Terms of Agreement

25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Charlotte

I shouldn’t have come. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but that had been my sleepy, antsy brain that had been weighing up the options. Not my logical, rational brain that was now screaming that I should have agreed when Aiden said he wanted to go back to London. Aiden had barely said a word to me since we’d left the Manor. He’d gone from close and affectionate to cold and removed in the space of a single sentence, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. Mentally cursing myself, I blinked back the sting of tears as I followed Aiden along the corridor and into what could only be the guest bedroom.

‘The bathroom’s to the left if you want to use it,’ Aiden grumbled, moving to set his watch down on the bedside table closest to the window.

I thought—evidently na?vely so—that we’d struck up some kind of allyship during our time in the library. Yes, dancing had flirted with the boundaries of feeling, but we were at a wedding. With all of that hope and promise in the air, wasn’t it normal to feel keyed up at a wedding? My heart sank a little in my chest at the sight of him. He wouldn’t even look at me.

‘Your mum mentioned toiletries?’ I asked, willing him to turn around.

‘Cabinet under the sink.’ He gestured to a folded pile at the foot of the bed and said, ‘Those are probably the clothes Mum found for you to sleep in.’

I nodded—not that he could see—and took a step forward to pick up the clothes. I left without another glance in his direction—I’d seen enough of his back in the past hour to last me a lifetime.

I cringed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My curls were wet and plastered to my forehead and the rain had made a mess of my makeup. I’d gone from winged eyeliner to hooded racoon in the time it had taken to walk from the car to the front door—so much for first impressions.

With a sigh, I crouched down to open the cabinet Aiden had mentioned. It was well stocked—thank God. Toothbrush. Face wash. Moisturiser. Not my usual routine, but all things I could work with. I undid the zipper at my side and allowed the dress to pool at my feet. Stepping out of the puddle of lilac, I moved over to where I’d left the pyjamas at the edge of the bath.

‘Shit.’ Pyjamas was a little too generous a term for the grey t-shirt that unfolded in my hands. I turned it over in my hands, hoping against hope to find a pair of bottoms plastered to the back—no such luck.

Heart speeding up, I dropped the t-shirt to the floor and raked a hand through my hair. I winced when my fingers caught in the tangle of wet curls and, without thinking, I turned my focus to the new problem at hand. I worked my fingers through my hair methodically, staring at the wallpapered wall above the toilet. This was what I got for stepping out of my comfort zone. Knots and no bottoms.

I narrowed my gaze on the delicate pink flowers that dotted the cream wallpaper in an attempt to stave off the panic that threatened to overwhelm me. It was fine. It was one night. I tugged at a particularly stubborn knot, whimpering as the hair yanked at my scalp. Sure, the pyjama situation was less than ideal, but it was fine. Maybe Aiden had a pair of bottoms I could borrow? Or Louise?

I frowned as I mentally compared mine and Louise’s bodies. Louise was what? Five-one? Five-two? Unlikely.

Breathing deeply, I worked through my hair with practised ease. And when I’d finished, I moved over to where I’d dropped the t-shirt, picking it up and pulling it on. I turned in front of the mirror to get a better look at myself and frowned at my reflection. Unlike the leading ladies of my favourite romcoms, the hem of the t-shirt did not skim my mid-thighs, drowning me in material and accentuating how small and petite I was. Oh no! This stupid thing doesn’t even cover my whole ass!

Taking a ragged breath, I tried to breathe through the panic that tightened my chest and danced in my eyes. I picked up the toothbrush, focusing on the feel of the plastic in my hand, watching the green and white paste ooze from the tube as I applied it to the brush, forcing my attention to the sensation of the bristles on my teeth. I watched myself in the bathroom mirror, maintaining eye contact with my reflection as I focused on the touch, taste, and smell of the moment. It was enough to loosen the knot in my chest, but not enough to rid me of my anxiety, which still rippled just beneath the surface of my subconscious.

Giving the back of the shirt a final, futile tug, I grabbed my dress from the floor and made my way back to the bedroom, holding the bundle of my dress in front of my hips.

‘Bathroom’s free.’

Aiden looked up from his phone and I tried not to stare at the way the t-shirt he’d changed into clung to his muscled chest, the fabric stretched tight over his broad shoulders. He blinked, his eyes travelling down my body and my bare legs before snapping back up to my face.

‘Where are your pyjamas?’ he said hoarsely.

‘This is all there was!’ I whispered defensively, heat colouring my cheeks. I pointed to where we’d found the clothes on the bed. ‘I had hoped you might have a pair of pyjama bottoms I could borrow.’

‘Fuck.’ Aiden blew out a breath, covering his face with his hands. ‘I don’t. All I’ve got is what I’m wearing.’ He gestured down to the t-shirt and pair of low-slung grey sweats.

‘Well… shit,’ I muttered, speaking to the floor, not trusting myself not to stare if I looked directly at him—I’d read too many books that featured low-slung sweatpants for my mind not to drift to places it shouldn’t.

‘I’ll sleep on the sofa,’ Aiden said suddenly. My head snapped up as he moved to grab his watch and phone from the bedside table.

‘Aiden, no.’ He turned to face me, his jaw and shoulders locked tight. ‘It’s one night, let’s just…’ I blew out a breath, ‘be adults about this and it’ll be fine.’

‘I really don’t think…’ he started, looking from me to the bed.

‘Jesus Christ, Aiden. I’m not going to molest you!’ I forced myself to speak through the sting of continuous rejection that barbed my chest. ‘Just…’ I pressed my fingers to my temple, clutching the dress protectively in front of me. ‘Just turn around and let me get into bed first and then… it’ll be fine. It’s a big bed. There’s no reason we can’t share.’

Aiden looked at me, his expression stern, his shoulders tense, and his eyes still darkened with an emotion that I didn’t recognise. After a moment, he nodded and turned away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I draped the dress over a chair in the corner before scurrying to my side of the bed.

‘I’m in,’ I murmured, smoothing the linen covers over my thighs. His eyes met mine and, for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the Aiden from the wedding.

‘I’ll just…’ Aiden gestured towards the bathroom, and with a curt nod, left the room.