Best Friend...Future Wife. Claire Baxter

      ‘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