The Wedding Pact

by Isla Gordon

‘Abe!’

  ‘Hello, August.’

  ‘M-merry Christmas,’ she stammered. It had been a while since she’d seen him, the last time being when he was in her apartment, and she’d rested her head on his shoulder. Since then, she’d felt his distance, noticed he hadn’t been around as much, missed him finding reasons to text her, and vice versa. He was such an unexpected sight on the corridor; one, because she hadn’t been expecting to see anyone out here, as most the residents were safely (or not safely) in her flat, and two, because she’d come out here for a breather, and not to have her breath taken away.

  He looked relaxed in dark jeans, Nike trainers and a grey hoodie. His sandy hair seemed a little longer now, and he was a little stubblier, but not in a too-busy-to-shave way, more in a, I’m-just-taking-a-few-days-to-chill way. He stopped, right in front of her, his hand on the bannister, his body close.

  ‘Merry Christmas to you,’ he replied. And then, quietly, ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘I’m good,’ she smiled, her gaze falling on his lips. She saw Abe glance at her door, where the sound of Jackson 5’s ‘Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town’ could be heard within.

  ‘We’re having a little Christmas party, mainly for friends … but um, some neighbours have shown up too. Would you like to come in?’

  He hesitated. ‘Well, I’m just on way down to the coffee shop at the end of the street to get Mum some pastries. Do you want anything?’

  ‘They’re open now?’

  ‘It’s Thursday, late night shopping. If I’m remembering correctly from last year, they stay open late too. Come with me if you like.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ she paused. How she’d love a walk down the hill right now, a bit of cold air and space to think, but she couldn’t leave Flynn dealing with the guests on his own. ‘I’d better stay. But drop in on your way back past, it’s good to see you.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said.

  ‘I hope we aren’t being too noisy for your mum?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s funny, she was quite a social butterfly once but prefers quiet now; that’s why she won’t have come down. She’ll have liked that you were all getting together though.’

  ‘I can believe that, actually.’

  Abe smiled. ‘She’s not the battleaxe she appears to be. At least not all the time.’

  He waved goodbye and went off down the stairs, and August found herself watching him as he went. And hoping he came back.

  ‘Wahey, look what I’ve got!’ Callie shrieked. She’d legged it from the flat about five minutes ago and August pulled Flynn aside to seriously suggest locking the door behind her. She felt awful; this was supposed to be a stress-free, fun night for him and it had turned into a game of cat-and-mouse with the neighbours.

  It simply shouldn’t be this hard. Living a normal life in your own home shouldn’t be this hard.

  Then Callie had reappeared, throwing open August and Flynn’s front door again, and swinging a massive bunch of mistletoe over her head.

  ‘Yes,’ cried Kenny, and August caught him shooting a thrilled look between her and Flynn.

  Callie kicked off her heels and stood up on the sofa, attaching it to the light fixture hanging from their ceiling. As soon as it was secure, she pointed across the room at Joe and said, ‘You. Me. Under the mistletoe.’

  Expecting Joe to run a mile, August saw Flynn’s eyes widen when instead Joe strode over and said, ‘Why not, eh? It’s Christmas!’ and planted a wet one right on Callie’s mouth.

  ‘Callie … ’ Callie’s mum shook her head and drank Prosecco straight from the bottle.

  Bel and Steve hopped up and had a sweet smooch, where Steve dipped her like a Strictly Come Dancing finalist. This then prompted Allen to go one better with Maud, and lead her across the room in a tango before their own kiss.

  There was so much cheering, August was almost able to pretend she didn’t hear Callie’s shout of, ‘Now for the local newlyweds, come on Aug and Flynn!’

  August laughed, acting like she was oblivious and racing towards the kitchen where she collided with Abe, and—

  ‘Mrs Haverley!’ She looked from her landlady back to Abe, untangling herself from his arms, their hands lingering together a moment longer than necessary. ‘Abe! You both came! How lovely.’

  ‘It’s a very nice party,’ Mrs Haverley said, holding onto her son’s arm. ‘I should have warned you about Callie’s mistletoe obsession though. It was hung all over the building last year.’

  The landlady looked tired, paler and more fragile than she had when August had been up in her apartment, though she’d made an effort in a long, beaded skirt and pearl-scattered blouse. Her hair contained a jewelled candy cane slide and there was red lipstick on her mouth. Her hips swayed to the music.

  Abe looked into August’s eyes for a moment and August could have sworn something passed between them.

  But perhaps … perhaps it was just those snowball cocktails.

  All of a sudden Callie was beside her, dragging her away with a quick, ‘Merry Chrimbo!’ to Abe and Mrs Haverley. On Callie’s other hand was Flynn, and she dragged the two of them into the centre of the room.

  ‘Come on,’ Callie slurred. ‘Prove to me that love still exists; that you’re still happily married.’

  August jolted, meeting Callie’s eye, and wondering if she imagined the millisecond of determination in her friend’s face. She shook it off. Callie was tipsy, and already she was hungrily looking back over at Joe.

  August tried to hide her sigh and tilted her cheek to Flynn for him to peck, and the crowd went wild … with frustration.

  ‘Oh, give her a real kiss,’ shouted Callie. ‘She’s not your mum!’ Then she turned to her own mum and said, ‘Sorry, Mum.’

  Flynn murmured to her, ‘Well, who knew? There really is such a thing as an emergency kissing display.’

  But this wasn’t right. None of this felt right. The room seemed to spin with the lies and the pretence and there was Flynn in front of her – her Flynn, no attachments, waiting to kiss her. And across the room was Abe, who she barely knew but somehow felt she wanted to know more, and she couldn’t stop herself thinking of him watching her. Like he would be able to tell somehow. Like she didn’t want to kiss Flynn in front of him.

  August felt dizzy and exposed under the mistletoe.

  Chapter 63

  Flynn

  Flynn had been wanting to kiss her again for months, even if he’d only admitted it to himself recently. All his frustrations, all those other dates he’d gone on, all his pent-up feelings were a kiss away from drifting away, and he wanted to kiss her, not for show for others, but because he wanted to show her how he felt.

  But she stopped him with a hand on her chest, a ‘no’ in her eyes, and within seconds she’d stepped away from him and become the laughing, gracious party host yet again, batting away protestations at the lack of a kiss with topped up drinks and compliments on the guests’ dancing.

  Flynn tried to compose himself, pretending to laugh along at Callie and her mum try a lindy hop to ‘Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree’, but he was crushed. She was definitely pulling away.

  It seemed that was exactly what he had to do too, enough was enough. He had no right to ruin her night or make demands.

  She was perfectly okay without him.

  When the Christmas party ended, and for the next week, both August and Flynn were subdued. What was meant to be a carefree night had felt jarring and difficult. Warm Christmas wishes had felt wrapped up in ribbons of deceit.

  Flynn wasn’t angry at August, of course he wasn’t – far from it – but his feelings for her seemed impossible to live with.

  He needed to talk with her, tell her about what he planned to do, but there never seemed to be a good time. And when he finally did have space with just her, it was Christmas Day.

  They spent Christmas together, neither mentioning much about their absent parents, or about the strange void that had opened up between them. August and Flynn simply
whiled away the day with quiet companionship, watching Christmas movies and going to their rooms for phone calls with loved ones. At the end of the day, they took glasses of mulled wine together onto the wall outside the house, and when they draped a blanket over the two of them to keep out Jack Frost, it felt like the first time they’d been in close proximity since their near-kiss.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ Flynn had smiled, holding August’s gaze.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Flynn,’ she replied. And as her head came to rest on his shoulder, he wasn’t sure if everything was going to be all right, or whether his heart was going to slip and break at any moment.

  Chapter 64

  August

  New Year’s Eve had arrived, the 31st of December daylight hours whizzing by as if the calendar was excited to jump into January.

  While Flynn had to work, of course, August had spent a quiet day in the flat, trying to tell herself that these strange feelings of discontent would be gone soon, a new year always makes things feel fresh again.

  That evening, August was heading to a pub in town with Bel, Steve, Kenny, a few other familiar faces and friends, and hopefully Flynn, though at seven-thirty he text her to say he was a long way off finishing for the day.

  August called him in return. ‘That sucks,’ she said, upon him answering.

  Flynn sighed down the line. ‘Tell me about it; sometimes I wonder if they sacked ten people before they hired just me to cover the work.’

  ‘How long do you think you’ll need to stay for?’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll be done by ten … ’

  ‘Ten?’ she screeched. ‘But it’s New Year’s Eve! Can’t you just quit instead?’ She was only half joking, because how much happier would Flynn be if he just packed it all in?

  He laughed at that. ‘Unfortunately, I ended up living in a flatshare with a steep rent, so I’d better not.’

  ‘All right. Well, I’m heading out to meet the others soon, but come to the pub as soon as you can. I’ll text you if we move on anywhere else.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Enjoy lawyer-ing.’

  ‘Enjoy partying like it’s 1999.’

  ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘It’s not a party until you get there, okay?’

  On the other end of the phone she heard Flynn stifle a yawn before saying, ‘That’s definitely accurate.’

  ‘Are you and Flynn going to kiss again at midnight?’ Kenny asked later that night, a wicked glint in his eye, shouting to be heard over the crowd of New Year’s revellers inside the pub.

  ‘Not if he never makes it out of work,’ August shouted back, and then added quickly, ‘But still no, I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

  ‘Why?’ Kenny demanded.

  ‘We’re not in front of our landlady right now, or our neighbours, so why would we?’

  Kenny roared with laughter at this, causing Bel to turn around and ask, ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘She asked why on earth she would kiss Flynn at midnight!’

  Bel thumped Kenny on the leg. ‘Shut up, Kenny, or I’ll fire you.’ This just made him laugh more. ‘Any news on that flatmate of yours?’ she asked August.

  August checked her phone – 10.45 p.m. Poor Flynn, that boy was not getting even a drop of work-life balance at the moment.

  She went to the bar to get another drink for herself and Bel, and found herself wondering what Abe would be up to this evening over in London. Probably at the top of a skyscraper in the City at an eye-wateringly expensive bar, drinking champagne and surrounded by models.

  August shook her head, now she’d tried to picture it that seemed a highly unlikely thing for Abe to be doing.

  Perhaps he’d be reclining in a leather armchair with a cigar within the mahogany-panelled walls of an exclusive gentlemen’s club. No, that didn’t seem Abe’s scene either. In fact, did gentlemen’s clubs still exist? Were strip clubs now referred to as gentlemen’s clubs?

  ‘Two gin and tonics, please, and a couple of Budweisers,’ she said to the barman, removing thoughts of Abe, and how he might or might not be spending New Year’s Eve, from her head. She turned her attention back to her phone and sent Flynn a quick text: Still no sign of coming up for air? I’ve got a beer here waiting for you, but should I get it Deliveroo-d to your office so you can catch up?

  A message came back shortly after: Can you add a massive pizza to that order? I’m starving!

  Poor guy. Are you serious? she asked. I can send some food and drink your way for real if you like?

  No, don’t worry, I’ll hopefully leave soon.

  At eleven-fifteen, August made a decision. She picked up her coat and leaned over to Bel. ‘I’m going to go and drag him out of that office,’ she said, speaking loudly into her ear.

  ‘You’re leaving?’ Bel cried. ‘But it’s nearly midnight.’

  ‘I’ll try and be back before then, but if I’m not, you guys have a great time.’

  ‘Did you say you’re going to try and get Flynn?’

  ‘I’m going to try – even if I have to drag him from his work by the tie.’

  Bel raised her eyebrows at that image.

  August explained, ‘He’s had a tough year – a big break up six months ago, moving to the UK and not knowing anyone, his insane job, the whole Poppy debacle.’

  ‘I know, I know, it’s okay, go and meet him,’ Bel laughed.

  ‘I don’t feel responsible for him or anything, he’s a grown man,’ August clarified.

  ‘And he’s your friend. I’m not judging you; stop judging yourself.’

  ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘No, I don’t mind, go and drag him into the new year. If anyone can get him there, you can.’

  August left the pub, skittering past a group of women about to raise a toast of towering champagne flutes and into late night Bath. The ground was wet but the winter drizzle had paused and now the sky was clear and starry, suggesting it wouldn’t be coming back.

  Walking past pubs and restaurants with their doors open and revellers spilling onto pavements, August strode through the city she knew so well, weaving through short-cuts and via alleyways until she reached Flynn’s building. It was now twenty-five minutes to midnight, and she needed to get him out of there. It didn’t matter if the ground was shaky beneath them right now, he was still Flynn, and he’d held her up enough times since they’d moved in together, she wanted to support him now.

  August phoned him.

  ‘Hey, I’m so sorry—’ he started, but she cut him off.

  ‘Are you still at work?’

  ‘Yes, I really thought 10 p.m. seemed a long way off when we spoke earlier, but I’ve been lumped with a huge stack of case files for something high-profile going to court next week. Because of the skeleton staff covering the office between Christmas and New Year, there’s nobody else here. Then I realised there was something I hadn’t thought to check for and have had to go back over everything I’ve been doing today.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ she interrupted him.

  ‘I have to do it, August.’

  Gentler this time, she pressed, ‘Flynn, that’s enough. I’m outside.’

  Chapter 65

  Flynn

  Flynn, two floors up, looked through the window to see August standing on the street outside his office. Into the phone he said, ‘What are you doing here? You should be in the pub with your friends.’

  ‘You’re my friend too, and if you can’t make it to the pub, I’ve brought the pub to you.’ She held up two bottles of Budweiser she’d carried with her. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve, are you going to let me in?’ He saw her surveying the front of the office, with its shutter down. ‘Because if you’re not … I do know how to pick locks and I think I can get in here.’

  He laughed. ‘Of course you do. I’d better let you up, hadn’t I?’

  ‘Yep.’

  A moment later, Flynn reached the side door, meeting her eye through the glass, unlocking the various bolts and keys. He
opened the door and there she was, in pink sequins and a gold headband emblazoned with the words Happy New Year!!!! Her eyes were pink and blue glitter, her shoes turquoise ankle boots. Against the backdrop of the dark night and damp street, she was like a bunch of flowers.

  ‘Happy New Year!’ she cried, handing a bottle to Flynn and shoving past him through the door. She stopped mid-stride, freezing on the spot and asking, ‘I’m not going to set off a security alarm or anything, am I?’

  ‘No,’ he laughed. ‘Want to see my desk?’

  ‘I want to see all of it,’ August answered, wandering on ahead of him, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the rest of the open plan office. That is, until she banged against a table and nearly bent double, narrowly avoiding smacking her nose.

  Flynn reached for her hand, which was both so familiar to him now but also felt unnatural in his, thanks to their shift at the Christmas party. He led her through the building towards his desk, where his lamp illuminated a great pile of papers and notes, Post-its scattered and highlighter pens with missing lids. ‘Happy New Year,’ he finally replied. ‘Are you sure you want to be here?’

  August handed him a beer. ‘Of course I don’t, but I also don’t want you to be here. Can’t you forget about it tonight and put in a couple of hours tomorrow?’

  ‘I don’t know, the thought of having to come back to it again tomorrow … ’ he sunk his chin onto his hand and tipped the beer into his mouth. He knew he looked as glum as Eeyore. Flynn then turned his eyes towards August, cracking a smile, and said, ‘Jesus, I bet you’re glad you left the party to come here!’

  ‘I am!’ August declared. ‘Where else would I rather be, bedazzled up to the eyeballs in the pinkest, most sequinned dress Bath has ever seen?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Flynn stood up. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve … It’s New Year’s Eve, for another—’ he checked his watch. ‘—Fifteen minutes! Can you give me five minutes to pack my stuff and lock up?’

  ‘To go where?’

  ‘Back to the pub?’

  ‘We’d be pushing it,’ August admitted. ‘And it’s so crowded in there that come midnight we’d be fighting our way to try and make it back to Bel and the crowd.’