Chapter 4 Charlotte #2
No apologies for not keeping in touch. For ghosting me because he’d moved on to bigger and better things.
I’d loved him in that intense, all-encompassing teenage way, and I’d been so easy for him to leave behind.
Now that I was older, I had more of an understanding.
We’d been young. We were from different worlds.
He’d got what he wanted from me and apparently it was enough.
I hadn’t mattered enough to him. It had cut deep.
I’d been discarded since by other crappy men, but Cole had set the precedent for abandonment.
“According to Wikipedia, you’re filthy rich now.”
A smirk played on his full lips. “According to Wikipedia, I’m also an arsehole.”
Sounds about right. “What’s it like being a filthy-rich arsehole?”
“It has its perks.”
He squinted at the trees in the distance. A frown creased his brow. “If neither of us is married by the time we’re thirty, then we marry each other.”
“I’m sorry?”
“That’s what we agreed. Do you remember?”
I remembered the pact. I’d spent months practicing his surname in my diary. To my absolute annoyance, I felt my cheeks get hot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I turned thirty last week. My brother tried to throw me a party.” He said it as though it was a terrible thing.
“You don’t like parties anymore?”
He lifted his cuff and glanced at his expensive-looking watch. “You’re not married.”
“How do you know I’m not married?”
His inscrutable eyes traveled over my face. “Maybe I looked at your Wikipedia page.”
“No. You didn’t. Nothing I’ve ever done would warrant more than a sentence on Wikipedia, let alone a page. Charlotte Ackroyd was born. She wanted to do something with her life, but she never left Ecclesdale. At least she got to try chicory. The end.”
The words sounded bitter, even to me. I wasn’t myself. The wine had made me too candid. I hadn’t been myself for a while. But if I couldn’t feel like that today, when could I?
Cole’s expression was cold and distant. “That was four sentences.”
Yep. Definite arsehole-ish vibes. “Why do you care if I’m married, anyway? Are you going to hold me to the pact?”
He kept his gaze fixed ahead on the trees. “A deal is a deal. We shook on it, as I recall.”
It had to be a joke, but it was hard to tell.
Teenage Cole had always had me cracking up with his dry-witted charm.
But his voice was brusque and businesslike.
No smile. A hard face. Nothing left of the teenager I’d known behind that polish and killer suit.
Is this how he conducted his business? No wonder he’d climbed to the top.
That kind of world was probably full of sociopaths.
He didn’t intimidate me. Nothing else could touch me today. I was already too numb.
“A verbal agreement when we were kids won’t hold much weight in court.”
“You’d be surprised. I’ve got excellent lawyers. One perk of being a filthy-rich arsehole.”
I scoffed. “You’ll have to wait before you whisk me down the aisle. I’ve still got three months. I’m betting on countless marriage proposals before then.”
He pierced me with his gaze. “Well, if no one comes forward to claim you, I’ll see you at church.”
Hilarious. I don’t need anyone to claim me. I’m not lost baggage. Even if that’s how I feel. Today wasn’t a time for banter . . . or whatever this was. “Excuse me. I should . . .” Drink more wine. Try not to weep. Collapse in a corner. A shiver ran through me.
Cole took off his jacket and moved to slip it over my shoulders.
I dodged away. “No. Thank you.”
“You’re cold.”
“I don’t want your jacket. When you disappear and ignore my messages again, I don’t want to be worrying about how to return it. That suit looks like it cost more than this pub. I don’t want that responsibility.”
His mouth opened and closed again. He slipped his jacket back on. I fought to keep my eyes firmly away from where his impressive biceps bulged in his crisp dress shirt. A wake was no time for checking out Cole’s gun show, no matter how much wine I’d quaffed.
“Come inside,” he said.
Not yet. I can’t face it yet. “I’m fine.”
“If you won’t take my jacket, then you’re coming inside.”
His clipped voice left no room for dissent, but I was beyond taking orders. I’d freeze my tits off before I let a man boss me around.
“I said I’m fine.” My voice came out sharper than I’d intended.
He folded his arms. The picture of nonchalance, if it wasn’t for the tension in his jaw. My head pounded. My hangover was kicking in. I’d never felt more wretched. The lump in my throat was as sharp as an arrow.
“Thank you for coming all this way. Dad would have appreciated it. I’ll see you around.”
A small smirk pulled at his lips.
“Something funny?”
He shook his head. He’d probably never been dismissed before.
It looked like it had amused him. This Cole Thorner probably had his employees sniveling and quaking in his wake.
Maybe I should have apologized, but I just wanted this conversation to be done.
He cleared his throat. The weight of some unspoken words flickered in his eyes before he gave me a curt nod and disappeared.
It shouldn’t have surprised me. Disappearing was Cole Thorner’s specialty.