Epilogue
Two Years Later
I send off the last email and then click out of my laptop with a sense of jubilation.
It’s Friday. Two whole days of doing nothing sounds like bliss.
Unfortunately, it won’t be with my sarcastic other half.
I look at Mac’s photo on my desk. His image laughs back at me.
I’d caught him mid caustic comment during a day on the river a few months ago, and he looks rumpled and so sexy.
“Are you asleep with your eyes open?”
I turn and see Julian leaning against the entrance to my cubicle. He’s dressed as pristinely as ever in a dark grey suit that makes his blond hair shine. He looks like an angel. I look at his expression and amend it to snarky angel.
I grin up at him. “Evening.”
“Ah, it was just your usual expression, then.”
“ Such a bitch,” I say admiringly, and he laughs.
“Maybe, but I’m a bitch who came over to ask if you fancy a lift home?”
“Isn’t it out of your way?”
“No, I’m going out that way.”
“You are an angel ,” I say fervently. “We only just got back from paintballing, so I was contemplating getting a coffee and sinking into a coma until rush hour was over.”
“You’d have been here for a while, but just think, you could have had another super chat with Lachlan.”
“Don’t say that.” At the sound of my boss’s name, I look around as if he’s going to pop up like Candyman. When he doesn’t appear, I relax. “I think it’s better that I never talk to him again.”
“Surely not. How on earth will he cope without hearing your thoughts on weekend boat trippers that segued seamlessly into a charming account of you inadvertently flashing a group of women on a hen do.”
I grimace in despair. “I don’t know what happened. It was just that he was looking at me like I was going to say something intelligent.”
“That was his first mistake.”
“And I kept telling myself to stop and not say another word, but my lips weren’t listening.”
“It was vastly entertaining.” He smirks. “How was your paintball bonding course?”
I look around and whisper, “They should get done on the Trade Description Act.” He laughs. “I’m so glad to be back. It’s been more like three days of armed warfare, bruises, and angry words.” I wink at him. “Sounds like your sex life.”
He rolls his eyes, and I stand up and grab my messenger bag.
It’s a leather one that Mac bought for me in a little shop in Paris when I got the news that I’d landed this job after finishing my master’s.
I work at a very prestigious forensic accountancy firm that had been my top pick out of the ones I’d applied to.
The work is hard, but I absolutely love it, and the sugar topping on the doughnut is that Julian got a job here too.
We start down the corridor.
“I bet paintballing wasn’t that bad,” he muses.
“I’ll remind you of that when it’s your turn to bond with the executives.”
“I’d rather bond with a bunch of hyperactive giraffes. Anyway, you’re probably exaggerating, as usual. Hyperbole should be your middle name.” He pauses as he presses the button for the lift and gives me a sly look. “Instead of Wilfred.”
I gasp. “Shut your foul mouth.”
“Wesley Wilfred Archer. Why, it just rolls off the tongue.”
“You’d better not tell Mac that. We’ve somehow got through two years without him finding out that my mother was a maniac in her naming choices.”
“I make no promises.” He smirks. “He’ll know in your marriage ceremony anyway.”
I sigh. “I keep telling you that’s never going to happen.”
“And I keep on replying that I know I’m right. He’s going to pop the question.”
“You think you’re right about everything.” I shake my head. “I think the only question he’ll be popping is why I’m covered in bruises and smell of paintball paint.”
“It doesn’t have a scent.”
I thrust my arm under his nose. “Smell my jacket.”
“I’ve had better offers.”
“You lie.”
He sniffs. “It just smells of fresh air, which is bad enough.”
“Evening, gentlemen.”
We spin around, and I swallow hard as I see our boss Lachlan and his husband, Joe.
Lachlan is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
He’s also rather intimidating until you see him smile at his husband.
Unfortunately, that smile doesn’t extend to junior accountants who set the work kitchen on fire.
As if on cue, Lachlan says, “Going home? Has anyone notified the firefighters they can stand down for the weekend?”
I snort and go to nudge him. He raises his eyebrow, and I think better of it, but his husband just laughs. “Stop taking the piss, Lachlan. It could happen to anyone.”
“Anyone with a memory span shorter than a goldfish,” Lachlan replies, but his eyes twinkle at me. At least I hope they’re twinkling at me rather than at the thought of handing me my P45.
“People in glass kitchens shouldn’t throw stones,” Joe muses, digging through his messenger bag.
A load of business cards for his wedding planning business falls out, and I bend to scoop them up for him.
“Cheers,” he says with a sunny smile. “Now, let me just find my diary because I need to make a note to remind Lachlan of when he put a tin of tuna in the microwave.”
“ Joe ,” Lachlan sighs, but his lip twitches as he looks at his husband.
The lift doors open, and they step in. “Getting in?” Lachlan asks, as Julian and I hesitate.
“Erm, no. I just remembered something. Something important,” I say, waving vaguely at the office. Joe winks at me, and the doors close.
“Aaaand relax,” Julian intones, and we both snort before grabbing another lift.
When we get downstairs, he opens the boot of his sporty little Audi with a click of his key fob, and I gratefully throw my bag in before climbing into the front seat with a sigh of relief.
“God, I’m tired.” He climbs in, and I look at him as he starts the engine and pulls away from the small car park.
“So, what are you up to this weekend?” He shoots me his usual bland look, and I groan.
“Do I need a security password to find out your comings and goings?”
“Well, hopefully, they’ll be more of the former than the latter.”
“Are you going to Jack’s?”
He grimaces. “Fuck, no . Whatever gave you that idea? I haven’t been there since we packed it in.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. You never say anything about your personal life.”
“Not one of your failings.”
“Can I help it that I’m open and unguarded?”
“Or have a mouth the size of the Mersey Tunnel.” I laugh, and he shoots me a look, his eyes twinkling. “I’m not doing anything apart from giving myself some much-needed me time.”
“Is that a code word for masturbation?”
“I don’t recall ever needing to conceal that.”
“True. Are you happy?” I ask impulsively.
He shoots me a startled look before turning his attention to the busy traffic. “What an odd question.”
“Not really. It’s odder not to get an answer to it.”
There’s a long pause. “I suppose so,” he finally says. “I like that my flat is my own and I don’t owe anything to anyone. I have a good social life, and I date.”
“That sounds happy.” He shrugs. “Do you still see Fox?” I say impulsively.
He groans. “Where is all this coming from?”
“I’m sleep-deprived. I always talk too much.”
“Well, luckily, that’s Mac’s problem and not mine. Is he back yet?”
“No,” I say morosely. “He’s been gone for ages. The original week stretched into two because there was a problem with the Paris office, so he’s had to stay until it was sorted.”
“Are you still going on holiday next month?”
“Definitely. He promised me, and he never breaks his promises.”
“Where are you going again?”
“Two weeks in the Caribbean. Me, him, a big bed, and no internet. Bliss.”
“How’s your brother and Cath doing?”
I can’t help but smile. “They’re doing really well. They just moved into a new house, and they’re talking about starting a family.”
Mac has given me a lot of things—worldly possessions, the price of which still makes me blink, and a beautiful home—but the thing that means most to me is the gift of my brother’s happiness.
When Tyler came out of rehab, he found that Mac had paid off all his debts to give him a fresh start.
Tyler thanked Mac and said that he’d pay him everything back, and to his credit, he’s doing that.
Mac had told him that he had a job for him if he wanted, but it was in Norfolk.
He employs him as the property manager of some holiday cottages that he owns there.
Tyler oversees all the properties and makes sure that any needed work gets done on time.
It’s a good job with a lot of responsibility, but cash isn’t a part of it, as Mac’s assistant pays the bills.
And although I’d been worried, I needn’t have bothered.
Tyler’s thriving in the position, and he and Cath, with some help, have worked through the problems caused by his gambling.
I don’t think he’ll ever be over the temptation, but part of the job that I know Mac created for him has mental health benefits, and he’d put Tyler in touch with a therapist who specialises in addiction.
I love that we get to see them whenever we spend the weekends down there.
“Yeah, he’s doing well,” I say softly.
He clicks his indicator and pulls up by the towpath. “I’ll open the boot.”
“Cheers.” I grin at him. “I might be too tired to get out of the car.”
“Well, you’re definitely not sleeping there. You’ll make it smell like paintballs.”
“ Exactly ,” I say in triumph. “You know I’m right.”
I climb out, heading around to the back to get my bag. Shouldering it, I walk to the driver’s window and stoop down. “Don’t think I’m unaware you haven’t answered my question.”
“What question was that?” he says in an innocent tone of voice.
“Whether you still see Fox.”
“Why would I see him?”
He starts to pull away, and I laugh, shouting after him, “Answering a question with a question is still not answering.”