The Wedding Agreement (The Green Family Series Book 1)

by Annie Dyer

  Noah laughed, passing the book back to me. “I’ve never been to an author signing.”

  “You should experience one. They’re good fun, and everyone there loves books, so you know you’re with decent people.” I eyed him, starting to get my fishing rod ready. “You could bring Carla.”

  He rubbed his face, looking away from me to the waiter who appeared there as if by teleportation. “I’ll have a coffee. Black, hot milk on the side.” Noah looked at me. “We’ll order a bottle of wine with food.”

  “I’ll have a tea, please. English – or even better, Yorkshire tea if you have it. Cold milk to go with it.” I was finicky with how my tea was served. It needed to brew for at least four minutes, longer if possible, and not have too much milk. Maven called me fussy. My brother Shay called me impossible. Aunt Marie simply told me I was perfect and I chose to believe her.

  “I think we have that.” The waiter gave me a small smile and a nod, then floated away.

  “Seriously, if you want the tickets – I don’t know if Carla likes…”

  “Carla and I are over.”

  My mouth remained open for an extra couple of seconds. “Oh. I’m sorry”. I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. “It wasn’t that long to your wedding, was it? Was it because of the pre-nup?” Maybe I was being too nosy.

  Noah shook his head. “Not really. Kind of. We’re finished though. No wedding, no relationship.” He rubbed his face again. “You’re my solicitor so you have to keep things confidential, right?”

  I nodded. “I don’t gossip anyway.”

  His smile was barely there. “When I read what she’d had added into the pre-nup, I went round to her apartment and found her sucking another bloke’s dick.”

  I knew my eyes were that wide I probably resembled an owl. Now wasn’t the time to be speechless either. “I think we should order that wine now.” I undid my hair from its bun, needing something to fiddle with, even though it had taken twenty minutes to get it to stay right.

  “Probably.” His eyes lacked the warmth they’d held when I’d seen him last week.

  “Have you cancelled everything? For the wedding, I mean?”

  “Not yet. We’re trying to work out how to deal with it. Her family’s trying to persuade me that she was suffering from some form of breakdown with the pressure of a big wedding. My mother’s saying nothing either way, and a lot of this was about her having a big society thing.” He straightened his cutlery that was already on the table.

  “But you’re not marrying her? You can’t, after that.”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I don’t think I wanted to in the first place.”

  “But you had a big wedding planned. I looked you up yesterday and saw an interview she gave – she was talking about your proposal and the dress, and all of that stuff.” I shook my head. “It didn’t sound like a wedding someone would have who didn’t want to get married in the first place.”

  Noah shrugged, beckoning the waiter over. He ordered a bottle of Shiraz and asked of olives and breads to nibble at, or probably soak up the wine when it came. “I wanted to get married while my grandfather could understand what was going on. He was keen to see me get married.”

  “That’s the only reason you were getting married?” I sat up a little straighter and frowned. Getting married wasn’t on my list of priorities, although it would be nice to have a relationship right now. The only reason I ever thought I’d get married was because I wanted to commit to that person.

  Noah looked away from me. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” He shook his head again. “There was some family pressure to settle down too. My mother.”

  “Ah. Lady Soames.” I’d met her a couple of times at awards days. She was formidable to say the least. “But you’ve never been one to do something because you have to.”

  “I thought Carla was a good idea. Now I’m left with a wedding and no bride.” He looked sad, and I’d never seen Noah sad before, not as kids.

  “That’s a good thing if you weren’t really into her.”

  “I don’t think she was into me either. Why else was she giving someone else a blow job?”

  I rested my chin on my hand and studied Noah. He was handsome in a very English way, his hair slightly unkempt, his jaw square and firm, and that dusting of stubble giving him just the slightest hint of naughtiness. “Why was she marrying you?”

  “My name. My money. Her family approved of me and she’d been a bit of a wild child.”

  The waiter appeared with our wine, going through the motions with us of tasting it and checking it was to our satisfaction. I never got the point of that; did anyone ever say no after trying it? If so, what did the restaurant do with the rest of the bottle.

  I said as much to Noah after the waiter had gone, both our glasses full of wine.

  So was Noah’s mouth, until he nearly spat it out when I mentioned it.

  “We’ll ask him when he comes back.” This time his smile met his eyes. “Then maybe we should ask to double sample the wine anyone sends back while we’re here. Good excuse for a few more glasses.”

  “I don’t usually need an excuse. And I think you’ve already got one. What’s the biggest problem you’ve got now you’re not marrying a woman who you weren’t that interested in anyway?” The wine was good. Smooth. Anyone who’d sent this back was a pretentious moron, but London had a few of those.

  “I wanted my grandfather to be at my wedding. I know it definitely isn’t the reason why you should get married, or I should get married, but now I’m pissed off at myself for spending the last five years -” He paused, looked at me and took another mouthful of wine. “Dicking around with women when I could’ve found someone to settle down with.”

  “Finding someone so your grandfather can see you get married is not a reason to ask someone to marry you, Noah Soames. That’s not why you get married.” I wagged my finger at him in the same way I wagged it at Shay when he was being a jerk, which was often. Only I didn’t feel the slightest bit sisterly towards Noah.

  “I know.” He folded his arms which only served to make his arms look more muscular. “And I get that even I was looking for someone to marry, I might not have found them anyway. But what about you? Has your man not put a ring on it yet?” He looked at the hand that was nursing my wine glass.

  I was left-handed, which meant any engagement or wedding ring would’ve been shown off right now.

  “I’m single.” I was at the point of having it tattooed across my head, it seemed to come in conversation that much.

  Noah raised his eyebrows. “That surprises me.”

  “It shouldn’t. I work too much, and if the first date isn’t a ten out of ten, there’s no second.” My sisters and cousins had told me often enough to give someone a second chance, that first dates were for nerves and mix-ups, and unless there was absolutely no spark, a second date wasn’t a waste of time.

  I didn’t have time to waste.

  “High standards.”

  “Maybe too high.” There should be no maybe about it, but I was kind of holding out for someone who made being with them a no-brainer. That wasn’t the guy from the date two weeks ago, who thought it was okay to tell me he expected me to stop working when we were married, and asked what meal I’d cook for a dinner party with his parents. “Hence still single.”

  His half smile made him look younger and I remember a time we were talking in one of the corridors at school, and I’d been hoping, praying even, that he’d take an interest in me as something more than someone to talk to.

  “You mustn’t be short of men trying to get in your good graces. Successful, gorgeous, independent. I feel sorry for any bloke you rejected after date one.” He topped up his wine before the sommelier could get to us, then did the same to mine.

  “I think I scare most men. I’m too independent; I like to do everything for myself, and I think that puts them off. But I’m not going to change who I am.” I took another mouthful of wine
. I hadn’t eaten much, and the alcohol was definitely making me tipsy quickly.

  “Can you use a drill?”

  “Yes. I can also tile and plaster a wall.”

  “Can you change a tyre?”

  “Easily.”

  “Can you get rid of a spider in your bathroom?”

  “I had a pet tarantula when I was a kid.”

  Noah laughed. “You’re kidding.”

  I nodded. “I didn’t have. Shay was scared of them, so I wasn’t allowed. But I did used to collect spiders and put them in his bed.” I grinned, remembering how much he hated finding one on his pillow. “So I’m not a woman that needs or wants someone to do everything for her. I can look after myself.”

  “Sometimes it’s nice to have someone look after you. Or look after someone else.” His eyes grew softer. “You might be able to look after yourself, no one questions that, but that doesn’t mean you can’t let someone else do it sometimes.”

  He had a point. I saw it with my sister, Lainey, who was more than capable of doing most things, but she enjoyed watching Jake fixing stuff around the farm and seeing his satisfaction from doing it. Same with Victoria and Georgia. I’d seen Vic and Max have face offs about who was doing what because of who could do it better. I also saw how Georgia managed Seph, when she could do it on her own, having been a single mother for all of Rose’s life.

  “I know. I suppose I haven’t met anyone who I’d trust to do stuff as well as me. I had a boyfriend once who offered to hang some shelves for me. The job he did was so bad I ended up having to reskim the wall, and then I hung the shelves myself, differently. When he saw them, he got really mad, saying how I thought I was better than him. He stormed out and we never spoke again.” I shrugged, remembering how little I was bothered when he didn’t return my call.

  Noah shook his head and laughed. “You’re so different to Carla.”

  “Why’s that? She was very beautiful.” I could see why he’d been attracted to her. She was the sort of woman Shay had on his arm, and Seph too, before he met Georgia.

  “She wanted everything done for her. One of the things she mentioned was having a housekeeper when she moved in, but one who would be able to do her hair each morning too. Not quite in a housekeeper’s job description.” He shook his head. “I’m in that stage where I have no idea what I thought I was doing.”

  “You were trying to make a memory that would be important to you.” The waiter appeared with the nibbles. I had a piece of artisan bread in my hand before the plate was already on the table.

  “And now I’m left with a shit show to sort out. The media will be all over this when it’s announced, and I’ll look like a eunuch. My mother will be even more pissed off with me, and the chances of meeting someone I actually want to marry and wants to marry me will be damn near nil. And my grandfather’s never going to be at my wedding.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’ll stop this pathetic pity party. This isn’t why you’re meeting me.” This time he smiled. “Although it feels weird – or it should do. I haven’t seen you for years and it seems like I only spoke to you last week.”

  “You did. About boundary disputes.” I grinned back, knowing exactly what he meant. “And I don’t mind listening. What do you need to make everything right?”

  He took another drink of his wine. “Someone who’ll marry me, give me twelve months with no scandal, won’t try to claim half my house, and won’t suck other men’s dicks – at least until after the divorce.”

  Later, I’d question the wine. And my sanity. But right then, I had a perfectly good idea.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

  Chapter Five

  Noah

  My first reaction was to gulp the red wine as opposed to spit it out, which meant it went down the wrong way. The choking fit was nothing compared to the explosion going on in my brain that Imogen had caused.

  “Shit, are you okay?” She fluttered round to me, rubbing my back before smacking it hard, which only made me choke all the more, and possibly dislodge a rib, or two. A waiter had rushed over, bringing water, the usual muted atmosphere of Shawcrosses disrupted by my dramatics, but that wasn’t what was causing me to heat up.

  Imogen Green had been a cute girl, a year younger, bright and bolshy. She’d taken no shit off anyone at school, and the boys had been a bit scared of her. You weren’t quite sure that you’d survive with your balls intact if you said the wrong thing.

  I was still scared that I wouldn’t survive with my balls intact if I said the wrong thing – that hadn’t changed. But where she’d been cute, she was now stunning in a way that Carla could only have dreamed of. Imogen had curves, ones a man could grab hold of. Her skin was clear, and I knew enough to see that she wasn’t caked in make up or stuff to make her cheekbones look more prominent.

  And she’d just suggested we got married.

  I finished choking in what I hoped was a discreet manner – it completely wasn’t – and then finished off what was in my wine glass, needing the clarity that only alcohol could bring.

  “Did you just propose?” The words were tinged with red wine.

  Her eyes narrowed, but a smile curved at her lips. “I suggested a solution to your problem. That was not a proposal.”

  “You said you’d marry me.” The shock was still there. Air was still missing from my lungs.

  “I did. As an agreement. A wedding agreement.” She tipped her chin higher into the air. “A mutually beneficial agreement with set boundaries and expectations.”

  I swallowed and took in a big gulp of air. “What do you get out of this? I understand how this helps me – but what do you get?”

  “No one trying to set me up on dates with their best friend’s milkman, or their ex’s brother. Someone to be my plus one without having to worry if they’ll embarrass me. Someone who won’t hurt my career.” She looked deadly serious.

  “Imogen, this is a big thing…”

  “One you were going to do with an airhead from a future reality TV show.” She interrupted me with all the precision of a sharpened blade. “You’re not going to find me with another man’s cock in my mouth. I’m not going to demand half your house, or whatever it was, as a settlement. And I’m definitely not going to sell my story to a magazine.”

  I sat back, just about having regained control of my breath. “But there are a ton of reasons not to.”

  She nodded. “No sex with anyone else. No dates. No big decisions made without the input of the other. Having to tolerate people asking when you’re going to have a baby. People questioning why you haven’t changed your surname to your husband’s…”

  “Do people actually do that?” I couldn’t see why someone would be bothered. Apart from Lady Soames, but that would be because she enjoyed finding issue with everything.

  “Absolutely. But it puts a stop to people asking if I’m worried about not meeting anyone in time to have children, or if I think I’m a bit fussy when it comes to men. Then you get people quietly asking you if you’re gay, and that’s why you’re single.” Her smile was deadly and made my balls retract a little.

  “What do you say to them?”

  “Very little. I just send them a message with a link for them to click and be educated. Then I consider whether I want them in my life or not.” She drained her glass of the rest of the wine and popped an olive in her mouth. “Look, the offer’s there. It needs some discussion and more of a plan, but it could work out useful for both of us.”

  “It could.” I shook my head. I wanted to argue that this was a wedding, and we should’ve at least had a few dates, plus – Carla. But everything with Carla in the first place told me I hadn’t been making great choices. This could be another bad choice.

  “Think of it as a business deal.” Her voice was quieter. “We can pull it off. Your engagement ended – agree with Carla how you want to spin that. Leave it a couple of weeks and we can come out as dating. We can even keep to the original date although that might be a bit tasteless.
”

  The waiter came over, asking if we were ready to order food. They must’ve figured something serious was going on, as they’d left us alone until now, other than coming over for my choking fit.

  I ordered my usual, not managing to hide my smile when Imogen asked several questions about the dish she was most interested in. There was no rush, every choice was made with precision and care.

  I watched her until the waiter had gone, wondering exactly when she’d formed this idea.

  “You’re looking at me as if I’ve grown a third head.” She sat back, folding her napkin over neatly.

  “Third? I can only count one.”

  Her smile was playful. “What are you thinking?”

  I wasn’t sure what I was thinking. My head had been a mess since I’d walked in on Carla. Everything was a mess. I’d heard from Carla a couple of times; once to berate me for walking in on her, and a second time to tell me how we could work through what had happened, that she was sorry, and it was just her panicking.

  I figured she was panicking more about losing the lifestyle she’d been hoping to have rather than the marriage and shitting herself about the media fallout that there might be.

  “That I need to have a plan. I don’t want any of this to be fodder for journalists. Both Carla and I look bad if this comes out.” I poured more wine. Probably not the right idea, but the tension I’d been carrying all week felt slightly less right now.

  Imogen shrugged. “Send out a statement that you parted ways some time ago and are just making it public now, as you both needed time to work through it. How long had you been engaged for?”

  “Six months.”

  “So say it was three months ago. Then if anyone spills to the media what Carla was up to, they won’t think she was cheating or you were being cheated on.” She was completely unruffled by the marriage proposal.

  And it was a decent plan. “But we hadn’t cancelled the venue or caterers.”