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“Why haven’t you signed these?”
“Becaus
e I don’t want to.” I don’t hesitate.
I have been friends with Fergus for as long as I can remember and right now, as he gives me an unnerving look, I know he will drag out the truth from me, if I even know what the reason is.
“Why not?” I dig into my soup, not knowing how to answer him. “Philip, are you in love with this woman?” Am I what? In love with Charlotte?
“She’s been around as long as I can remember. And when I saw her last week, I realized how badly I missed her. If I sign those papers, she’s not going to stick around, Fergus.”
Fergus tucks the papers in the envelope, his brow furrows.
“So, you want to be friends with her? What are you, five?”
“Fuck you.” I immediately bristle at the insult, not that he is bothered. He looks amused.
“You went to her wedding, even though any one of us could have gone as Agatha’s plus one. You married her the second she was jilted at the altar, although there could have been a number of ways to handle that situation. Then you decide not to get the marriage annulled, despite the fact that it’s the logical solution. You want to know what I think?”
“I really don’t,” I mutter. Fergus continues as if he hasn’t heard me.
“I think the reason you’re so desperate to tie her to you is because you’re in love with her.”
“’Love’ is a very strong term,” I try to reason with him, but mostly myself. “I might have feelings for her—”
Fergus stares at me as if I have suddenly announced that I want to wear a tutu and dance in his restaurant.
“If this is how you behave with women you ‘might’ have feelings for, I’m worried about what you’ll do once you’re in love.” I turn my gaze back to my soup. “Face it. You’ve always been in love with her. You should’ve seen the way you watched her when we were young. You were like a puppy. We all had a pool going of what would happen if she actually threw you a stick—” Fergus dances out of reach as I try to hit him, howling with laughter.
Some of the diners look over, a little taken aback at the noise.
“I’m not in love with her.” Even I can hear the lack of conviction in my statement. My friend sobers up.
“Would it really be that bad if you were?” I stare. Fergus pours me a glass of water and thrusts it towards me. “When she disappeared with just a note to Agatha, we all knew you had something to do with it, even if you refused to discuss it. You changed your entire life around after she left.”
His words strike a chord in me, and I gaze at the liquid in my glass.
The vibration from my phone makes me pick it up blindly, and I see Agatha’s text message. Frowning, I stuck the phone back into my pocket and ignore the continuous vibrations.
“Who’s that – never mind,” Fergus grins when his own phone lights up, “Agatha says you need to decide what the hell you want, or she’s going to have me and Ian beat you up.” I narrow my eyes at him, and Fergus shrugs. “She’s the boss, man. We’re just her slaves.”
“Just because she handles all your PR, doesn’t mean you have to bend to her every whim. That little brat needs a whooping.” Fergus raises a brow.
“Says the brother who panicked when she sprained her wrist by falling off the bed.”
“Like you and Ian weren’t right there next to me threatening the poor doctor,” I scoff. Fergus looks a little thoughtful.
“Is Zayn the only one who doesn’t let her lord it over him?” I push the empty bowl away from me.
“They’re always at each other’s throats. You’d think they were toddlers the way they fight.” I pick up the envelope and sigh. “Tell Agatha, I’ll deal with this.” Fergus abandons his light-hearted persona.
“Think about what I said, though. If you want to keep her tied to you, it’s not friendship you’re after.” I give a curt nod, and walk out, a million thoughts racing through my head.
An hour later, I walk into my apartment to find the last person I want to see today.
I rub my temples.
“Hello, Grams.”
