The Best Friend's Contract novel Chapter 20

Julia, my mother, has always been an understanding woman. Ever since I was young, she was my role model—by far, the one and only. I still remember how she used to dress whenever she goes to the office, in her dark red stilettos. She was absolutely an inspiration for someone like me to grow up and appreciate the qualities of dressing, nicely.

Up till now, she has never failed to impress me. She didn't even prove me wrong and she's almost in her fifties yet she would know how to 'rock' it.

''You're right and I don't blame you,'' I grab onto her hands, ''Aidan and I are just very busy with our careers and I'm more than happy that you understand. It's just . . . at times, I'm not able to fully dedicate myself in planning my own wedding—I know that this would only happen once in a lifetime but sometimes, my work just comes first.'' I add, honestly.

She sighs, deeply. ''You're really determined and I can't disagree how much your career would always come first in your daily life but Kenna, no matter how busy or how hard it is to try and just set aside, your family and your future husband will always come first. Your work is very important and I respect that but . . . don't forget how you get to be where you are,'' She replies.

''I know,'' I mutter under my breath.

''Kenna, where are my clothes?'' Aidan appears near the door, surprising us both. My eyes wander down to the droplets of water on his bare skin, making me mentally curse for having an attractive best friend who would soon be my husband for a year, ''Uh, I'm sorry.'' He adds as he sees my mother, chuckling before exiting the room.

I take my time to eye down his body, seeing him standing there with only his towel covering the lower part of his body—leaving me cross my arms, ''How does it feel like to walk around my apartment with only a towel wrapped around your waist?'' I ask, handing him his shirt as I pass next to him, leaving the room.

Without further ado, I am already making my way back into my room. Once I'm done choosing casual clothes to wear for today such as a long-sleeved grey cotton shirt and black skinny jeans, pairing them up with a skin-coloured flats, I instantly make my way towards the bathroom to take a quick but proper shower.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I was never born with perfect skin as soon as I hit puberty but I was grateful at how much I've made myself to appear better. There would be a couple of flaws here and there from my past acne experience but I'm happy at my own skin's improvement—making me stare back at the smooth, mostly-cleared skin.

Once I'm done applying a thin amount of makeup onto my face, I quickly change into the chosen clothes; leaving the room with my hair in a ponytail and my handbag in my hand. My eyes wander to Aidan who is standing in office attire, talking to his mother before turning to look at me, eyeing down my outfit.

''I thought . . . you were late?'' I ask, confusingly.

''I forwarded the meeting. It would just be a discussion with my employees and I had given them a worthy excuse which is to plan my wedding,'' He replies, ''I'll head to the office around three, after lunch.'' He adds, clearing his throat as I eye Diana, who remains where she is.

''Great,'' I breathe out. My lips are curving up into a smile, not realising how fake it is. This whole wedding is not even supposed to come in between both of our careers but due to his mother's request, he had no choice but to agree.

Apparently, Gerald had drove both my mother and Diana to my apartment and is currently waiting for them near Aidan's car which was parked right in front. I make my way with Aidan towards his car, entering it before letting out a deep sigh before looking out at the window.

''I know. You don't have to say it,'' He says as soon as he has entered the car before starting the engine, ''That's what she's good in. Trying to alter my life into something better as if my life is not any better than my brother's but I don't blame her . . . she wants the best for her son. I'm just annoyed by her actions on trying to make me agree,'' He breathes out, driving forward.

''I'm not trying to be rude,'' I turn to look at him—his right hand on the steering wheel while his left hand is currently on his lap, from the moderate traffic in front of us. ''I know how she is. I've known her ever since I was a kid and you've never stopped complaining about how much she wants the best for you. I understand because every single mother would want that,''