of that night was mostly alcohol and adolescent desperation if I'm being completely honest.

I had intended to spend a few days wallowing here before I reached out to Elizabeth to try and resolve one way or another what our future might be, but having her presence triggered so powerfully in that moment prompts me to start typing my swirling thoughts, sending them as quickly as they came.

Please don't freak out.

I know it's late, but I just arrived here at the Shack and I'm sitting here on the balcony thinking of you.

It was so weird, but I walked into the house and up to my usual room and suddenly I thought I could even smell you. It must be something new the cleaners used, or I really am crazy.

I screwed up. I know I screwed up. And I should have known better.

Except that I know I could never have imagined the truth in that moment and that the only possible conclusion was that Lydia had heard the story, or part of it, from you.

I am sorry. I am so so sorry that I ever thought you could do that to me.

But even now, I can't condemn myself for that.

I do condemn myself for not hearing you out.

I can promise you, here and now and forever, that I will never do that again.

I will never block your calls or turn away from you or walk away from you.

Unless and until you don't want me.

I know you know that Georgie keeps me posted on how you're doing, so I don't assume you are telling her everything that's going on. But she doesn't think you've moved on or are seeing someone else.

So, I'm asking. Can you forgive me? Do we have a chance? You don't need to reply to this right now. And you don't need to reply with anything more than one word. Yes or No. That's all I need.

I will love you forever either way. I might be able to move on. I'll work my ass off to try and move on, to be the best man, the best brother, the best friend, husband or boss or whatever, I can be.

But there will be a part of me that will always belong to you. And the rest of me will owe you a debt I can never repay. For being the one who called me out of my self-imposed prison and for giving me the chance to live fully.

Sally told me the best, most confounded thing at our last session. She told me to figure out what this means for me and then live my life…

All joy comes from love. The price of love is grief.

Is that not the simplest yet most profound thing? My life has been defined by grief, but instead of accepting it as the price for having the blessing of love in my life, I let it close me off to almost everyone that loved me and robbed me of the joy I might have found.

This was who I was and who I would have remained. But for you. If losing you is the lesson I have to learn to never take my blessings or my grief for granted, so be it. I will learn it and be a better man.

If you don't reply, I will find you. I just want to move forward. I want to do it with you. But one word, or even just a look, is all I need, and you will never hear from me again.

If the answer is Yes or even Not Yet or to be honest, I'd even take a Maybe, I am here.

And I am always yours, with nothing left to hide.

Llewellyn Fitzwilliam Darcy

P.S. I really hope your phone was on silent when you went to bed. I'm really sorry if I woke you up.