The Boyfriend

by Abigail Barnette

  “You look quite dashing, yourself,” I said, reaching out to smooth the front of his charcoal gray jacket against his white button-down.

  Neil turned to El-Mudad and lowered his voice. “And you’re making me seriously consider sending your tailor a thank you card.”

  “You can thank me by helping me take it off later,” El-Mudad told him.

  Neil winked in response and gestured to the tree to change the subject. “This one is far larger than last year’s.”

  “Is it a real tree?” I’d just assumed it was a fake one.

  “It is. We buy them from a farm in Germany, near where my family would vacation for a week every summer.” He cleared his throat. “That smell is unforgettable.”

  “I thought it was an air freshener,” El-Mudad admitted sheepishly.

  I snorted.

  “Forgive me for indulging in a bit of nostalgia,” Neil scolded. “Have you checked in on dinner?”

  Servants were already bustling in and out to set up the buffet-style meal. It was one concession I’d forced Neil to make; my family would not have liked a sit-down dinner where someone put an exact portion on their plates.

  But he’d drawn the line at Chinette platters.

  We drifted toward the buffet table, and I picked up one of the delicate china plates. “There are a lot of kids here. What if they drop one?”

  “It would break, I assume,” El-Mudad joked.

  “And it wouldn’t matter. These aren’t family heirlooms. They’re for weddings and things held in the house.” Neil frowned. “You know, I’m not sure they’re even mine? They might belong to the trust. Have you spoken to Joan about that? We might be renting them right now.”

  I held up my hand. “I don’t need details. It’ll just freak me out even more that you own this place.”

  “We,” Neil corrected me.

  It was an uncomfortable reminder, all of a sudden, that El-Mudad could never really be “married” to us, even if things got that serious. Not that moving in together wouldn’t be serious. Especially with kids involved.

  Especially after what had happened that afternoon.

  “How did things go with the girls?” Neil asked El-Mudad. We hadn’t seen him—or Amal—since their fight at lunch. All we’d gotten was a simple, “We’ll talk later,” text.

  “Ah. Well, Rashida loves the two of you,” he began. “I’m so sorry to have run out.”

  “She’s a delightful girl. It was no trouble at all,” Neil assured him.

  It really had been fun to get to know Rashida, though I got the distinct feeling that she pitied our fortune compared to her father’s. When she’d learned that Olivia had never been to Disney World, she’d recoiled and informed us that she’d visited every Disney park by the time she’d turned nine.

  I’d told her I’d rectify our oversight as soon as possible.

  “She’s very insistent that we should take Olivia to meet the Mouse,” I said with a laugh. “Maybe we should consider a trip sometime in the future? A family one?”

  El-Mudad appeared relieved at my inclusion of his girls as family. “I have no doubt that Rashida would love to introduce Olivia to all of the princesses.”

  “And Amal?” Neil asked, popping the tension balloon that hovered over our heads.

  El-Mudad’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “Amal...may take more convincing. As you learned today, she has a difficult time trusting new people.”

  “She has a difficult time trusting new people who are romantically involved with her father,” Neil revised for him. “This isn’t totally unfamiliar territory for me.”

  “Or me,” I added. “But, you know. From her side of things.”

  “That’s true,” Neil said, his face lighting up. “We have a bit of an advantage here. Sophie has been through what Amal is going through. She would know better than either of us—“

  “Yeah, I’m really glad my childhood trauma can help us out,” I said dryly. A uniformed staff member walked past with a huge silver tureen, and I quickly sidestepped with an, “Op, sorry.”

  Neil gave me his half-smile.

  “I can’t help it. I’ve been around my family all afternoon. The Michigan comes out,” I whispered. “Anyway, what I went through with my mom or, more accurately, what I put my mom through is nothing like what Amal is dealing with.”

  “What did you put me through?”

  All three of us snapped to attention at the sound of my mom’s voice.

  “Are you supposed to be having a secret conversation?” she asked, gliding toward us in the red satin Marina Rinaldi tunic dress I’d begged her to let me buy for her. “This room is echoey.”

  “My daughter is having a bit of difficulty accepting...certain realities about her father’s dating life,” El-Mudad explained smoothly. “Sophie was sympathizing.”

  “Oh, can she ever sympathize,” Mom said with a huff. “Ran off a lot of men, this one.”

  “If they didn’t appreciate your daughter, they didn’t deserve you.” The way Neil said the words made it clear he’d used that rationalization himself. I thought about his ex-wife, Elizabeth, and how she’d forged such a strong relationship with Emma, only to have it shatter into pieces during the contentious divorce. Was it any wonder children of single parents were slow to trust those parents’ new romantic partners?

  “Luckily, the people I date have been very patient and understanding,” El-Mudad said. Warmth blossomed in my chest. He wasn’t talking past lovers. He was talking about us.

  “My daughters are also very discreet,” he went on. “They know the importance of not sharing my private business.”

  I saw Neil suppress a sigh of relief. So, Amal wasn’t the type to vindictively sabotage a relationship. I wish I had been so kind to my mother.

  “Oh, she wouldn’t call her grandmother to report a condom wrapper under the couch?” Mom fixed me with a look that made it clear she had still not forgiven me.

  I smiled sweetly at her. “Your hair looks nice.”

  ‘Thank you. Your Aunt Marie curled it for me.” She patted the loose waves. “I think she’s going to do this for the wedding.”

  Getting my mom onto wedding talk was much safer territory, and I was happy to navigate it. “You don’t want a stylist?”

  “Why would I need a stylist?” Mom frowned at me like I’d suggested she ride down the aisle on an elephant.

  “Come along, El-Mudad. Let’s leave them to the wedding planning and find you a drink.” Neil clapped him on the back in the most awkward display of performative masculinity I’d ever seen, and they walked away.

  “So, he has a girlfriend, now?” Mom asked, her lips barely moving as she spoke the words in a low voice.

  “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. “What happened to the echoey-ness of the room?”

  She shrugged it off. “I didn’t say anything. I’m happy for him.”

  “Well, I’m happy you’re happy for him.” God, her whole attitude made me bristle like an angry porcupine. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  It stung so badly that my own mother actually thought I would cheat on my husband. In the first place, it wasn’t like cheating was some unforgivable offense punishable by an eternity in hell. I didn’t judge people; I minded my own business. Neil had cheated on at least one partner in the past, a fact that wasn’t exactly endearing or comforting but didn’t make me love him or trust him less. In the second place, I would never feel right breaking my vows to Neil, both the ones we’d exchanged at our wedding or any of the other, many promises we’d made to each other before and since.

  And in another, horrible third place, I hated knowing that because of her strong feelings about infidelity, she would probably never understand our love for El-Mudad. We could never be ourselves around the one person I’d known best for my entire life, and I could already feel small tears in that bond with every passing day.

  “Where’s Tony?” I asked, looking past her to the open ballroom doors. Someone entered, but not o
ne of the family members. It was a man in a tux, complete with tails, who went to the grand piano near the tree.

  “Neil, you hired a pianist?” I called over to the temporary bar where he and El-Mudad waited for their drinks.

  A hopefully non-alcoholic one for Neil.

  “I thought it would be a nice touch. For caroling, perhaps.” He took a glass the bartender offered him and headed back to us. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

  I blinked at him. “We flew my entire family on a charter plane to England so that we could have a family Christmas in our palace.”

  “Point taken.” Neil’s expression brightened as he looked to the door and spotted Geir, his oldest brother. Geir was shorter and rounder than the rest of the Elwood children, and definitely more reserved. He had a grumpy face, even though he wasn’t a particularly grumpy person. Neil, on the other hand, beamed like a headlight in adoration of his big brother. He hurried over and gave him an enthusiastic handshake before pulling him into a hug. We hadn’t seen any of Neil’s siblings for a long time, and I knew that despite having lived in different countries for years, they still got homesick for each other.

  I couldn’t understand what they chatted about initially, because I had no talent for Icelandic, no matter how much I’d tried to learn it. Neil had grown up bilingual since he’d lived for part of his childhood in England and some of it in Iceland.

  He considered himself multi-lingual, though El-Mudad had informed me that Neil’s French fluency was debatable.

  Neil led his brother to us. “Geir, you remember my wife, Sophie, and her mother, Rebecca.”

  “Of course I remember your wife!” Geir sounded insulted. “Sophie, it’s wonderful to see you. And you, Rebecca.”

  “I’m so glad we could all spend Christmas together,” Mom said. “As one big family.”

  Geir’s smile froze a bit before he said, “Yes, it will be…pleasant.”

  “I want you to meet my friend, El-Mudad,” Neil said, guiding Geir away.

  “Oh, pleasant, huh?” Mom said under her breath.

  “He didn’t mean anything by it.” At least, I was pretty sure he didn’t. “Neil’s family isn’t overly warm. Not like how we are.”

  “Not born with a silver spoon up our asses?”

  I shouldn’t have laughed. Definitely not as loud as I did.

  Neil shot a look at me from across the room, and I tried to get my giggles under control.

  My family trickled into the ballroom, carrying laundry baskets and garbage bags full of presents. Aunt Marie made the executive decision to push some of the carefully positioned poinsettias aside to start laying the gifts out.

  “Are we doing presents before we do dinner or after?” Grandma called out to no one in particular.

  Neil and I both went to her, and he hurried to take the large plastic tote from her hands. He huffed in surprise at the weight of it.

  “Let me take that,” I heard El-Mudad say behind me, and I froze up. Out of all of my relatives assembled tonight, my grandma was the one most likely to blurt it out if she thought anything fishy was going on, and she instantly set her laser-sharp assessment on El-Mudad.

  “Ah, this is our friend, El-Mudad,” Neil said, lifting his knee to support the tote from the underside.

  “Hello,” El-Mudad said with a laugh, taking the burden from Neil. “I would shake your hand, but I think I should save Neil from a hernia.”

  “This is my grandmother,” I said to finish the introduction.

  I needn’t have worried about what my grandmother would think of El-Mudad. He won tons of points just by having an accent. Her eyes lit up, and she asked, “Where are you from?”

  “Bahrain. By way of France.” El-Mudad had absolutely no trouble with the weight of the tote, and Neil looked down at the mineral water in his glass, ego wounded.

  I predicted an overhauled workout routine when we returned home.

  “Bahrain, that’s in the Middle East, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is,” El-Mudad said, smoothly changing the subject before it went any further. “Shall I put these presents with the others?”

  “Oh, I can take them out myself, if you can carry them over there,” she said, following him toward the tree. I overheard her say, “You know, my son was in Iraq. Not this last time, but Desert Storm.”

  Neil heard it, too, and he sighed in discomfort.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll ask him about the weather next.” At least, I was pretty sure she would.

  “All I’m hearing in my head tonight is ‘please don’t bring up nine-eleven, please don’t bring up nine-eleven.’” Neil grimaced and took a swallow of his drink. Then, as if guided by some grandchild-seeking missile guidance system, his head jerked to face the doors.

  “Afi!” Olivia shrieked, her little white patent-leather Mary Janes clomping across the floor.

  Neil crouched down, his arms open wide. Valerie had dressed her in the most adorable dress I’d ever seen in person—it had a freaking pinafore!—beneath what I knew would be a faux-fox coat. Emma would have drawn the line at even fake fur, but she would have objected in the extreme to her daughter wearing real dead animal.

  “My darling girl,” Neil murmured against Olivia’s cheek as he hugged her.

  “I missed you,” Olivia said, leaning back to frown at him in concern. “I thought you would miss Christmas. Where were you?”

  “We were right here, getting Christmas ready for you,” he said, and I saw a flicker of pain cross his face. One of his biggest regrets in life was the time he’d spent away from Emma as he and Valerie had split custody. I knew it bothered him to be away from Olivia, even though she wasn’t our child to keep to ourselves.

  “Sophie, look at my bow!” Olivia reached up to the giant blue ribbon tied around her ponytail.

  “It’s awesome!” I caught her hand and kissed it before she could muss her hair up too much. I glanced toward Valerie, who approached us. “Did grandma pick it out?”

  “Uh-huh.” Olivia nodded and squirmed down from Neil’s arms. “I wore this to the wedding.”

  “Wedding?” Neil asked, taking Valerie’s hand and kissing the air beside her cheek. “You look great, by the way, Vee.”

  It was a miracle my jaw didn’t lock up, as hard I ground my teeth.

  Old, possessive habits died hard. Even though Valerie no longer had designs on my husband—thank God—her shared history with Neil always seemed so much bigger and more important due to how long they’d known each other. Longer than I’d even been alive, which made things extra awkward. I was constantly reassuring myself that I wasn’t the villainous younger woman in a Hallmark movie about second chances.

  “Thank you.” She touched her hair.

  “Sophie looks pretty, too!” Olivia practically shouted, and I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. If the kid was already detecting relationship friction at three, we were fucking doomed.

  “That she does, Angel,” Valerie agreed with a stiff smile.

  “So, you took her to a wedding?” Neil asked, tilting his head. “I assume one of Laurence’s friends? Or did one of ours get married and not invite me?”

  “I’m sure someone, somewhere, is happily having a wedding without you,” Valerie said wryly. “But no. I don’t know where she’s gotten that from.”

  “It’s probably a new pretending phase,” Neil said while Olivia pulled hard on his hand.

  “Let’s see the tree, Afi!” Olivia demanded, trying to drag him off. Of course, he gave in quickly.

  I glance down at Valerie’s left hand. “Hey, if you want to keep up the ruse, you might want to take the wedding ring off.”

  Valerie gasped and quickly transferred the gold and diamond set to her right hand.

  “So, you guys are keeping the marriage a secret, too?” I asked. That was weird, but not the first time someone I knew had done that. My friend Penny had kept her elopement secret for months. But though Valerie and Laurence hadn’t announced thei
r engagement publicly, Neil and I had both known about it. What was the point of lying about the wedding?

  “No, not a secret, really,” she hedged. “I just didn’t want to tell Neil during the holidays. You know how he can be.”

  My hackles poised to rise. “You think he would be upset that you got married?”

  “I think he would be upset that there was a tiny part of his life he couldn’t control,” she said with a jut of her chin in the direction he’d gone with Olivia. “He doesn’t like change. Or closed doors.”

  Okay, hackles fully, entirely raised. “You know, I honestly think he’s so focused right now on our family that he wouldn’t have time to worry about butting into your business. If that’s what you’re concerned about.”

  It had better be the only thing you’re concerned about.

  She glossed right past that remark. “Of course, we’ll let everyone know, eventually. Do me a favor and don’t mention it until then?”

  I opened my mouth to snap at her, but Laurence came in, and she said, “Excuse me, won’t you?”

  Across the room, I caught El-Mudad’s eye. He winked at me. Beside him, Amal glowered. I looked around for Rashida and, to my utter, heart-melting delight, I found her with Neil and Olivia. Rashida had Olivia’s chubby little hand in hers and led her around the base of the tree, pointing out ornaments.

  I didn’t need to be threatened by Valerie at all, because what I’d said was true. Neil really was focused on our family.

  By the time all of Neil’s relatives and mine had made it into the ballroom, the noise was unbelievable. The elegant piano arrangements were not helping. I saw my grandmother approach El-Mudad. He nodded as she spoke, then he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Even the pianist went silent.

  “Everybody, listen!” Grandma shouted. “The housekeeper says she’s gonna open up those doors over there, so we have a place to sit while we’re eating. But first, we’re gonna pray.”

  I had forgotten entirely about grace. I spotted Neil’s brother, Runólf, looking uncomfortable. From what I understood, the Elwood family had never been the grace-saying type, even though they’d attended church regularly. It had apparently been like a club they’d been expected to attend for social reasons. Now, they were held hostage by my grandmother’s recitation of the all the people who’d died during the year and Catholic call-and-response style grace.