The Baby (The Boss #5)

by Abigail Barnette

  “Well, don’t think you’re going to be procreating with me. One baby in the house is enough,” I warned him.

  “I can’t procreate, anyway,” he reminded me. “But I’d certainly like to give the process a go.”

  “I’ll brace myself for when you come home.”

  We walked into the hall, silent for a few steps as he led the way.

  “You are planning on coming home, eventually, aren’t you?” I asked, my stomach suddenly a jumble of nerves. “This isn’t a…permanent thing?”

  “No, of course not,” he reassured me. “Sophie, I’m getting better, but I’m certainly not happy here.” He halted me outside of a pair of large dark wood doors with gleaming brass handles. “Just through there is a dining hall where I eat very expensive, very bland meals. Apparently, they believe you lose your sense of taste when you’re mentally ill.” He led me farther down the hall and gestured to another set of doors. “Through there are the rooms we sleep in. I can’t show you those, but I can tell you that the twin mattress is too hard and far too narrow. I go to sleep in an icebox that turns into a furnace at three in the morning, and there is no one in bed beside me when I wake.”

  “It would be weird if there was,” I quipped. “And it sounds like it would be hot. And crowded.”

  “I’m not joking,” he said, suddenly very serious. “I can’t stand being without you. That’s why I’m doing whatever I can to get back to you.”

  Our walk took us outside and onto less serious topics. Neil was desperate to know what was happening with the presidential primaries, though he didn’t vote in the United States. I admonished him for not applying for citizenship, and we quibbled mildly through the familiar argument, which fit us like a comfortable pair of shoes. All the while, we strolled the immaculately kept grounds that tried so hard to not seem like they were part of a mental hospital.

  The fences, for example, were tall, native stone walls, but they were still meant to keep patients inside, as evidenced by the uniformed security staff making lazy patrols around the perimeter. The hedges were beautifully sculpted into geometric shapes, the paths were sand-colored crushed stone, but there wasn’t a fountain out here to drown in or anything anybody could climb. The safety measures made the whole place feel unsafe and unsettling to me as an outsider. I found my gaze and mind straying from Neil and our conversation to the other patients enjoying the garden. They all looked so normal. Why were they here?

  “So, does anyone ever go full on Girl, Interrupted here?” I asked, gesturing to my neck.

  “I haven’t seen that movie,” he admitted sheepishly. “It looked—”

  “Like a girl movie.” I rolled my eyes. “I won’t force you to watch it.”

  “I have a feeling that, once I’m out of here, mental institution dramas will be fairly low on my list of must-see entertainment.” The fact that his dry humor hadn’t altered bolstered my mood. He went on, “No, I haven’t seen any dramatic episodes since I’ve been here. I’m sure they happen, but they must be kept fairly under wraps. The other patients here are either wealthy or high profile, and I’m sure they don’t trust us to not tell tales.”

  “Oh, right. I shouldn’t have asked, maybe.” I chewed my bottom lip. “They made me sign a non-disclosure agreement with all sorts of scary warnings.”

  “They made me sign one, too.”

  Our shoes crunched on the shallow gravel as we turned for another pass around a row of topiary.

  Neil cleared his throat. “May I ask you something personal?”

  The corner of my mouth twitched. “We’re married.”

  “True.” He still seemed to struggle with asking. “When El-Mudad came to visit you…”

  “No.” I shook my head. “We did not sleep together.”

  I expected him to look relieved, but Neil just frowned and said, “Ah.”

  “That’s not what you wanted to hear?” I looked across the lawn guiltily, to see if anyone could overhear us. What would someone think if they did? Maybe they’d try to counsel Neil right out of our unconventional relationship dynamic. He wouldn’t take kindly to that.

  If Neil shared my self-conscious fear, he didn’t lower his voice or even glance around to see if we were alone. “No. No, in fact, I suggested it to him. Didn’t he tell you that?”

  “No. Maybe he thought…” I don’t know what he’d thought. “Maybe he was afraid it would sound like a come on if he said, ‘Oh, by the way, your husband said it was cool if you wanted to bang.’”

  “Yes, I can almost imagine him using those exact words,” Neil chided.

  “Don’t be a smart ass.” I don’t know where my anger came from, but it was suddenly there, so big and hot I could barely contain it. “You don’t get to joke about this. What you did… You abandoned me, Neil! And, now, you’re joking about the fact that you left me all by myself?”

  I should have regretted my words at his wounded expression, but I didn’t. He started to say something, and I cut him off. “No. You know, I get that losing your daughter was hard for you. But it was hard for me, too. And for Olivia. And, rather than stay with us and get through this together, you hoarded your pain until you had the courage to try and check out. It’s bullshit, Neil!”

  “I was just worried that you might be lonely—”

  “Were you worried I might be lonely after you killed yourself?” I demanded.

  He didn’t answer.

  “You killing yourself? It wouldn’t have brought Emma and Michael back. But it would have destroyed me. You know what? No. It has destroyed me.” Damn it, I didn’t want to cry, but there I was, wiping tears away with my thumb and trying to not smudge my makeup.

  I’d just made up my mind to turn and storm away, to leave him here to rot for all I cared, but he put his arms around me, and I was helpless. I needed him to hold me, because he hadn’t in so long. And, stupidly, I needed to be able to pretend that physical closeness would make everything okay again.

  “I do love you,” he murmured against the top of my head. “And Olivia. That’s why I’m here. I promise, I’m not going to try to leave again.”

  “I’m sorry,” I bleated against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to do this today. I was trying to be supportive, I just—”

  “You’re here,” he said, stepping back and holding me by my upper arms. “You’re here, when you could have walked away.”

  “Thanks for giving me credit for that,” I said, sniffing through my laughter. “This place requires international travel to get here.”

  He smiled sadly. “I’m sorry we’re here, Sophie. I truly am. When I can, I want to make it up to you.”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s not like this is something you can make up for, anyway. We just keep going forward. Get yourself better, get yourself home for us, we’ll go back to therapy, and you and I will be square.”

  He hugged me again, and I resisted letting go until the last possible moment.

  “I do want you to consider…” he began cautiously when we stepped apart. “Not to be crude or prurient, but I do feel that you need…”

  “To get laid?” I snorted.

  “Well, yes.” He put his hands in his pockets as we walked. “I’m not sure how you would go about that now, but ideally, if there were a possibility…”

  “If I get the diem, carpe it until I get rug burn?”

  He nodded. “There’s no reason your needs shouldn’t be met, just because I’m here.”

  “Getting your needs not met,” I finished for him.

  He made a grim face. “Oh, they’re getting met. I may be developing some kind of repetitive motion injury in my wrist from meeting them.”

  We found a bench and sat down, enjoying the spring sunshine together as we talked about other developments in life. I told him about the new apartment Holli and Deja had bought, and the sudden jump in subscribers we’d gotten after Zendaya had graced our cover with her amazing cheekbones. I let him know that Penny was leaving the magazine t
o move to the Bahamas with Ian, and got the “you should have hired a personal assistant for yourself a long time ago” speech from Neil. I told him about the trip to Cabo Mom and Tony were planning together. Neil listened and asked questions but didn’t have much to contribute on his own. The hospital wasn’t a very happening place, and he seemed reluctant to share much about it beyond what he’d already told me.

  I also gave him a heads up about a plan Valerie had hatched to take Olivia with her to London.

  “She wants to take her for a couple of weeks, no big deal,” I assured him, so he would know I was fine with it. “There’s some family there that have never seen Olivia, and it would give your sister a chance to spend some time with her, too.”

  Neil’s expression darkened. “Valerie doesn’t intend to take Olivia to meet—”

  “No.” That was a point I’d already put my foot down on. “Stephen isn’t going to ever see Olivia. That was something Emma had already expressed to Valerie, and Valerie is fine with it.”

  “Are you fine with it? Olivia leaving, that is?” he asked, studying my expression carefully.

  That was the big question, wasn’t it? “I don’t know. I guess I won’t until it happens.”

  “Well, to give you advanced warning, I was a wreck when visitation times rolled around. The house will seem very empty. You should make some plans to occupy your time,” he advised.

  “I will.” I wasn’t sure what kind of plans. Maybe I would just throw myself back into work, the way I hadn’t been able to since his hospitalization.

  “Good.” Neil’s watch beeped faintly, and he cursed.

  My stomach sank with dread. I didn’t know how long I’d expected to have with him, but I feared what his expletive meant.

  He silenced the alarm and looked up. “Darling, I’m so sorry, but I have a session in fifteen minutes.”

  “Right. Well, I don’t want to keep you.” I waved my hand like it was no big deal, while inside, I was still warring with myself for control. I’d known he wasn’t coming home today, but there had still been some part of me, some immature, unrealistic part that had been holding out hope that he would decide to leave with me.

  Instead, he walked me back to the security doors I’d entered the facility through, and gave me a tight hug and a long, lingering kiss.

  “There,” he said, his arms still around me. “That will give me a hand later.”

  “Ha ha.” How could he be so normal and not completely better? There was a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow, so I had to speak around it. “I’ll come back and visit any time you want, okay? Just call me, and I’ll be here.”

  “Hopefully, I won’t be, for much longer.” He kissed me one last time. “I love you, Sophie. Have a safe trip home.”

  “I will. And I love you, too.” I held his hand as he walked away, until the last possible second. He gave me a reassuring smile before he turned, and I watched him, my chest tightening.

  I had to leave, or I’d run after him.

  * * * *

  The emotional aftermath of my visit with Neil was brutal. While I’d thought seeing him would make me miss him less, it only made my longing for him worse. So, too, did the hope I had now. Neil hadn’t been catatonic or miserable. He was actually getting better. Knowing that, somehow, made waiting for him interminable.

  Worse, Olivia was going to be gone for ten days. Ten days, and over her first birthday. I wouldn’t be there to celebrate, and I seethed with envy knowing that Valerie would get to have that milestone without us. It was weird, how much Olivia had started to feel like my kid, instead of someone else’s. More and more, the guilt attached to those feelings seemed to ebb. Without her, I was really going to be alone and with nowhere to direct that energy. Mom would be in Cabo with Tony, and I supposed I could go back to work in Brooklyn, but I’d been gone for so long I would just be a pain in the ass around the office. So, I ended up spending the first two days of my alone time working from home, before abandoning myself to despair.

  On day four, Deja threatened me with an emergency visit from Holli. On day five, she delivered.

  I was laying on the floor in the den, listening to Boys for Pele and eating cookies when I had the will to lift my head. Then, I heard Holli’s voice somewhere in the house, shouting “I drove all the way out here, bitch, you better not be hiding from me!”

  “I’m in here,” I called, reaching for another Oreo. I took a miserable bite and rested my head back on the carpet.

  I listened to Holli’s footsteps and waited for her shoes to come into view. Her perfect black ballet flats stopped just inches from my nose.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” she demanded.

  I lifted my head to look her in the eye. “I like your shoes.”

  She looked around, perplexed, as “Talulah” blasted over the sound system. “Jesus Christ. Is this Tori Amos? Are you listening to Tori Amos and crying?”

  “No. I’m listening to Tori Amos and eating floor cookies,” I corrected her. “It’s different.”

  “You’re different. And not in a good way. How do I turn this harpsichord shit off?” She walked to the nearest panel on the wall.

  “She speaks to me,” I mumbled, turning my face back to the rug.

  “No, she doesn’t. She speaks to Neil Gaiman and girls who collect porcelain fairies and that’s it.” The music cut off, and Holli came back. “How high are you?”

  “Very,” I admitted.

  “And your last shower was…”

  “Last night, actually.” I left off the part where I’d been sitting on the floor, sobbing and trying to keep water from getting into my wine.

  “Okay. Get up. You’re getting cookie all over your white carpet.” She gently toed my side. “Get up. Get up.”

  “Okay! God!” I snapped. “You know, my life is in fucking shambles, do you really have to be such a bitch?”

  “It would be bitchy if I didn’t help.”

  She had a point.

  Taking the hand she offered, I got to my feet and brushed the crumbs off my shirt.

  “You are going to go take a shower, and I’m gonna take a luxurious dump in one of your many fantastic bathrooms,” she instructed. “Then, we are going to get blazing high and watch Charmed.”

  “I threw out all Neil’s drugs,” I told her. “Except for the weed. And that’s gone. Right down to the stems.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “But you obviously brought your own.”

  I went to the master bath and took a shower like she instructed, put on clean clothes—I’d slept in the ones she’d found me in—and tried my hardest to raise my energy level above everything-sucks-and-I-want-to-sleep-until-it’s-over. Having Holli here, and having a sense of purpose—even if that purpose was to just watch Netflix—was helping.

  “Where are you?” I asked over the house-wide intercom, and she answered back, “In the movie theater.”

  Shortly after moving in, Neil had remodeled part of the walk-out basement level with a home theater similar to the one we had in the Fifth Avenue penthouse. The difference with this one was that, rather than individual seats like a real movie theatre, there was one huge, square pit with a padded floor and tons of throw pillows to just wallow on.

  “How much semen do you think is on this thing?” Holli asked, patting the squishy floor beside where she lay stretched out on her side. “You can give your estimate in gallons, if you need to.”

  “Ew, gross.” I stuck out my tongue at her.

  “Oh, right, because you’re swallowing it,” she said, making a finger gun at me.

  “There has been no semen in this house for…” Ugh, I didn’t even want to think about it.

  “Not even when your lover was here?” She pronounced it “lov-ah” because she knew it creeped me out.

  I plopped down in the pillow pit with her and felt around for the remotes. “Nothing happened. It was actually nice to just snuggle. I’ve missed that so much.”

 
Holli leaned up on one elbow. “I would have snuggled you!”

  “I know you would have,” I reassured her. “I just needed some non-platonic snuggling. And a dude. I’m used to going to sleep with Neil.”

  “I dig it. You’re still banging chicks, though, right?” she asked hopefully, though I knew she was fully aware that our relationship would never go there. She was just psyched that we had another thing in common.

  “I haven’t been banging anyone lately.” I wouldn’t have complained about that to anyone but her. Lamenting your lack of a sex life when your husband was dealing with horrific grief and hospitalization for suicidal behavior wasn’t what most people would consider totally sympathetic. But Holli wouldn’t care.

  Holli was the least sexually reserved person in the history of people. She was like the Marquis de Sade, except without the shock value, pedophilia, and violence. She just did her own thing and didn’t care what people thought—or what they did, in return.

  So, I felt safe saying, “He wants me to sleep with someone else.”

  “What?” Holli drew the word out like, whaaaaaaaaat?

  “I know. That’s kind of what I’m thinking. How the hell can he be cool with me having sex with someone else while he’s under all this mental—” I waved my hand over the top of my head, as though that could indicate an issue beyond riding in a convertible with your hair down.

  Holli shrugged. “True, but maybe, for him, it’s not like that. He’s always been fine with sharing.”

  “Okay, yeah. Point. It just seems like I shouldn’t be interested in having sex when he’s going through all of this.”

  “So, the issue isn’t that you’re worried about Neil’s mental state, you’re just worried that you can’t live with yourself if you do step outside of the boundaries of marriage.”

  Damn. She could read between the lines like nobody’s business.

  “Okay, yes. But I really am afraid of hurting Neil, too. I don’t want to do something that’s going to set him back.” If having sex with somebody else would hurt Neil, I would remain celibate for the rest of my life. Not because I was a martyr or anything. I just preferred to have Neil, and have him healthy. “He has this habit of worrying about me before he worries about himself. Even in the note he left, he was like, ‘This is for your own good’ or something like that. He could be saying, ‘Hey, go get laid, I’m fine with it,’ when what he’s really doing is ignoring how he feels.”