Chapter 4
"You're so boring," Willa grumbled.
Luke finally looked up at her, grabbed a napkin, folded it a few times, and made a wonky little paper bird. He slid it across the table to her.
It was one of his rare, almost childlike gestures.
Her eyes burned, so she quickly ducked her head and took a sip of lemon water.
Twenty minutes passed, and Luke still hadn't shown up.
Thirty minutes went by, and he was still nowhere to be seen.
Willa shot him a text: [Are you still coming?]
No reply.
She called. His phone was off.
At 7:40, the waiter came to refill her water for the third time, his eyes filled with sympathy. Willa finally gave up and stood to pay the bill.
"Mr. Landon already covered the bill," the waiter said. "He left you a message, too."
Willa's heart skipped a beat. "What did he say?"
"He said... that if you were still waiting at 7:30 and he hadn't shown up, then I should tell you: not everything is worth waiting for."
Willa stood frozen, a cold rush flooding through her veins.
She walked out of the restaurant into the cool night air. The street was bustling with people, couples strolling past arm-in-arm, their laughter dissolving into the breeze.
She took out her phone, stared at Luke's number, and hit delete.
This time, she really deleted it.
*****
Friday brought the publishing house's team-building trip to a new resort on the outskirts of the city.
Willa wasn't planning to go, but Dawn practically dragged her along. "Come on, just treat it as a break! And Emma said the aquatic instructor there is smoking hot!"
"Not interested in the aquatic instructor." Willa stuffed clothes into her suitcase.
"Then what are you interested in? Your ex-husband?" Dawn leaned against the doorframe. "Don't think I haven't noticed. You've been completely out of it these past two days."
Willa paused. "Is it that obvious?"
"As obvious as if you had 'I'm heartbroken' written all over your face." Dawn walked over and crouched beside her. "Willa, it's been two years. If you can't let go, then either go get him back or let him go for good. Dragging this out only hurts you."
"I deleted his number for real this time," Willa said softly.
"So what about your heart? Did you delete him from there, too?"
Willa had no answer for that.
*****
The resort was lovely, nestled against a hill and overlooking a lake. During the afternoon free time, Willa took a solitary walk along the lakeshore. The water was clear, revealing the aquatic plants below.
"Willa?" A voice she knew all too well called out from behind.
She spun around and froze.
Luke stood there in a dark gray casual outfit, holding a folder. He looked stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting to see Willa here.
What a small world.
"What are you doing here?" they both blurted out at the same time, then fell silent.
Luke finally broke the silence. "Project inspection. Our firm is bidding for the second phase of the resort." He paused. "What about you?"
"Company team-building," Willa replied briefly.
Silence stretched between them. The wind rippled across the lake.
"That day—" Willa began.
"I had an emergency," Luke interrupted. "A last-minute international video conference, really important. My phone died."
"You could've had the restaurant let me know."
"I did." Luke looked at her. "Not everything is worth waiting for—I said that in anger. There's more: but this one is. The waiter didn't relay the whole message."
Willa blinked, processing his words.
"Are you saying I should have waited?" she asked.
"I'm saying we could reschedule," Luke said, stepping closer. "But since we've run into each other now..."
"I don't want to talk about it right now," Willa said, turning to leave.
Luke gently took hold of her wrist.
His hand was warm, with faint callusesthat spoke to years spent sketching and drafting. Willa froze; the sensation was so achingly familiar, she felt tears threaten to spill.
"Five minutes," Luke said, his voice low. "Just five minutes."
Willa didn't pull away, nor did she turn around.
"About that book. I looked into it later," Luke said. "The author truly didn't know. Her husband exploited her material. Your judgment at the time was correct. The manuscript itself was clean."
She blinked, her lashes fluttering.
"I apologize," Luke said. "For my rash accusations two years ago. And for what happened at the restaurant."
She finally turned to look at him. "Is that all?"
Luke let go of her wrist and pulled a sheet of paper from his folder, handing it to her.
It was an architectural sketch. The lines flowed smoothly, the design felt vibrant—totally different from his usual cold, rigid style. On closer look, it was a small house design with a spacious balcony, with a flower trellis noted on the drawing.
"What's this?" Willa asked.
"Something I drew last year." Luke said. "Nothing important. Just doodling."