Terms of Agreement

46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Charlotte

T hings were more than a little awkward after Aiden’s… Confession? Revelation? Vulnerable moment? Whatever it was, it led to a sort of stilted silence… as if neither of us knew what to do next—which made sense because soul-baring and trauma-bonding wasn’t exactly covered in the contract. He didn’t ask about my mini-revelation. He’d just offered me a small smile with a faraway look in his eyes. Which was a good thing—at least, that’s what I told myself. It was better not to have to tell him about Mum. But with the conversation dried up, we’d both just kind of sat there. Lost to our own thoughts until the shrill chime of one of my phone alarms jolted us back to the bedroom and a hurried goodbye.

Becky had arrived sometime in the early afternoon, coming from the station armed with a bottle of wine and Scottish tablet, both of which she’d thrust into my hands as she lugged her army-green suitcase through the door.

‘WowWee—’ I whistled, eyeing the suitcase and moving out of the doorway. ‘You moving in?’

‘Oh, har har.’ Becky made a face over her shoulder and let out a grunt as she hoisted the suitcase—less than affectionately known as “The Hulk”—over the lip at the doorway and into the apartment.

‘Seriously, Becks.’ I chuckled. ‘Do you need a hand?’

‘Nope,’ Becky puffed, popping her lips on the “p”. She rolled her suitcase into the apartment and came to a stop at the doorway to the living room where she sagged against the doorframe. ‘This would have been so much easier without the carpets.’

‘They’re cosy,’ I protested.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Becky flapped a hand at me dismissively before putting both hands on her hips. ‘Same place as last time?’

I nodded, taking a step towards her, but she held out a hand to stop me. Heaving herself off the doorframe, Becky shoved the curtain of her brown hair over one shoulder and threaded her fingers around the suitcase’s plastic handle.

‘Well,’ I said, arms raised placatingly, a smile tugging on my lips, ‘you know where the bedroom is. I’ll start prepping the snacks.’

‘Prepping?’ Becky froze halfway across the living room, her head whipping around as she looked at me in abject horror. For all that she worked in a pub, Becky was a menace in the kitchen.

‘Assembling,’ I corrected, and the deer-in-the-headlights expression Becky had been wearing brightened immediately. ‘Is Claire still coming?’

‘Far as I know!’ Becky called out, her voice growing quieter as she manoeuvred to the bedroom.

Nodding, I opened the doors to my freshly stocked cupboards and loaded my arms up with snacks before moving to the counter, where I placed each bag behind the serving bowls I’d laid out earlier this morning.

‘Thanks for letting her crash, by the way,’ Becky said from behind me as I set the last packet, a bag of honey and mustard pretzel bites, in place.

‘Of course.’ I shot Becky a sideways smile, reaching out to straighten the last bowl in the row. Claire was Becky’s younger sister—her half-sister, but even though I’d met her a couple of times, I didn’t know much about her. I knew that they hadn’t been close growing up, but from what I’d heard and observed, Claire was very different to her boisterous and opinionated elder sister. In fact, in most of our interactions she’d only really engaged in conversation that was aimed directly at her, which was something that bugged Becky to no end—she’d gone off a couple of times about how Claire was shaping up to be just like their mother, but part of me wondered if she was just shy.

Becky moved to stand beside me, giving my elbow a quick squeeze and gesturing towards the food, cocking her head in question. At my nod of reply, we started decanting the various snacks into their bowls, starting at opposite ends of the counter and working our way towards the middle.

‘I hadn’t planned to see her this weekend,’ Becky said as she slid the cellophane cover off a tub of guacamole and added it to the assortment of dips in front of her. ‘But I got a weird text from her during the week and I just…’ she trailed off, her hands hanging suspended in the air, one clutching the now empty container and the other a large spoon.

‘Is she okay?’ I asked.

Becky just shrugged, the shadow of concern etched across her face.

We worked in silence, methodically unpacking more food than the four of us could hope to consume. Eventually, somewhere near the middle of the counter, she turned to face me and asked, ‘How’s work?’

‘Fine,’ I said with a shrug of my own, responding to Becky’s eyebrow raise with an elbow to her ribs. ‘What?’ I laughed. ‘You know what it’s like…’

Becky already knew about the appraisal, but I’d skimmed over some details of my more recent interactions with Karl and the rest of the team. She folded her arms across her chest, shifting her position into her “I’m waiting” stance and, with a sigh, I went on to tell her about our most recent team meeting.

‘So, you know every Wednesday we have those team-wide catch-up calls?’ I grimaced.

‘Karl’s soapbox hour?’ Becky scoffed. ‘Oh yeah.’

‘Well, I’ve been working on this deal with Nigel Bromhall—’

‘The Senior Associate?’

‘Partner,’ I corrected, he’d just been promoted and the deal in question was one of his first since becoming partner. ‘Anyway, we’ve been working on this deal for a couple of weeks and Nigel had me draft an advisory note for the client and they weren’t happy with it.’ Becky arched a brow, waiting for me to continue. ‘They complained to the team lead who, unfortunately for me, is Karl.’

‘Uh oh,’ Becky sang, shaking her head, already knowing where this was going.

‘Yup,’ I sighed, shuffling the breadsticks in front of me so that the broken ones shifted towards the back of the bowl. ‘And the first I heard about it was during the team meeting.’

‘In front of everyone?’ Becky snatched up the bag of tortilla chips waiting to be decanted. I nodded and her grip on the bag tightened. ‘But didn’t Nigel sign off on it?’ I nodded again—getting partner sign off on something like this was standard practice. ‘Well, what did he say?’

‘Who?’ I asked, busying myself with a bag of pistachios.

‘Nigel!’

‘Nothing.’

‘What?’

I jumped at the sound of a packet ripping, turning in time to see Becky pull two small bowls towards her, scraping them across the countertop.

‘He just let you take the fall for it?’ She angrily upended the bag, raining tortilla chips across the counter.

‘Woah!’ I interjected, reaching out to take the shredded bag away from her. ‘Don’t take it out on the chips!’

‘He let Karl ream you out in front of sixty people?’

‘Fifty-two,’ I mumbled, my chin dipping as the memory of that call rose to the surface. I’d been so blindsided by the complaint that all I’d been able to do was sit there, gaping, as Karl berated my “shoddy work ethic” and used me as an example of what was wrong with “the youth of today.”’

My cheeks had burned a flaming red, but I hadn’t cried. Well, not on camera. It was only later in the afternoon, when my phone buzzed and I spotted Aiden’s emoji, that the pressure in my chest had lessened and I’d been able to breathe again.

Becky looked down at the bag in her hands, blinking a few times before taking a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she frowned, picking up some of the scattered chips and dividing them between the bowls. ‘I just… ugh!’ Her head dropped back as she let out a groan of frustration. ‘I can’t believe they did that to you—I mean, I can. But what the fuck?’

‘It is what it is.’ I shrugged reflexively.

‘You should have left that place years ago,’ Becky muttered in a low voice, her words almost lost to the sound of the crinkled of the crisp bag she scrunched in her fist.

Letting out a quiet sigh, I shut my eyes, breathing in for two counts before I gave Becky the same answer I always did when she mentioned me leaving. ‘You know I can’t.’

‘But you can,’ she said, an edge of exasperation to her words. ‘There are a hundred different places you can fulfil your dreams. It doesn’t need to be at Jones & Morgan.’

‘A hundred?’ I teased, rolling my eyes with forced levity. ‘Really?’

‘Okay, maybe not a hundred ,’ Becky conceded. ‘But she’d want you to be happy, Charlotte.’ My throat constricted, making it difficult to breathe. ‘She’d hate to see you this miserable.’

‘I’m fine,’ I whispered, forcing myself to look at her even as the edges of my vision blurred. But before I could say anything else, the trill of the doorbell sounded through the apartment. Swallowing thickly, I dusted my hands off over the sink and moved towards the door. ‘I’d better get it.’

Becky stayed quiet, but her words followed my every step, working their way into my subconscious. Wiping at my lash line, I lifted the receiver from the intercom and held it to my ear.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi,’ a small voice replied down the wire. ‘It’s me! Uh… Claire.’

‘Oh, hi! Come right up,’ I smiled. ‘It’s the third floor.’ Pressing the button to unlock the gate, I waited to hear the gate open and close before settling the receiver back in its rest.

‘Claire’s here,’ I called over my shoulder, a little more sullenly than I would have an hour ago, but I always took a while to recover from the sting of Becky’s accusations.

A rapid knocking sounded from the door beside me. It was too soon for Claire to have made it up, which only left—

‘Louise,’ I said on an exhale as I opened the door and was immediately pulled into a one-armed hug.

‘Hi,’ Louise sang, rocking from side to side. I could hear the smile in her voice and felt some of the tension leaving my shoulders as I all but melted into the embrace. Louise pulled back to peer past me and into the apartment. ‘Am I late? Is everyone here? Where should I put these?’

It was then that I noticed the large plastic container in Louise’s free hand, a container that Louise jostled from side to side, causing its contents to thunk against its plastic walls. I raised an eyebrow and looked from the box to Louise.

‘Dessert,’ Louise shrugged. ‘I probably should have plated them, but they’d probably have fallen off on my way here, leaving a nice little sugar trail in my wake.’

The mental image alone was enough to bring a smile to my face as I squeezed Louise’s free hand tightly before letting it go to relieve her of the large plastic tub.

‘To answer your questions, I can take these.’ I folded my arms around the container, holding it to my chest. ‘No, you’re not late. Becky got here not too long ago and her sister, Claire, should be coming up any second now.’ My voice trailed off at the familiar whirring of the elevator, my head turning toward the sound.

Louise’s gaze followed my own, and when the doors opened to reveal a familiar face, her head had swivelled back to face me. I gave a small nod, confirming that this was who Louise thought it was, but before I had a chance to speak or make introductions, Louise was rushing over towards the elevator.

‘Hi, you must be Claire!’

Claire’s gaze snapped up from where it had been fixed on the floor in front of her, the jerkiness of movement causing her curtain of silky blonde hair to bounce around her heart-shaped face. It wasn’t just their personalities that were in stark contrast to one another. Becky and Claire’s appearances were at odds as well. Where Claire had inherited most of her physical traits from their mum, Becky’s dad’s genetics had proved stronger. Becky was all olive-toned skin, dark hair and strong features, while Claire looked like she’d stumbled off the set of Downton Abbey.

‘Uh, yes,’ she replied in a small voice, extending a hand in front of her. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’ A few steps behind Louise, I frowned at the slight tremor in her fingers, but the tightness in my chest eased a little when Louise took Claire’s outstretched hand and pulled her into a hug. I watched as Claire’s stiffened shoulders relaxed into the embrace.

‘Hi Claire,’ I said brightly, the box of cookies tucked under one of my arms. ‘This is Louise,’ I gestured towards the woman who had still not let go of Claire. ‘She’s a hugger.’

‘Oh! Right.’ Louise stepped back, her cheeks stained pink. ‘I probably should have introduced myself before tackling you.’

‘That’s okay,’ Claire said, smiling shyly as she tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’

‘Let’s be friends, okay?’ Louise asked. Her tone was as light and cheerful as it usually was, but as Louise studied Claire’s face, waiting for her reply, I noticed the flash of anxiety masked by her smile.

‘Okay.’ Claire nodded, wearing a bemused smile as she took in her new friend.

‘Phew,’ Louise exhaled, winking back at me. ‘That could have been awkward.’

‘What have I missed?’ A loud voice echoed down the corridor.

Claire stiffened, her smile dulling at the sight of her sister, and I reached out to take her hand before turning to face Becky.

‘Nothing,’ I replied, smiling innocently. ‘Come on then,’ I said to the pair beside me, ‘carbs are waiting.’

***

‘What are we feeling?’ Becky asked, several bags of crisps later. ‘Pizza? Thai? Korean?’

‘Pizza!’ Louise threw over her shoulder from where she sat facing the small television, her eyes focused on the screen and Mr Rochester. Becky turned her head towards where I sat on the sofa, an eyebrow raised in question.

‘Pizza sounds good.’ I smiled, tucking my legs beneath me. ‘But will you be alright?’

‘Eh.’ Becky shrugged, scrolling through the delivery options on her phone. ‘What’s life without a little risk? Claire?’

I frowned. Becky had been diagnosed with IBS a couple of years ago and while she no longer suffered many of the symptoms, she was still very cautious around food. Or at least, she usually was.

Claire nodded, casting a quick glance over at her sister before turning her attention back towards the screen. Becky must have seen the movement in her periphery and followed up with, ‘How many and which toppings do we want?’

‘God, I’m already fit to burst!’ I groaned, patting my stomach. ‘Two to share?’

‘Sounds good.’ Becky laughed. ‘I had to undo my top button two cookies ago.’

We’d cracked the lid on Louise’s mysterious tub of dessert mere seconds after we’d all made our way back into the apartment. Becky had been the one to peel away the thin layer of wax paper to reveal a generous stack of crispy golden cookies.

‘White chocolate, brown butter and pistachio cookies,’ Louise had said with a shrug on her way to the kettle. ‘Anyone want some tea?’ The cookies had been given pride of place in the centre of the snack spread that soon covered the coffee table.

‘Louise,’ I straightened, leaning towards her. ‘Seriously, those cookies were divine!’

Louise waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder. Her eyes locked on the screen, but I spotted the slight pink tinge to the tops of her ears. Smiling, I turned my attention away from Louise in time to catch the tail end of Becky and Claire’s conversation.

‘Of course, you don’t mind,’ Becky mumbled, her jaw set as she shifted her body away from her sister. Claire’s fingers twisted in her lap, her shoulders sagging as Becky directed her questions towards Louise and her preference for pizza toppings. I watched as Claire sighed and pulled her feet up onto the seat of the armchair, hugging her knees to her chest and curling in on herself. Cocking my head to one side, I waited for Becky to turn back to me.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Becky muttered. ‘Pizza toppings?’

‘Are you sure?’ I whisper-asked. ‘It doesn’t look like nothing.’

Becky’s shoulders stiffened, and her mouth popped open—‘Shush! You guys ,’ Louise pleaded excitedly, bouncing in front of the television. ‘They’re almost at the chestnut-tree and I am not above rewinding it if you guys talk through his proposal.’

Becky blew out a breath and shrugged, the corners of her mouth twisting into a rueful smile as she leaned back into her corner of the sofa.

I narrowed my eyes in challenge, to which Becky—ever the adult—stuck out her tongue.