The Plus-One Agreement. Charlotte Phillips
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of legal advice?
This wasn’t a relationship; it was an agreement. All she’d done was swap one for another. She could be Dan’s platonic plus-one or Alistair’s live-in lawyer. Where the hell was the place for what she wanted in any of that?
‘It’s all off, Alistair,’ she said dully. It felt as if her voice was coming from somewhere else.
He peered at her hardly touched plate of food.
‘What is, honey? The fish?’
He looked around for a waiter while she marvelled at his self-assurance that her sentence couldn’t possibly relate to their relationship. Not in his universe. Alistair probably had a queue of women desperate to date him, all of them a zillion times more attractive than Emma. He had international travel, a beach home in Malibu, a little getaway in the Balearics, his own restaurant and a glittering media career in his corner. What the hell did she have that could compete with that? Interfering parents and a tiny flat in Putney? Why the hell would he think she might want to back out?
‘Us,’ she said. ‘You and me. It’s not going to work out.’
He gaped at her.
‘Is this because I won’t come to your gay brother’s wedding? Honey, have you any idea how much is riding on this new contract? This is the next stage of my career we’re talking about.’ He shook his head at her in a gesture of amazement. ‘The effort that’s gone into lining up this meeting. I’m not cancelling that so you can show me off to your relatives at some small-town pink wedding. And it’s not as if I’m stopping you going. That Neanderthal platonic pal of yours has said he’ll step up to the plate.’
She was vaguely aware of people staring with interest from the surrounding tables. His slight about Dan irked her. Neanderthal? Hardly. He looked like an Adonis, and he was smart, sharp and funny. She clenched her teeth defensively on his behalf.
‘I want you to come with me. I want you to meet my family.’
‘And I will, honey. When the time’s right.’
‘It’s a family wedding. Everyone who knows me will be in one place for the first time in years. When could the time possibly be more right than that?’
His face changed. Subtly but instantly. Like the turning of a switch. The easy, open look that had really taken her in when she’d first met him, the way he’d listened to her as if she mattered and showed her real, genuine interest, was gone. That look was now replaced by a sulky, petulant frown.
‘Because it’s all about you, of course,’ he said. ‘No regard for my career. You have to make these opportunities, Emma, and then follow them up. You don’t mess people like this about, because there are no second chances. I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.’
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