The Wedding Agreement (The Green Family Series Book 1)

by Annie Dyer

  “His memory?”

  She shook her head. “Kind of, but not in the way you think. I can deal with him not knowing my name, or asking where your grandmother is. That’s workable. For me, it’s communication. Some of the time, he can’t converse, he forgets what’s just been said, or what he wants to say, and he’ll sometimes cover it up by saying something irrelevant, which frustrates him. He can’t always express what he thinks or how he feels, which is where the temper sometimes comes from.” She looked at me like she sometimes did my nephew and niece, as if I’d done something really stupid. “It’s about communication, and that’s where you’ve both buggered up.”

  “We talked all the time…”

  “Not about how you felt, Noah. It isn’t just about sex, you know that. It’s about the ups and downs of how you feel. Sex is a great sticking plaster, but it isn’t the basis for a relationship, although it’s important, don’t get me wrong. Have you told her how you feel?”

  “I’ve said I don’t want to end the marriage after twelve months.” She’d taken the whole agreement thing well. I didn’t think there was much I could do that would surprise her anymore.

  “But have you told her you love her?”

  “Only when she was sleeping.”

  She made a frustrated noise and shook her head. “Why are men so stupid?”

  “But she didn’t tell me how she felt either. You can’t just blame me.” Now I’d slipped into petulant child mode. A new low. “But, why would she? I said stuff, but I don’t think it was ever, I don’t know, said seriously.”

  Caroline nodded. “Just be honest with her. Neither of you have done anything to fall out over. You just haven’t talked. It’s only when you can’t communicate you realise just how important it is.”

  It was after that conversation I phoned Callaghan Green, requesting an appointment with my wife the following day. I knew what she’d say – conflict of interest and all of that, but I also knew she wouldn’t drop her professional persona and refuse to do it.

  I knew what Catrin had said about giving her time, and maybe another day would’ve been better, but I also didn’t want her to think I was letting her go. If tomorrow she told me she needed more space, or we needed to reverse back to dating and getting to know each other more that way, then we would.

  The bed felt too big when I got in it. The sheets smelled of her body lotion, the room was too still, the air too quiet, and I never realised how much I loved her being around.

  She’d spent a couple of nights away with work, and a weekend with her sisters and some of her cousins at a spa in Bath, but that had been different. She’d been coming home. Tonight I wasn’t sure if I’d have another night where I fell asleep with her, or woke up with her next to me, and it made me feel empty.

  I tried to spread out in my bed, the way I used to before she’d moved in, but that felt wrong, as if something was missing, because something was.

  When I woke, after a sleep that was filled with dreams about something bad lurking but I didn’t know what, I immediately reached for her, the realisation painful that she wasn’t there.

  My phone had three messages, one from Catrin, another from Gus, and the last from Imogen.

  It was hers I opened first.

  Will you meet me at the coffee shop instead? I don’t want to get upset at work. x

  It had only just been sent.

  I’m not going to do anything to upset you. I hope not anyway x

  I remembered what Caroline had said, about communication. It wouldn’t hurt to start now.

  I don’t like waking without you. Or going to sleep without you. It doesn’t feel right x

  I pressed send without reading it back.

  The dots appeared immediately.

  I didn’t sleep. That bed at the apartment doesn’t feel like mine anymore x

  Because it isn’t yours x

  I waited for her response. None came, and I wondered if it had been too much.

  I’d rather your bed be the one here, with me. Can we meet earlier? X

  The dots were there this time, stopping only briefly, then carrying on. I watched the screen, unable to look at anything else.

  Yes. I’ll see you at the office – forty-five minutes? What’s it about? I think I know x

  There’s an agreement we made. It needs updating, at least on my part. See you there x

  I checked the other messages. Gus’ was some football transfer news, a striker from the team he pretended to support moving to Manchester Athletic. Catrin’s was more interesting.

  She’s missing you. Don’t fuck this up.

  I smiled. I had no intention of doing that. I just hoped that she felt the same way about me as I did about her.

  I showered and dressed quickly, managing to get there for before eight, earlier than we’d agreed.

  It was Georgia who let me in, smiling brightly but looking shattered. “Don’t ask.”

  “Seph keep you up all night?”

  She glowered rather than glowed. “Both of them – him and Rose – have a cough. A bad one. Ask who’s the worst patient.”

  “I don’t think I need to.”

  She nodded firmly. “You know Im can’t represent you now you’re married? That’s why your cases have flipped to me.”

  “I know. It isn’t work related. Not directly.”

  Her grin was wide. “This some sort of kinky role play, then?”

  I just laughed. Imogen clearly hadn’t told Georgia what had happened, and I wasn’t about to disclose anything.

  I followed her through to the small meeting room, where I’d first seen Imogen Green five months ago, needing to resolve a boundary dispute.

  This meeting was a hell of a lot more important.

  Imogen was there two minutes early. I stood up as soon as she entered the meeting room, looking over every inch of her to see how okay she was. Her eyes looked puffy and she didn’t have lipstick on, but her trousers and shirt were pristine as usual. She looked tired. I expected she was thinking the same about me.

  I didn’t go to her and hold her, which was what I wanted to do. Or pick her up and take her home, because this had to be her choice. I could only voice what I wanted.

  She sat down opposite me, taking a bottle of water that Georgia had left out. “The agreement we made. I’ve been giving it some thought too.”

  I nodded. “Do you want to go first, or shall I?”

  “You?”

  “Okay. You saw the video I took when we were in the Maldives?”

  She nodded. “I did. Not until yesterday. I was looking at photos of us together. From the wedding, and you know, selfies we took. There were some good ones. I didn’t know that was how you felt about me.” She looked up from the table to meet my eyes. “Do you still feel that way?”

  “Very much so. And I should’ve told you sooner.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I thought you knew. When I was saying about extending the agreement I thought you realised what I meant, and I suppose I was worried too in case you didn’t feel the same.” If I could’ve ripped my heart out right then and given it her, I would, even with the chance she’d throw it back in my face.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “The agreement…”

  I needed her to say something back, to tell me she felt the same.

  “Look, I understand if you want out. The way we met was unconventional, the reasons we got married certainly nothing like the love story you deserve, but if you give me a chance, I’ll start writing that love story for you. Let me take you out on dates and get to know each other how we should’ve in the first place. Let’s rewrite the whole bloody agreement, Imogen. That’s how I feel. But I don’t know how you feel.”

  She wiped her eyes and I felt like the biggest bastard in the world.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you…”

  “You haven’t. You really haven’t.” She put her hands face down on the desk and looked at me. “Do you think I don’
t make you a priority?”

  I shook my head. “You’ve been making me a priority since the day we made that agreement. I shouldn't have said what I did…”

  “I was saying it. I was frustrated, and worried you wanted to be with someone like Shona McAdam instead of someone like me.”

  “I don’t want to be with someone like you, Imogen. I want to be with you. I love having you around. I love you living with me. I love waking up with you. I can even live with having your make-up shit lying around in the bathroom, because guess what? I’m in love with you.” I paused, watching her. “If you don’t feel the same, then I understand. We’ll end the agreement and wish each other the best of luck.”

  I waited. Watched as her face brightened, and her mouth broke out into a wide smile.

  “We do need to end the agreement. But not because I don’t feel the same. I do. I knew I was in love with you before we got married, I’ve just been worried – scared – that I was only temporary and not good enough for what you needed.” Her tears were falling now, something I couldn’t stand.

  I stood up, my chair almost falling over the rate I pushed it back, and walked round the table to get to her. She was standing before I reached her, walking into my clasp, and as soon as I was holding her, her arms around my neck, the world steadied.

  For the first time in a day and a half I could breathe.

  “I love you.” The words now felt easy to say. “I love you and I want to make this work. The only agreement I need is our wedding vows, because I meant them the day I said them.”

  She nuzzled into my chest, the wet of her tears soaking through.

  “Please stop crying now. I can’t stand you crying like this.” I held her closer, wondering if there was a magic word to stop it.

  She moved her head back and laughed. “They’re happy tears, I promise. Can we go home? I booked today off as leave and I really want to go home.” She moved a hand up to grasp at my shirt, pulling it gently.

  “We can go home. Do you need to take anything? Maybe all the make-up and stuff for our bathroom?”

  “I’ll get Cat to drop it off. Can you please not move out of our bathroom?”

  I laughed, moving a strand of hair out of her face. “If you can get a couple of boxes to keep your stuff in.”

  “We’ll negotiate.”

  I nodded. “We will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Imogen

  We slipped out of the offices, going unseen apart from by Georgia, who just looked at us curiously. There would be some explaining to do at some point, a story to tell, where she would understand and be glad I was happy. One of the things I thought about last night was how Noah had fit so well with my family, how easily he got along with them. The boyfriends I’d had before had either shied away, or tried too hard, where Noah slotted in.

  We hailed a cab, still holding onto each other, still touching. All the journey back in rush hour London traffic we touched, his arm around me, my hand on his thigh, a stolen kiss because why wouldn’t we?

  It felt like coming home when I unlocked the front door, Noah asking me to do it and I knew why. This wasn’t about him letting me in, this was about me being a part of it, his life. His home.

  Our home.

  But of course, he didn’t let me. I was scooped up and carried over the threshold, holding onto him and giggling, because everything in our world was going to be right.

  “I’m not taking you straight to bed.” He put me down on the sofa in the kitchen. “We do need to talk. Not about everything, but we need to know what page we’re both on. I’ll make tea.”

  I watched him move around the kitchen, relief and euphoria a heady mix in my veins now I was back here.

  “I don’t want a time limit on it. If we’re married, that’s it.” I started off, trying to swallow the lump that was still stuck in my throat.

  “Agreed. I want you to stop worrying about not being at things with me. If I really want you there, I’ll say and give you plenty of notice.”

  “I can do that.” I’d already made my mind up – not because Noah would expect that, but because I needed to see myself creating that balance so I wasn’t beating myself up about not supporting him.

  He poured the hot water into a teapot that had been a wedding gift from his grandfather and Caroline, letting it brew because neither of us liked it weak.

  “But I want you to want me to be there.” I’d realised that him not being in the slightest bit angry at me not making it to the gallery had annoyed me. “Tell me you want me there when you do. I want to be wanted.”

  He turned around and nodded. “Okay. But I’ll feel like I’m putting your job second.”

  I shook my head. “Just make sure it’s not all the time. Don’t be so understanding.”

  “I told you I’d need clear instructions. That hasn’t changed.”

  “There’s a lot in the agreement that was good guidance.” We’d come at this partnership in a logical way.

  I watched him get the milk out of the fridge, my eyes lingering on his ass.

  My husband had a superb ass.

  He turned around, eyes narrowed, milk in hand. “Were you eyeing me up then?”

  “Might’ve been.”

  He shook his head. “Terrible. Objectified by your wife…”

  I laughed, my body feeling less tense by the minute. “We share the bathroom.”

  “Fine. But if I get cross because your products are everywhere, don’t be surprised. It’s a form of torture.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll try to be tidier.”

  He poured the tea, topping it up with milk, then brought it over to the coffee table, sitting down next to me on the sofa.

  I leaned into him, putting my legs up on the sofa, resting my back against his chest. His arms wrapped around me and he pressed a kiss to my head. “I don’t want you to change. I just want to work at this, and for us to be happy together.”

  “Same.” I spun my body round so I was facing him, his lips finally finding mine. Spending two nights apart, having an argument, questioning what we were doing, clearly hadn’t stopped what we had between us.

  He was like a magnet and I was magnetised, only for him. Just for him.

  The kiss was slow, deep, as if time had stood still. We nipped and pecked, our hands moving languidly over each other, like they’d forgotten how we felt and needed to memorise the surface of our skin.

  My shirt was unbuttoned. His polo shirt removed. Those large hands cupped my breasts over my bra, my nipples hardening, lending themselves to him pinching at them.

  I traced my fingers along the ridges of his abs, the light touch making him shudder. Slow, deliberate, steady. We didn’t need to have the sex from the first time on our wedding night, there was no rush, because we had the rest of our lives to do this.

  I pressed a kiss to his chest, feeling my bra being undone. I raised my body up, allowing the bra to slip down my arms, freeing my breasts.

  Noah’s gasp was audible, his expression darkening as he took in the sight of my tits, nipples erect for him, caused by him. His fingers trailed over each one, brushing over the tips, making it molten between my legs.

  He pulled me onto his lap, one hand busying at the buttons of my pants, the other high on my back, bringing my chest to his lips as he took a nipple in his mouth, sucking deliciously hard.

  Pants opened, he cupped my sex, pressing against it. I knew he’d find my underwear damp with arousal, even before he slipped his fingers inside to my opening, toying there, teasing.

  “So fucking wet,” he said, his mouth releasing my nipple. “No one else gets to touch you here. Or do this.” He pushed a single finger inside, curling it. “It’s only me who gets to fuck you with their fingers, or their cock. Only me who gets to come inside you.” He pushed a second finger in, using the base of his hand to rub against my clit through my underwear.

  I nodded, words not something I could conjure up right now. When I came it was with my head tipped ba
ck, my pussy contracting hard and making my whole body writhe.

  “Fuck.” He looked at me through heavy-lidded eyes, his fingers still in me. “You’re fucking beautiful when you come like that. You’re beautiful all the time, but especially then.”

  He moved his fingers out of me, leaving me feeling empty even though I’d just come.

  “Take your pants off, Imogen.” He undid his as he gave the instruction. “Then I want you to lay back, your legs spread for me.”

  I did as he said, watching as he stripped naked, fisting his cock while he looked at my bare tits and sex, spread for him.

  He dropped over me, his mouth going straight to my breasts, licking and sucking at them, while I put my palm to his hard cock, feeling the silk against steel, my legs parting wider.

  I was ready for him.

  I needed him.

  He tugged at my nipple with his teeth, the slight bite of pain making me moan, making me move my hips to urge him on, to encourage him to enter me with his hard cock.

  His mouth came back to mine and this time there was nothing soft about the kiss. It was possessive and demanding, owning me, and I gave happily. He slipped a hand between us, guiding his erection to the place I wanted it most and pushed into me smoothly, in one movement.

  I was filled by him, taking everything he gave. He held onto the arm of the sofa, the other hand on my hip, giving long, deep thrusts, each one taking me closer and closer to that glorious precipice.

  His body tensed, his torso rising higher and his movements less deep, staying further inside me.

  My orgasm was triggered by his, his cock feeling bigger inside me, harder than before, and everything clenched. I held onto him as if I was about to be drowned by the sensations, feeling him come inside me, my legs wrapping around him, and his body half collapsing on mine.

  “I love you. I know you shouldn’t say it after sex, so I’ll tell you again later.” Noah pressed a kiss to my neck.

  I giggled, making him laugh too with the shared vibrations. “I love you. And it’s amazing to hear you say it.”