The Wedding Agreement (The Green Family Series Book 1)

by Annie Dyer

  My mother would only take one side. Mine. At least once she’d heard my side of it.

  “What the fuck?” Gus sat down on the bar stool next to mine. “What’s happened?”

  I unlocked my phone and opened the photos, showing him the last one taken.

  “Is he from that reality TV show – Made in…”

  “Please don’t tell me you watch that.” I snatched my phone back. “But yeah, I think so.”

  Gus shrugged. “Glad you caught her out now and not after you’d gone down the aisle.”

  “It wasn’t going to happen anyway after my solicitor got her amended pre-nup back.” I gestured to the bartender for two more whiskies. I felt more sober since Gus had walked in.

  Both my older brothers had given me my fair share of shit over the years but being able to rely on them was never in question. I had a clusterfuck of a situation to sort out, but they would both be there to offer support.

  And get me home after too much alcohol.

  “What did she want?”

  “The house if we divorced. And she stipulated a monthly allowance while we were married.”

  He patted my shoulder. “There are cheaper brides out there.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Seriously, Vivi’s saved me money. Although we never discuss her shoe habit.” He took out his phone and sent a text. “I’m sending the Bat Signal to Robbie.”

  I nodded, feeling a little raw but a whole lot lighter than when I’d left the Callaghan Green office.

  Robbie arrived without Connor, still suited from work. Robbie was a financial analyst, working mainly as a consultant, so he could help out with the family stuff when needed, but he’d never wanted to sort out the properties and estates, which I got. No one in their right mind would enjoy dealing with boundary disputes with slightly psychopathic llama owners.

  “What’s up?” He pulled his tie off as he got to the bar, as if about to get involved in a scuffle.

  That would never happen. Robbie wouldn’t chance an injury to his good looks. When one of my ex-girlfriends had found out Robbie was gay, she’d almost cried.

  “Noah’s discovered Carla was after his money. He went round to have it out with her and found her giving a blow job to Declan Duncan.” Gus slapped me again on my back.

  “Declan from Made in…”

  “That one.” Gus said it with far too much fucking enthusiasm.

  “At least it wasn’t Jeremy. He’s such a manwhore.” Robbie frowned and looked at me. “You need to get yourself tested.”

  I shook my head. “Kept it wrapped.”

  “Still.” Now it was Robbie who slapped my back. What was it with all this fucking back slapping?

  “Have you told Lady S yet?” Gus eyed me, finishing his whisky. “And the publicist?”

  I shook my head. “Just you two. Although I should let the solicitor know. Fuck, the wedding.” I closed my eyes, thinking about all the arrangements that had been made, the guests that would need to be told, the cancellations.

  Grandfa.

  “You could just find another bride.” Gus’ voice made me open my eyes. “I’m sure someone will have a business designed to find lonely men the love of their lives.”

  “I’m not lonely. Fucker.” I rubbed my chin, feeling the stubble that I hadn’t bothered to shave today.

  Gus shrugged. “I did think Carla might’ve been good for you. You know, stopped you being pictured on dates with random women, maybe ending up with a surprise baby. I did hope you might’ve felt a bit more for her than her just being a pretty face and a decent body…”

  “She was good company…”. I tried to defend her although he had a point. “I didn’t think it would last, but at least then I could’ve pulled the ‘tried it once, never again card’ when Lady S kept forcing her friend’s daughters at me.”

  Robbie shrugged. “Find a boyfriend. That ended all my problems.”

  Gus and I laughed, although it hadn’t been that straightforward. Or that painless.

  “Yeah, I don’t think my fascination with tits is going to go away any time soon.” I looked at my empty glass. “Shall we order another?”

  “Already on it.” Robbie grinned, then pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “I’ve just missed a call from Dad.”

  Dad didn’t call us. He got Lady S to do it. He sent the occasional text, rarely with spaces and no punctuation, which usually resulted in us calling him back, which was how he liked it.

  Robbie had his phone to his ear, his face looking more serious every second. Both Gus and I were silent, watching his expression as if we were trying to read from it what was being said.

  “I’m with them both now. I’ll tell them and we’ll head straight up to Inverness.” Robbie looked from me to Gus, shaking his head slightly. “We’ll see you and Ma there.”

  We rarely referred to our mother as ‘ma’. She wasn’t a ma, more of a ma’am, and definitely a ladyship. While none of us had ever doubted that she loved us – she had her odd ways of showing it – she wasn’t maternal. It was only when something painful had happened we used that name.

  Robbie put his phone away. “Grandfa’s had a fall. He’s in hospital getting checked out.”

  I felt sick. The whisky I’d drunk wanting to come back up, the buzz replaced by a feeling of fear of time running out.

  “Let’s go.” I got off the bar stool, steadying my stance. “And hope this day of epic shit doesn’t get any worse.”

  Chapter Four

  Imogen

  It hadn’t taken long to get used to living in London. I’d rented an apartment with my sisters, Maven and Catrin, which was both fun and annoying in equal parts. It was in Southwark, so I didn’t have far to walk to the offices, and we’d rediscovered a city that we’d all spent plenty of time in while we were growing up and when we’d visited our family there.

  My sisters were developing their own lives, and although we lived together, we didn’t spend much time socialising. Maven had joined a theatre as creative director and was in the process of casting for her first production, which meant most of her free time was spent with her colleagues, or people in that industry. Catrin was working for an art gallery and spent her time at private viewings or opening nights. She was generally working late and sleeping in, so we could go a couple of weeks without seeing each other, especially if she had to go to Manchester or Dublin to view art there.

  I ended up gravitating to Georgia and Victoria. Georgia was close to me in age, and we had a fascination with boy bands in common. We worked in the same department, and I’d always gotten along with Seph. By default, I ended up spending time with Max and Vic, because Seph and Max, as much as they bickered like two old women over the last handbag in a sale, actually liked each other’s company.

  “How’s the boundary dispute?” Max asked as we took seats round his dining table. Baby Lucy was fast asleep, and Rose, Georgia’s daughter, was almost asleep whilst watching cartoons on the TV in the lounge. It was Thursday night, and the week had flown by so far, with no more interrogations about my made-up mystery man. I’d headed over to Max and Vic’s for a Chinese takeaway after Seph had whinged about not wanting to cook – I still had no idea how that resulted in us all being at Max’s.

  “I think I’ve found something out. I was looking at the old boundary maps yesterday, and I think I’ve found a discrepancy. I need to talk it through with the client and see if they’ve any documentation around the dividing up of a pathway from about forty years ago.” I’d actually spent about two hours in my element digging through all of that, which Seph knew already and had teased me about my level of geekiness. He preferred the nasty contractual disputes, while I was head over heels for anything to do with land and property.

  Georgia speared a dumpling with her fork. “So glad you got that case.” She shot me a grin. “You know the client, right?”

  “We went to school together. He was in the year above.” I’d thought about Noah way too much in the last
couple of days. My schoolgirl crush had returned, with a side of something that wasn’t completely schoolgirl. I’d allowed myself a few minutes of imagining what Noah was like under the suit he’d worn and had searched for him online. He was engaged to a social media influencer, whose family were wealthy though a technology firm her father had set up a couple of decades ago. Although according to Claire, that engagement looked to be over.

  “He was definitely a ten.” Georgia nodded, attacking another dumpling.

  “Who was a ten?” Seph’s head spun round.

  Georgia’s smile was sly. “Noah Soames. He’s how I’d imagine a modern-day Jane Austen hero to be.”

  I heard Victoria swallow a choke of laughter.

  “He’s Immy’s client, isn’t he?” Seph had lost his smile. “When did you see him?”

  Georgia nodded, now the picture of innocence. “On Monday when he came in. I think half the office was trying to catch a glimpse. He reminds me of Bingley in Pride and Prejudice, only a lot more handsome. And did you see his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up?” She fanned herself with her hand.

  Seph’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Why were you looking at his forearms? Are forearms a thing now?”

  Max was convulsing with silent laughter. Victoria looked as if she was actually choking. I was remembering Noah’s forearms.

  “Forearms have always been a thing, honey, but don’t worry. Yours are pretty good.” Georgia patted his hand. “Not quite in the same league as Noah’s, but I’m sure you can find out what exercises he does to get that definition.”

  Seph garbled something that sounded like an animal giving birth. Max was now clutching the table to avoid rolling on the floor.

  The door opened and Rose stood there, carrying a bear that looked familiar. “Mummy, why does Seph look like he’s about to burst?”

  Georgia’s straight face that must’ve taken a miracle to hold broke, and she howled with laughter.

  Seph shook his head, pulling her off her chair and onto his lap, whispering something into her ear that was probably a threat that was also very much a promise, making me feel all happy for them.

  And sad at the same time. I was the single one at the table again, and I felt again that it would be nice to have someone there with me, to have that partnership. Someone to whisper with.

  We finished eating, Rose happy that Seph wasn’t dying of some strange illness, and Max pulled himself together enough to eat all the crispy beef before Seph could get round to it, which turned them both into overgrown schoolboys.

  I slipped away after helping to load the dishwasher to check my phone, responding to a message from Maven, who was trying to get us all to go out for a meal as our older sister, Lainey, was down in London next weekend.

  It was rare, when I wasn’t at work, to spend too much time considering actions I was about to take. I started up a new message and found Noah’s contact details that I’d stored when I’d taken on his case.

  Think I might’ve found a way to sort this boundary dispute quickly. – Imogen.

  I pressed send without thinking about it. It would be good news for him, no obligation to respond, and remind him that we needed to meet again after Monday’s meeting was interrupted.

  My phone was just about back in my bag when it started to vibrate, the ringer on silent. Noah’s name flashed up on the screen.

  I answered it quickly, stepping outside into the garden to take the call away from the prying ears of my Tigger-like cousin.

  “Hey, I hope you’re not still at work.” Noah’s voice sounded like skin against silk.

  “No. I’ve just had dinner at Max’s. Thought I’d just give you a quick update. How did everything go after the pre-nup stuff on Monday?” I kept my tone light, chatty.

  Friendly.

  His laugh was telling. “I don’t need a pre-nup anymore.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s a long story that I won’t bore you with. I’m sorry I haven’t returned your email; I’m usually better at responding. My grandfather had a fall, and I went up to Scotland to check on him. I’ve just got back home, so do you want to meet tomorrow?” There was no laughter in his voice right now.

  “I’m so sorry about your grandfather – is he okay?” My heart ached for him. I remembered him talking about his grandfather a couple of times at school. In fact, I remembered seeing him pick Noah up from school one holiday.

  There was a sigh. “Yes, the fall wasn’t great, but there’s no lasting damage. He has dementia though, and he’s deteriorating.” There was another sigh. “To be honest, meeting tomorrow to go over this dispute will give me something else to focus on. I’d had another letter from the neighbours which you probably need to see too.”

  “Sure. I can do tomorrow afternoon. Want to meet for a late lunch?” I kept my voice light and didn’t pry.

  “Thanks, Imogen. That would be great.” I heard water in the background, maybe the sound of a shower being turned on. “How about Shawcrosses?”

  It was a restaurant best described as upmarket. It would require my favourite shoes, and a bit more sass than usual. “That would be great. Two?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  I said my goodbyes and hung up, catching sight of Georgia hovering at the window and watching me. Her hand went to her ear, mocking a phone and making a moony face.

  She opened the door. “Was that your mystery man you were gushing over? I want the details.”

  “No details to share.” But I didn’t deny it. “When there are some, I’ll let you know.”

  Shawcrosses was discreet, subtle and calming. The idea was you focused on the food and your company, rather than elaborate décor. The walls were grey wallpaper with a fine repetitive pattern, the furniture mahogany with plain upholstery and the floors polished wood.

  I’d eaten here before a couple of times, once with my aunt and uncle, and another time with an old school friend whose family owned a stake in it. The food would be good, and the service discreet. This wasn’t where you came to be seen.

  I had done a bit of an online stalk of Noah, wanting to see what I’d missed during the last few years. Gossip mags weren’t my thing; I’d never had time for them, between work and my sisters, plus trying to have something of a social life, reading about the rich and famous wasn’t something on my to do list.

  He’d appeared more than what I’d expected, for someone who, when he was younger, hadn’t wanted to be known for who his family was. There were photos of him with various models, some at openings of restaurants or galleries, the sort of places where having celebrities would draw a crowd. There were a few of him at movie premieres in London, usually with a woman who was also a minor celebrity. The last six months, there had been fewer photos or mentions, and he was only pictured with his fiancée, Carla Corrigan, the daughter of an entrepreneur who’d invested in a technology firm in the nineties and had spun gold from straw with it. She was a social media influencer, had been in a couple of minor roles in TV series that had been filmed in the UK, and was rumoured to be named as a contestant on a reality show. She was beautiful, enough to make me feel dowdy and regretting eating the chocolate éclair the day before.

  She also wasn’t what I expected Noah to want in a long-term partner, but maybe I was being judgemental.

  I arrived first, not because Noah was late, but because I was consistently early. I despised rushing, and always worked on the idea that something would happen to make me late, which meant I was always fifteen minutes early. Leaving my phone in my bag – the new Mulberry Bayswater I’d treated myself to – I pulled out the book I was reading. Being early often meant I had a few minutes to kill while I waited, and while I could’ve spent those minutes checking the never-ending influx of emails, I preferred a good book.

  I was addicted to romances and mysteries – this was a mystery and the latest in a series I was addicted to had just been published. My cousin Payton’s husband, Owen, owned se
veral bookstores, and tomorrow night the author was doing a Q and A session at one, then signing copies of her books. To say I was excited was an understatement, and I was desperate to finish the book beforehand.

  Noah’s presence went unnoticed by me, although I had no idea how long for. The detective in my book had just narrowly avoided being shot, and I was engrossed in that. It was only Noah’s polite cough that jerked my head up from the page and my eyes immediately latched onto his tall, broad stance.

  “Sorry, I was…”

  “Reading something that I clearly need to borrow.” He sat down at the table to the side of me. We were in a booth, with a curved high-back seat, covered in dark green leather, that surrounded almost three sides of the table. It was intimate and secluded, a place to talk business or have discreet discussion about affairs.

  Or read a book in peace.

  I tried not to notice how his shirt pulled across his shoulders, hinting at the biceps there. I was a sucker for arms on a man, my eyes magnetised to biceps and triceps, and that slight graze of muscle on a strong forearm.

  One of the reasons I liked visiting Severton to see my sister, Lainey, was the plethora of farmers and men who worked with their hands that lived there. It was a buffet of arm-porn. I’d indulged in a couple of one-night stands there, Lainey oblivious to them thankfully, but Severton was too far away to keep a relationship healthy, especially with my job.

  “It’s really good. Have you read any of hers before?” I showed him the front cover. “This series is one of my favourites.”

  “I’ve read one of them and have another by my bed.” He moved the book towards him, turning it over to read the blurb. “This looks good.”

  “It really is. The author’s doing a signing tomorrow at Cases in Covent Garden. If you want to go, I can get you a ticket.” I should’ve been embarrassed about my geeky enthusiasm for an author signing, but I’d long since passed the point of hiding what I enjoyed. If someone thought it weird or strange, that was their problem, not mine. I should also be bothered about how I’d just asked someone I hadn’t seen for over a decade to go out with me somewhere, but I wasn’t.