The Plus-One Agreement (13 page)

He remembered how liberating it had felt that his life was finally his own. An escape route.

‘We were friends, Maggie and me, then one night after a party we ended up sleeping together. We kept it really casual, though. Both of us had big career plans. She was training to be a teacher. Primary school kids, you know?’

He glanced at Emma and she nodded acknowledgment, not interrupting. That was a good thing. If he stopped talking about this now he might never start again.

‘And she lived up north, had a big family there, and she was going to be moving back once she’d finished her course. It wasn’t serious. It was never
going
to be serious.’ He laughed. ‘Hell, I’d just got
away
from home life, finally tasted a bit of freedom. I wasn’t about to get myself tied down to someone before I’d even finished my first year.’

She looked puzzled.

‘But you did? You must have for her to have made such a big impact on you. What happened?’

He paused, gathering his thoughts. Who had he told about the baby? Anyone at all? He stormed ahead before he could think twice.

‘Maggie got pregnant,’ he said simply.

He felt the change in her posture as she shifted in his arms. She lifted herself on one elbow to look at him. He steeled himself to glance at her and read the response in her face, ready for the questions that he was sure would follow.

She said nothing. Her eyes were filled with gentleness but she didn’t speak, didn’t pry. She was letting him talk on his own terms.

‘And that changed everything,’ he said.

He took a sharp breath as he recalled the memory. It came back to him easily, in such perfect clarity that it made a mockery of his conviction that he’d done such a great job of putting it behind him.

‘At first I was horrified. I thought it was the last thing I could possibly want. Maggie had strong views. She was going to keep the baby whether I was involved or not.’ He sighed. ‘She made it sound like she was offering me my freedom, but looking back I think to her I was dispensable even at the outset.’

‘And were you? Involved, I mean?’

He could see the puzzlement in her eyes. She was wondering if he had a secret family stashed away somewhere.

‘Once I got used to the shock I was more and more delighted. The longer it went on the more I bought into it. With every day that passed I had a clearer idea of what the future would be like. I was going to be the best bloody husband and father the world had ever seen.’

‘You’ve been married?’

He gave a rueful smile and shook his head.

‘It was my one and only brush with it, but, no, it never happened. I wanted it to be as different to my experience of family as I could make it. Proper commitment, hands-on parents with a strong, healthy relationship.’ He paused. ‘I probably envisaged a white picket fence somewhere. And a dog. Sunday roasts. All the stereotypes. I was right in there with them.’ He took a breath. ‘And then it all disappeared overnight because we lost the baby.’

The wrenching, churning ache deep in his chest made a suffocating comeback. Dulled a little at the edges over time, like an old wound, but still there, still heavy.

She was sitting up now, reaching for his hands, her eyes filled with sadness.

‘Oh, bloody hell, Dan. I’m so sorry.’

He waved a dismissive hand at her, shaking his head, swallowing hard to rid his throat of the aching constriction.

‘It was a long time ago,’ he said.

In terms of years, at least.

‘I’m over it.’

‘I never imagined you being remotely interested in kids or family,’ she said. ‘I mean, it isn’t just the way you keep your relationships so short or the fact you never see your own parents. You’re the most un-child-friendly person I’ve ever known. You have a penthouse flat with a balcony and it’s full of glass furniture and white upholstery. Your car is a two-seater.’

‘Why would I need a family home or a Volvo?’ he said. ‘I have absolutely no intention of going down that road again. I gave it my best shot and it didn’t work out.’

A worried frown played about her face and he gave her a reassuring
I’m-over-it
smile.

‘That’s why I didn’t step straight up to the plate when Adam needed a helping hand. That’s why I made it into the car before I realised I couldn’t leave for London. I was trying to play things the way I always do. I don’t get involved with people. I like keeping things simple.’

‘At arm’s length.’

‘Exactly. Arm’s length. After Maggie I decided relationships weren’t for me. Family wasn’t for me. I threw myself into work instead. After all, it had always worked at digging me out in the past. And it worked again.’ He shrugged. ‘But maybe it’s become a bit of a habit. I never wanted to come across as selfish or unkind when I said you liked your comfort zone. It was a retaliation, nothing more.’

He pulled her back down from her elbow into a cuddle. Her head nestled beneath his chin. She shook her head slowly against his chest.

‘Maybe it
was
just a retaliation but actually you might have had a point,’ she said quietly.

He pulled away enough to give her a questioning look and she offered him a tiny smile.

‘A
small
point,’ she qualified. ‘Did you ever know I had a crush on you for months, like some stupid schoolgirl?’

That flash of clarity kicked in again, the same as he’d felt the night before, as if something he wasn’t seeing had been pointed out to him. A wood instead of a mass of trees, maybe.

‘You did?’

‘Why am I not surprised that you never noticed?’ She sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘I think maybe part of the reason I was so struck on you was because of what you’re like. I knew you’d never look twice at me. I didn’t fit your remit.’

‘My
remit?
’ He grinned and tugged her closer.

She snuggled into his arm. ‘Blonde, bubbly, curvaceous. That’s your type.’

‘Dispensable, simplistic, inconsequential,’ he said. ‘Those were the real qualities I was aiming for. None of which apply to you.’

‘That’s exactly my point. I got to know you over months, I saw the kind of girls you went for and I knew none of your relationships lasted. I knew you’d never be interested in me and that made dreaming about the prospect from afar a very nice, safe thing to do.’

She held a hand up as if it was all suddenly clear to her.

‘Plus it was a great reason not to get involved with anyone else, and it gave me the perfect way to fob off criticism from my parents when they asked about my life. So there you are, you see. When you said I was happy living in Adam’s shadow, staying under my parents’ radar, you kind of had a point. My choices were all about keeping an easy life.’

‘You must have hidden it well,’ he said, scanning his mind back over the last twelve months. Little signs jumped out at him now that he had that hindsight—the way she’d always been available for any work engagement, no matter how short the notice, the effort she’d always made with her appearance. He’d assumed those were things she did for everyone. Because that was what he’d
wanted
to assume. The alternative hadn’t been allowed on his radar.

‘Then again, I’m not sure I would have noticed unless you’d smashed me over the head with it,’ he conceded. ‘I had you filed very comfortably under “Work Colleague”. That was what I needed you to be. I never intended things between us to be more than that.’

‘Our plus-one agreement.’

He didn’t respond, although the ensuing silence was heavy with the unspoken question. What would happen now with their ludicrous arrangement? He’d told her it would be over when they got this weekend out of the way and went back to their London lives. With every moment he spent with her, sticking to that decision and riding it out felt more and more difficult.

ELEVEN

‘You want
to try and get to breakfast?’ he asked.

Emma felt the light brush of his kiss against her shoulder. Even after the night they’d spent, followed by the delicious intimacy of this morning, his touch thrilled her.

She wriggled against him. Her arms fitted around his neck as if they were meant to be there. She smoothed the dense spikes of his hair through her fingers.

‘Let me think,’ she said, smiling into his eyes. ‘Would I rather sit opposite my parents and watch my father drool over a full English while my mother force-feeds him muesli, or would I rather stay here with you?’

He laughed and pulled her tighter.

‘Adam’s married now. I think he’s grown-up enough to manage without me watching his back through one little breakfast.’ She dropped her eyes briefly. ‘And I think you’ve done enough for him. We can catch him before he goes.’

Was it just that? Or was part of it that she didn’t want to leave this gorgeous little bubble where he was hers for fear that it might burst? After wanting him for so long, all the while convinced nothing would ever come of it, to actually have her crush requited made it seem all the sweeter.

Needling doubt lurked at the edge of her consciousness despite the gorgeous night they’d spent and the way he’d opened up about his past. She knew Dan—knew the way he played relationships. Despite his reassurances there was no getting away from the fact that pretty soon after you made it into Dan’s bed you made it just as quickly out of it, never to be heard of again. Was this like some holiday romance? Would the magic be theirs as long as they didn’t leave? What would happen when they got back to London?

She’d noticed that her mention of the old plus-one agreement hadn’t been picked up by him. His intention to cut all ties with her after this weekend gnawed at the edge of her consciousness as she tried to push it away.

* * *

Adam and Ernie stood at the hotel doorway, waving madly. Those who had made it down to breakfast clustered in the lobby. Emma had dragged Dan downstairs with moments to spare and eased her way through the group of smiling friends and relatives, her hand entwined in his.

Emma’s mother dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye.

‘Well, it wasn’t the most traditional set-up,’ she sniffed, ‘but still...it’s been a lovely weekend.’

She kissed Adam’s cheek and then leaned in to do the same to Ernie.

‘Tradition?’ Ernie said. ‘I think we can stretch to a bit of that before we go.’

He grabbed at a bunch of yellow lilies standing in a huge vase on the side table near the door, turned his back on the gathered crowd of guests and lobbed them high in the air over his head to the sound of claps and squeals, showering the guests with drops of water. As the flowers plummeted, twisting and turning, faces turned to watch their progress.

Dan shot out a hand and caught them on autopilot, to prevent them from smacking him over the head.

He stared down stupidly at the bunch of flowers in his hand as cheers and mad clapping rang out all around them. Even Emma’s mother was smiling.

‘You’re next!’ Adam hollered from the doorway. ‘Great catch, sweetie!’

Dan glanced at Emma and saw the look of delight on her face. Her eyes shone. Her smile lit up her face. She radiated happiness.

Shock flooded into the pit of his stomach.

You’re next!

Was he? Was that where this led?

He’d had a game plan way back in London, before they’d even set foot in the West Country. A plan to be a last-time-pays-for-all fake boyfriend stand-in for Emma and then go back to London. Back to work. Back to what
worked.
And somehow he’d been caught up in the moment, had lost sight of what was important to him.

He’d ended up standing here with flowers in his hands to the sound of excited applause because the path ahead of him led down the aisle. Maybe not now, maybe not even in the next few years, but
that
was the destination.

If
they made it that far.

That was the risk. A risk he’d vowed never to take again after the months of despair that had plagued him when Maggie left.

This was way off-plan. Yet the thought of losing Emma now made his heart plummet and misery churn in his stomach.

He followed the rest of the group outside to watch Adam and Ernie pile into a yellow Rolls-Royce. Maybe he could find another way forward. A way to keep her that still minimised risk. A compromise.

* * *

She’d been right.

There really was more between them than one of his casual flings. They’d been back from the wedding for nearly a week now and he was a different man. He was in touch with her daily, and with every phone call and text she felt more secure. Flowers arrived from him at her workplace, eliciting envious stares and buzzing interest from her colleagues. He hadn’t so much as mentioned their old plus-one agreement, but that was because it was obsolete—right? Past history. OK, so she wasn’t expecting him to propose...let’s not get ahead of ourselves—although a girl could dream. But she’d been the one to change his behaviour. He really
was
different with her. They were a couple now—not just work contacts.

Dan didn’t
do
flowers and phone calls. He did swift exits and dumping by text. And now she was seeing him tonight and her stomach was one big ball of excitement and anticipation. She couldn’t wait.

The doorbell. On time.

She checked her appearance one last time. A new dress, a less austere one than usual, with a floaty, feminine skirt. Deep pink instead of her usual black or grey choice of going-out outfit. Because going out with Dan was about pleasure now, not business. About getting to know each other instead of working the situation for every career advantage they could get out of it.

She opened the front door and excitement at seeing him brought an instant smile to her face—one she couldn’t have held back. He stood on the doorstep, leaning against the jamb, his crisp blue shirt deepening the tones of his eyes as he smiled at her, a perfectly cut business suit and silk tie sharpening the look.

Not the same relaxed designer look he’d had at the wedding weekend. Her mind stuttered briefly.
Business suit.

From nowhere cautionary unease jabbed her in the ribs and a wave of disorientating
déjà vu
swept over her. She could have rewound to a couple of months before Adam’s wedding, before Alistair had put a stop to their agreement, and Dan would have looked exactly like this when she’d opened the door for one of their business engagements.

He slid an arm around her waist and kissed her softly on the mouth, starting up all the latent sparks from the weekend.

She pulled herself up short.

Jumping at shadows—that was what she was doing. She was so used to being doomed to failure when she put herself out there that now she was pre-empting problems before they even happened. She’d ruin things herself if she wasn’t careful. Already he had a puzzled expression on his face—no doubt because her first reaction on seeing him since their gorgeous weekend at the wedding was to hesitate.

He’d called her. He’d sent flowers. He’d texted. And now she was spooked because of the
suit
he wore? She really needed to go to work on her own insecurities if she was going to move forward with her life.

‘Where are we going, then?’ she asked when he started the car.

‘Dinner first,’ he said easily, putting it in gear and moving smoothly into the early-evening traffic. ‘I’ve got a table booked at La Maison.’

Another jab of unease.

‘La Maison?’

It was Dan’s choice of venue for work dinners. She’d been there with him too many times to count, always as his stand-in date, always with a work objective in mind. Maybe it would be a new contact to impress, perhaps a sweetener before he put in a tender for services. Whatever it happened to be, she’d been there to help smooth the path.

He glanced across at her.

‘For starters, yes. If that’s OK with you? Then maybe later we could go on somewhere else? End up at my place?’

‘Of course.’

She smiled brightly at him and pressed her palms together in her lap. They were damp.

He parked the car and escorted her into the restaurant. The usual subtle piano music played in the background, and the usual perfectly dressed dark wood tables and soft lighting provided the perfect ambience for discussion, which had always been the point of coming here.

His usual table. She felt Dan’s hand rest gently on her hip as he guided her between the tables towards it.

Usual restaurant. Usual table.

It didn’t mean anything, did it? The restaurant was a good one after all.

Usual quick run-through of background?

‘Roger Lewis and Barry Trent,’ he said in a low voice at her shoulder. ‘Medium-sized business providing bespoke travel packages specifically aimed at the over-fifties. Looking for advice on growing their business to the next level.’ He gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘Could be in the market for a change in legal services, too—you could be in there!’

As they arrived at the table she turned to stare at him and he actually
winked
at her. It felt as if her heart was being squeezed in a vice.

‘Table for four,’ she said dully, stating the obvious.

He looked at her as if she might be mad. As if there was nothing spot-the-deliberate-mistake about this at all.

‘Of course it is,’ he said. ‘Just a bit of business to discuss and then the evening’s ours. They’ll be along in a minute.’

The waiter pulled a chair out for her and fussed over her as she sat down hard, her mind reeling. Dan gave him the nod and he poured them each a glass of champagne, replacing the bottle in the ice bucket to one side of the table.

Her throat felt as if it might be closing up and she swallowed hard. She clasped her hands together on the table to stop them shaking.

‘I thought we were going on a date,’ she said, making her tone as neutral as she could manage when what she wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and shake him. ‘Just you and me. But this is basically the same old set-up, Dan.’

She waved a hand at the extra two table settings, at the surrounding quiet tastefulness of the restaurant.

‘Is that it, then? Now we’re back in London it’s back to the same old routine? Were you actually going to discuss that with me, or did you just assume I’d go along with it?’

He reached for her hands but she removed them to her lap.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said.

‘What this looks like to me is the same old plus-one agreement,’ she said, forcing the words out, voicing her worst fears. ‘Just with sex thrown in.’

He grimaced and leaned across the table to touch her cheek.

‘This is
not
the same old plus-one agreement,’ he said, ‘and I really wish we’d never given the damn thing a name. It makes it sound like we signed something official when all we really did was get into a routine over time. Because it worked so well for
both
of us.’

A
routine?
She pressed her lips together hard and pushed a hand through her hair as anger began to course through her. It felt suddenly uncomfortably hot in here. She hadn’t missed the emphasis there on the word
both.
No way was she letting him lump her in with this as if it were some joint bloody venture.

When he next spoke it felt as if he’d tipped the contents of the ice bucket over her head.

‘But if we
have
to call it that,’ he continued, holding out a hand, ‘for what it’s worth I don’t think we should be too hasty about changing how we relate to each other when it comes to work. Why end something that’s worked so well for us just because you and I have got closer? What do you think about varying it a little? Adding in a few amendments?’

His tone was jokey—teasing, even. As if he were proposing something exciting. As if she ought to be taking his arm off in her eagerness to say yes.

‘Different rules this time—it’ll be fun. We can still do work engagements together, give it everything we’ve got just like we always have, but without the need to limit it. There’ll be no need to
pretend
we’re a couple any more—no need to go our separate ways at the end of the night.’

He wanted to carry on seeing her but without any full-on legitimacy. Work would continue to come first with him, just the way it always had. He would expect her to carry on acting as his plus-one, smoothing the way for his business prowess at charity dinners and the like. The difference would be that this time she would get to share his bed, as well.

Well,
lucky, lucky
her.

All the pent-up excitement that had built this week as she’d looked forward to seeing him again had quit bubbling and dissipated like flat champagne. The flavour would still be there—the tang of white grape and the sharp aroma reminiscent of the effervescent drink it once was—but when you got right down to it, it was past its best. What you were really getting was the dregs.

And one thing she knew without a shadow of a doubt was that she was not going to be the dregs. Not for anyone.

Not even for him.

* * *

She stood up, a veil of calm slipping over her. She’d wanted him to be hers so much she’d believed she’d give anything to keep him.

But when it came to it she found that her self-respect just wasn’t up for grabs.

He looked up at her, his expression confused, as she picked up her handbag and lifted her wrap from the back of her chair, making it obvious this wasn’t just a visit to the ladies’ room. She was leaving.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Home,’ she said, not looking at him.

She pushed her chair back into place. Sick disappointment burned in her throat, blocking it. She wasn’t sure she could stop it transforming into tears if she looked at him. She absolutely was
not
going to cry. No way.

He stood up immediately, his hand on her elbow.

‘Why? What’s wrong? Are you ill?’