by Annie Dyer
I bit the bullet. “My offer still stands.”
Noah laughed, looking at his feet before his gaze came back to me.
It was then I realised that the terms of this agreement had to be clear. Black and white, this was a favour for an old friend. My heart was not up for negotiation, and Noah had the power to claim it, and make it his own.
“I was hoping it would. I can pay your expenses, and we can agree on a suitable divorce settlement. I think I get more from this than you.” His focus was solely on me now, his eyes taking me in.
He looked grateful, as if he owed me a debt that was bigger than anything imaginable.
“I want my grandfather to see me married, and believe I’m settled.” His voice was low, as if he was now so certain with this conclusion there was no way he could be persuaded otherwise.
I nodded, then looked at the Thames, one of the clippers passing by, taking the tourists to see the sights of London town from the water. I’d taken the trip a few times myself, finding something new to notice each time.
“Was your grandfather as keen to see your brothers married?” It was something I felt was important to know to understand more about him.
Noah nodded. “He was thrilled when Gus announced his engagement. When Robbie came out, Grandfa was the one who championed him with our mother. He was just so thrilled he’d met someone.”
“Is your grandmother still alive?”
Noah swallowed before answering. “No. Elizabeth died before my mother was married. My grandfa was devastated. He met Caroline fifteen years after, not long after I was born, and she made him happy again. He believes that having that person is the best way to be happy.” His sigh was loud and must’ve pretty much cleared his lungs.
I waited for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what I was going to say next, much in the same way I did with clients when I knew they were going to find advice hard to take.
“Won’t you feel like you lied to your grandfather? If he believes you’ve married the love of your life, and you haven’t.” It was difficult thing to say.
Noah didn’t answer straight away. Part of me expected him to get up and walk away – it was hardly what he’d want to hear.
He settled back in the seat, looking at the river. I wondered who he’d be sitting here with in thirty, forty years’ time, and what she’d be like. A little further down the side of the river, a couple sat who looked to be in their seventies, her silver hair neatly styled, his clipped closely to his scalp. They were looking at each other and laughing, their hands intertwined.
“I wonder how long they’ve been married.” I whispered the words, not sure if Noah was listening or not.
He laughed quietly. “Maybe just a few months.”
“Maybe a few decades.”
“If you marry me, I’ll be stopping you from meeting someone else anytime soon. We need to be together for at least a year before we can separate, and I can’t risk a scandal if you were to have an affair.” He didn’t look at me, and his expression was too serious.
I’d never been involved in a proposal before. I’d heard about Seph’s to Georgia, and Jake Maynard’s to my sister, Lainey, but I’ve never received one, or even thought I could marry any man I’d met before.
However, this wasn’t how I’d expected it to go.
“I wouldn’t. And you don’t need to worry about me meeting someone – it hasn’t happened yet, and I’ve been looking.” I shrugged.
“You know what they say: you stop looking and it finds you.” His smile was watery and forced.
A couple of pigeons landed in front of us on the railings and started to tap each other’s beaks – a pigeon kiss. I knew enough about pigeons to predict they’d be putting on an X-rated performance shortly.
“Well, if it does for either of us, let’s just agree to be honest about it. This isn’t a wedding based on love, it’s an agreement. I can write us a contract that outlines what will happen in certain eventualities, and that can be included.” I had never sounded more like a solicitor in my life.
Noah laughed, which I wasn’t expecting.
“Okay. It sounds completely unlike how I expected the run up to any wedding to be.” He reached for my hand, the gesture making me jump. “We have to get used to looking and acting like a couple, Imogen.”
My stomach did something when he said my name, the three syllables rocketing round my chest and making me feel dizzy. This would have to stop. This needed to stop.
“We do.” I linked my fingers into his. His grip was firm and warm, his hands not as smooth as I thought they’d be; I could feel a couple of callouses and my imagination drifted to what they’d feel like on my body.
We needed to have a clause about that. Things between us. Sexy things.
Only I had no idea what the things would be.
“When do we start?” I left my gaze on him a little longer this time, taking the time to look at the man who was going to be my future husband.
“Tomorrow? Would you come to meet my grandfather while he’s in London? My mother’s in the city too, but I won’t put you through meeting her yet – that’s an ordeal that can wait.” His fingers gripped mine a little harder as he spoke.
It felt good, as if we were actually a couple making plans.
“I’ll meet your grandfather. I can book half a day’s holiday tomorrow afternoon if I work late tonight. We should discuss other things too – rings, dates, venues, our backstory.”
“That’s easy. We met through your work and remembered how we both liked each other back in school. Things clicked and it just felt right.” His smile was shockingly bright.
I looked at our hands. “You liked me, hey?”
He laughed. “You were cute. And a bit scary for me back then. But if someone had told seventeen-year-old me that I’d be marrying you, I doubt he would’ve believed his luck.”
I didn’t probe anymore. Instead I stood up, pulling him up with me as best I could, making him laugh. He was more relaxed now, especially compared with how tense he’d been before.
“You can walk me back to the office. I’ll tell you about the boundary dispute on the way.”
“Yes, Imogen, dear.”
I just elbowed him in the ribs, and we both laughed. I hoped we kept laughing.
Georgia had seen Noah walk back with me. When I got in our office, she was sitting on my desk, waiting to pounce.
“Was that Noah Soames you were holding hands with?”
I looked at her, my heart rate yet again hitting the roof. My mouth opened, my brain disengaged.
“It was. And we’re getting married.”
Chapter Seven
Noah
This was quite possibly going to be the most uncomfortable conversation I’d ever had with my brothers, apart from the time they took it upon themselves to tell me what else you could do with a penis other than pee. There were probably a few more conversations that fell into that category – the information about blow jobs, Robbie’s description of anal sex when you were receiving, and the recollection from Gus about how he walked in on our parents when they were doing the seated tango as opposed to the horizontal one, were all included.
Telling your brothers that you are still getting married in a matter of weeks, only not to the original woman, was not on my list of things I was looking forward to. It was up there with having a university viva, or being water boarded for information you didn’t possess.
“I need a favour.” I’d already announced that dinner was on me, which meant that both of them had ordered steak, and Robbie had picked the most expensive bottle of red wine on the menu.
“We gathered.” Robbie lifted his glass to Gus’s in a toast. “Is it a kidney or a lung?”
“Worse. I need you to help me out with her ladyship.” I put my glass of water down. Alcohol was not going to help this week; a clear head would.
Gus folded his arms and sat back in his chair. “What with?”
“Backing me up.”
“Excellent. So you’ll say the right things when I tell her I’m getting married, just not to Carla.” I plastered a grin on my face and waited for the reaction.
There was none. My brothers both picked up their wine glasses and slurped it, looking around them as if I’d just announced that I was the youngest out of the three of us.
“Do you have any questions?”
Gus topped up his glass. “Who’s the lucky woman? Which page did you find her on?”
“Bastard.” I shook my head. “It’s not like that.”
Robbie leaned forward. “So tell us like it is. I know Carla fucked you over. I know you want to get married while Grandfa can enjoy it, but is this the right thing to do for you?”
“Robbie, I have no idea what the right thing for me is, right now. This seems like the best option.” The shrug I gave almost felt painful. “It stops Lady S from being on my case about proving I’m a responsible adult.”
“Responsible adults don’t marry someone just to solve a problem. There’s this thing called love – you might’ve heard of it.” Gus was trying to hide his laughter. “Who’s the lucky woman?”
I looked at the ceiling. “It doesn’t matter. You know why I’m doing this…”
“At least leave it a few months. Let everyone get over you and Carla breaking up and then it might seem believable.” Gus had his serious voice on now, the one I imagined he used with patients before he removed an organ or something.
“We’re putting the date back a few weeks.” This was something Imogen and I had decided on this afternoon via text. The woman liked a plan, a detailed plan. I had a feeling that the contract she drew up would be meticulous.
“How many weeks is a few?” Angus the precise did his usual analysis.
“Two.”
“Two.” Gus repeated the words if it tasted of bleach. “You said a few weeks.”
“I may have exaggerated.”
Robbie toyed with his napkin, folding it into something that resembled a penis. “Rewind a little. Who’s the lucky woman?”
“Imogen Green.”
Luckily, the wine that spurted from Gus’ mouth landed straight on Robbie instead of me.
“For fuck’s sake, Angus!” Robbie used the penis-napkin to wipe down his shirt. “What happened to you to become so fucking uncouth?”
“I married a woman who taught me how to be human.” He turned his head from Robbie. “Our solicitor Imogen? Imogen who you went to school with?”
“Unless you know another Imogen Green who suggested she was the answer to pretty much all my current problems, yes.”
Gus looked like he was chewing on his tongue.
Robbie sniffed, giving up on wiping off the wine. “Genius move. You tell people that you reconnected with Imogen, remembered how much you crushed on her as a teen, and that made you end things with Carla. Perfect story. Those who liked the romance between you and Carla will be suckered into this teenaged-friends-become-lovers thing. Perfect.”
Gus looked slightly stunned at Robbie, his brow furrowed. “What shit have you been reading?”
Robbie just smiled. “But what happens when it’s over? Because it will be over at some point.”
“We give it a year. Then part ways.” I didn’t want to focus too much on that.
“Then you look like an even bigger tosser to Lady S with a failed marriage behind you. Unless Imogen takes the blame.” Robbie was becoming far too involved in the finer details here.
Gus stared at the bottle of wine. “You sure you don’t want some of this? It might help you see sense.”
I rubbed my face with my hands. “Seriously, Imogen offered to marry me. Lady S gets her wedding; Grandfa gets to see me be happy. We’re not having a big society thing like we planned with Carla; we’ve got a good excuse to keep it small.”
“Are you still having it in London? When the media get word of you and Carla splitting, they’ll be all over this like shit on a shoe.”
I had no idea where Gus learned these things. It wasn’t from our mother.
“We haven’t decided yet, but I’m going to suggest Scotland. Grandfa’s estate. The house was approved for weddings a decade ago, and it’s quiet enough. Plus, he wouldn’t have to travel.” This was pretty much all I’d thought about since I’d said goodbye to Imogen.
Gus nodded. “Okay. I still think this is the second craziest idea you had after getting engaged to Carla, but you’re set on it. What do you want us to do?”
“Make sure Lady Soames believes the story. Stick up for me.” I’d need it, because the grilling I’d get from her would make any challenge from my brothers look like daisies.
“And pick up the pieces when he actually falls in love with her and it all becomes real.” Robbie laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “Just think, you could actually fall for the person you’re marrying.”
I shook my head. There was no chance of that happening. My life was hardly the sort that someone would want to sign up for, unless they were only hoping for a decent pay out, something I’d always been wary of. Maybe it was what had put me off finding someone I could be serious about.
But Imogen had her own money, her career, and an independent streak a mile and half wide. She also wouldn’t be interested in what my world had to offer.
Gus folded his arms. “I’d love to see you fall for her, then she wasn’t interested. That’d make my month.”
“No chance of that.” Somehow the words felt a little hollow.
My mother agreed to meet me at the Alexandra Street Hotel. The fact she had to agree told me everything I needed to know about her current mood towards me. She hadn’t been a cold mother when we were younger: there had been bedtime stories and days out, and holidays where she’d built sandcastles with us. But as young adults, and now fully grown ones – physically anyway – her expectations were high. Lady S was wrapped in decorum and societal expectations, and she expected us to be also. The fact I was calling off a wedding with just a few weeks’ notice was a very, very big blot on my copy book, and I had the feeling she’d rather I pretended I didn’t exist for a good few weeks.
She’d booked a private room for the afternoon, probably to meet with her society friends and moderate the sympathy they wanted to show at my failed attempt at marriage, or getting married. For Lady S, managing society was a game of chess – one she thoroughly enjoyed – but occasionally someone threw out a move that stumped her.
I gritted my teeth and braced myself for the iciest of shoulders as I was shown to the room where she was holding court, another member of the hotel’s staff refreshing the teapot and providing a new china cup.
“Good morning, mother.” I sat myself down in front of her. “How was your journey yesterday?”
She eyed me as if I’d just offered her a line of cocaine.
“Let’s not put on the manners, Noah. We have other things to discuss and Lady Catherine’s arriving here in three quarters of an hour. I’d rather you didn’t cross paths seeing as she was friends with Carla’s mother.” She shook her head. “Noah, what exactly happened? And I’d like the truth. I’ve already heard one story from Carla.”
The breath I took was deep, slightly infilled with what ever scent the hotel was filtering through its ventilation. I tried to focus on that rather than the lies I was about to tell.
I’d managed to speak to Carla last night, after discussing pretty much everything with my brothers. I’d told her about Imogen; that she was someone at school I’d been friends with, rather than just my solicitor. Her picking at that had been easily resolved. When I’d reminded her about the photo I’d taken she’d agreed on the line that we’d actually ended our relationship a couple of months ago, which meant if Declan Duncan decided to comment on his relationship with Carla, she’d escape being labelled a cheat.
It was the picture that sold it.
Not that I would’ve shared it with anyone from the media, but it would’ve been interesting for Carla’s parents if it had turned up in their inbox.
I wasn’t beyond a little blackmail.
“Carla and I thought a couple of months ago that we weren’t going to work out. We’ve not been together since then, figuring some time apart would help us decide if we really wanted to be together or not. We’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to work between us.” I presented carefully, speaking slowly, as if these words were planned. Lady S had accepted our babblings as children; as adults, our words were meant to be carefully chosen.
The words had been very carefully chosen.
Lady S said nothing at first, her chin tipping up, the cup of tea collected from in front of her and sipped from.
I waited, not wanting to information dump about Imogen yet.
“I must say, this is rather a relief. It’s very inconvenient, of course, given that it’s mere weeks until you were due to get married, but I had been getting my doubts about Carla.” She put the cup down. “I was worried she’d done something to hurt you.”
The breath I’d been holding was let free. Sometimes Lady S did take on the mantle of a parent.
“No. I don’t think she could. We got involved for the wrong reasons.” I did not want to elaborate. “However, as you know, we’ve gone our separate ways.”
“Will Carla be dignified about this? I know she likes to court the press somewhat.” My mother sat back a little in her chair. A waiter arrived with a selection of cakes, probably for her next guest.
I thought of the photo I’d taken. Carla knew damn well if she spoke out of turn, that photo would be enough for all her allowances to be cut. “She will be. She’s a little more upset than I am, but she understands. We both said a couple of months ago that we’d rushed into making a commitment. At least we know now rather than two months after the wedding.”
“This is true. People are generally sympathetic about a wedding cancellation and less so about a divorce.” She gave a small nod, as if I was being dismissed.