The Bride (The Boss)

by Barnette, Abigail

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re going to marry my dad. You’re my family. Let me get this one with them, and then one with all of you.”

  The photographer snapped a few shots of them, a gorgeous, happy family, and then, as Emma gestured from her elbow to speed me along, I stepped up onto the dais and stood beside Neil.

  With my family.

  * * * *

  The dinner and dancing took place in the Hall of Ocean Life, under the museum’s iconic blue whale. Guests mingled at tables and two open bars on the upper level, and on the lower level, long dinner tables ringed a dance floor. A six-piece band, headed by a male singer with a smooth, silky voice, entertained while the elaborate vegan dinner was served.

  The cake—also vegan, naturally—was a tower of white frosting and flakes of coconut decorating the layers of lime- and mango-flavored spongy deliciousness. I wondered if the bride’s family got to have more than one piece. I didn’t really think of Emma as my stepdaughter, but I was willing to pull that card if it meant I got to try both kinds of cake.

  Emma and Michael danced their first dance as husband and wife to the band performing Billy Joel’s “Everybody Has a Dream.” I knew Emma had dragged Michael to dance lessons, but it seemed natural and not choreographed, and I watched them with the same rapt romantic fascination with which I’d watched Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip twirl around their Disney ballroom when I was a child.

  Neil danced with Emma, as proud as any father could possibly be of his daughter, and I was struck with such a deep, sharp sadness at the realization that there would be no father-daughter dance at my wedding. It hadn’t been important to me, or even a thought, until that moment. I had to blink back a few tears.

  Rose drove up in her electric wheelchair and set her brake beside me. “If you’re going to be my daughter,” she began, apropos of nothing, “then I need to know a little more about you without my son interfering.”

  “Oh, um.” I crinkled my brow. I wasn’t sure I didn’t need some kind of test prep for this. “I’m an open book, so go ahead.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, but didn’t address that. “Where are you from?”

  “Calumet, Michigan. That’s in the Upper Peninsula. See, Michigan has two parts—”

  “I’m aware of the geography of the United States, dear.” She fixed me with her sharp green gaze, and I felt like sinking back in my chair. “How did you meet my son?”

  “In an airport.” I was getting good at omitting the details of this story. “He had to get somewhere quick and he couldn’t get a crew for the jet, so he was flying commercial, of all things.”

  Rose clucked her tongue. “He simply needs to hire a dedicated crew. He’s a penny pincher, like his father was.”

  “Well, I’m glad, because otherwise I wouldn’t have met him.” I shrugged and went for a smile, but Rose was still stern and serious.

  “You’re much younger than he is. What do you have in common?”

  “Not a lot,” I admitted. “Almost nothing. But that’s what makes us work. We never get tired of each other, because we can show each other new and awesome things all the time.”

  “No, no.” Rose waved her hand in dismissal. “You aren’t on a job interview. Get it right out. Why do you love my son?”

  For a split second, I thought about cracking a joke about his bank account, but I didn’t see Rose as a big joker. So, I told her the truth, exactly as I had told Dr. Ashley months before. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I love him. Our personalities click, and he’s the only person in the world I want to spend my life with. But if you’re looking for a specific reason as to why, I can’t give you just one thing.”

  “You want to spend your life with him.” She considered. “You realize, of course, that his life is quite spent already?”

  “I know.” I hated thinking about it, but I knew. In September, I would be twenty-six. When he turned seventy-five, I would be fifty. Though he was healthy and in good shape now, there was no guarantee he would always be. His cancer could return. He could succumb to the heart ailment that had taken his father. I was keenly mindful of these things. “I know his father died very young.”

  “Far too young,” Rose agreed. “I’ve spent over thirty years without Leif. The loneliest thirty years of my life.”

  “And I’m going to spend a lot of lonely years, too.” There was no alternative for me. Either I would be with Neil for the rest of his life, or I wouldn’t, and the latter was incomprehensible. “I was faced with that during his cancer, and I can face it later. He’s worth it.”

  I think it was the right answer for her. Frankly, it didn’t matter if it was or not. It was the right answer for me.

  She considered for a moment, pinning me with the weight of her decision. It was clear that she would make up her mind about me right now.

  Finally, she said, “Well, you’re a good girl. And you love my little bird. I think he may be mad, marrying someone so young, but you may be mad as well.”

  Mutual insanity was not a ringing endorsement, but I thought perhaps I could win her over with some humor after all. “So…can I call you mom?”

  Her expression of disapproval never changed as she reached down, released her brake, and put her chair into motion.

  It seemed like once the dinner was finished and the dancing started, everyone was much more at ease than they had been that morning, Emma included. Neil, definitely, although the alcohol he’d consumed might have had more to do with his stellar mood than with some sudden acceptance of his daughter’s marriage and husband.

  “Woman,” he greeted me, affecting a terrible cowboy accent. “Might I have the pleasure of this dance?”

  I pretended to consider my options. “Only if you stop talking like that. Otherwise, I’ll be embarrassed to be seen with you.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed in his normal voice, and extended his hand. I took it as I rose from my chair and let him lead me out to the floor. The couples around us looked to be having fun, which I knew was important to Emma and Michael. Every couple was smiling as they danced to the band performing Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me.”

  “Have I mentioned that you look amazing tonight?” he asked, resting his hand on my waist.

  “You’ve been distracted by more important things.” But the compliment was still appreciated. The dress Emma had helped me pick really did look “knock out sexy” as she’d described it in the store. “How are you holding up?”

  “Tolerably well, I would say. The real test will be when they leave on their honeymoon tonight.”

  “Where are they going?” I asked. “Emma hasn’t mentioned anything about it.”

  “Ah. That is because Emma doesn’t know anything about it.” He frowned down at me. “You realize we can’t both lead.”

  “I’m not a good dancer.” I shrugged. “What do you mean she doesn’t know anything about it?”

  “Michael is surprising her.”

  That was really romantic. That arrangement would drive me crazy, but it was still romantic. “I can’t believe she went along with that.”

  “She is a much different person now than when they first started dating. Three years ago, she would never have agreed to it.”

  “Well, I’m proud of you.” I beamed up at him. “You didn’t object when they said that ‘any objections’ part.”

  “Oh, it took herculean restraint,” he assured me with an expression of self-importance that melted into a smile. He leaned down and whispered, “You know, my favorite dance with you was that first night in your apartment.”

  All of my blood rushed to my skin, and I was sure that above the plunging neckline of my dress, my skin was bright pink. That night had been incredible. Neil had come home from England and called me the moment he’d gotten back to the city. High on pills, he’d come to my house, where I’d been catastrophically drunk, and we’d danced to Norah Jones in
my bedroom. It had been both extremely fucked up and unbearably romantic.

  I didn’t have a response to that.

  After another chorus, I asked, “Hey, you’re a good dancer. Can you spin me?”

  “I’m sure I could, but I’m not entirely sure you can handle being spun,” he quipped, and I slapped him on the shoulder. He relented, gripping my hand and rolling my body into motion down the length of his arm. When I yo-yoed back, I stepped on his foot, but he was still nice enough to bend me in a shallow dip before righting me again.

  “Thank you,” I said with a breathless laugh. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “Well, I live to serve.”

  I rose on my tiptoes and whispered, “That’s my line, Sir,” close to his ear. His fingers dug into my waist in a second of possessive lust. I really liked Neil on red wine.

  “By the way,” he said, fitting his arm around me tighter. “What you said last night, about the flower arrangements?”

  I thought about it a second, and when I realized what he was referring to, I giggled. “Oh the thing about having them at our wedding?”

  “Yes. Put that out of your mind.” He pulled a face. “These are ghastly.”

  “Aww, I like them.” It was such a relief to be talking to him without the ghost of our fight in the way. I’d dreaded the wedding, worrying that once it was over, we might very likely be. I was so happy, I could cry, but I didn’t because my eyeliner was almost perfectly symmetrical for the first time in my life.

  As the evening wore on and the party kept gaining momentum, I met more of Emma and Michael’s friends, and some of Neil’s who hadn’t been able to attend his birthday party. I chatted with his sisters-in-law and caught them up on the engagement and the new house. I did not destroy Valerie with hate fire from my eyes when she asked Neil for a dance; it would have been weird if the bride’s parents didn’t.

  At around nine, the band packed up and made way for a DJ, and Emma had changed to a cocktail length ivory bandage dress that was perfect for slinky dance moves. Neil was ensconced in manful chatter with guys his own age, whom I assumed were his friends.

  “Good evening, Ms. Scaife.”

  I turned to see Ian, tuxedo jacket off, black bow tie dangling undone around his neck. A lop-sided smile graced his angular face. I don’t think the title “silver fox” could have been more apt for him; his hair was silver, and his face was a bit fox-like, but with larger, kinder eyes.

  “Hey, Ian!” I patted the seat beside me. “Where’s Gena?”

  “You’re good with names. I’m impressed.” He had the most fun Scottish accent. He sat beside me and stretched one long leg out in front of him, slouching against the hardback seat. “Sadly, Gena’s dear auntie Judith passed away, and she had to fly to Chicago for the funeral.”

  “And you didn’t go?” It seemed like a shitty thing, to let your wife go to a funeral for a departed loved one and not go with her.

  He shrugged. “She’d rather travel alone on this one. Her family… Let’s just say I don’t crave togetherness, and the feeling is mutual.”

  My gaze strayed to Valerie at the next table. I couldn’t help it. She sat with Rudy, both of them laughing and sipping their drinks. I turned back and forced a bright smile. “Oh, I think I understand.”

  He tilted his head forward a bit, to indicate Valerie’s direction. “I’m sure you do.”

  That seemed like a conversation ender, but to my surprise, he didn’t excuse himself. I had to think of something to say. “So, you went to school with Neil. Any scandalous stories you could tell me?”

  Ian’s eyes sparkled at the chance to tattle on his friend. “I assume he’s already told you about the unofficial university kink club? And stealing the pro-chancellor’s son’s car and getting it stuck in a very narrow hallway?”

  “The former, yes, the latter, no,” I laughed, leaning forward for every juicy detail. “Tell me.”

  He mimicked my posture, creating a tableau of very obvious conspiracy. “This kid, he was the definition of a wanker. The kind of guy who would act like he had your back and then he’d throw you under a fucking bus if he got the chance. And he made such a huge deal about his father being in administration. We were meant to do a group study project, one of those horrible things nobody likes to do, and he fucked us over. You don’t need the details of that to appreciate the story.

  “So Neil gets this brilliant idea to push the twat’s car through these big double doors in the maintenance department and roll it down the center hall of this building. Now, this wasn’t the most modern building. and Neil hadn’t taken into account that while the hallway looks big enough to fit this mini down the center, it’s not the same width all the way down. We get the damn thing about halfway, and suddenly it’s stuck. It’s just not going to budge a fucking inch.”

  I was pretty sure my eyebrows were in my hairline as I listened to the story. I would never, in my entire life, have guessed that Neil had been the kind of college kid who’d done pranks. Let alone poorly thought out pranks that ended in disaster.

  I was impressed, too, by Ian’s colorful vocabulary. Something about the way he cursed suggested it was an art born of dedication, rather than a hobby on his part. It was hypnotic, the way profanity rolled effortlessly from his mouth. I swore a lot. Neil swore. Holli was a fountain of obscenities. But this guy was a pro.

  “So, Neil and I climb over the roof of the car, denting the living Christ out of it all the way, and we try to push it back the way we came. But it’s really lodged in there, and it won’t move. So he says—”

  “‘Why don’t you climb through the side window and put it in reverse, you stupid wanker!’”

  We both looked up to see Neil standing beside me. Ian rose and held out his hand. “Congratulations, father of the bride.”

  Neil used the proffered hand to pull Ian into a hug, and they drunkenly clapped each other on the back. “So, you’re telling Sophie all my secrets, then?” Neil put his hand on my shoulder, and though it looked like a gesture of affection, he was really just keeping himself upright.

  “I thought she should know what she’s getting herself into, marrying you.” Ian indicated Neil should take his chair, and he pulled up another. “Do you want to finish telling her the story, or shall I?”

  With visible reluctance, Neil said, “There really isn’t a very good ending to it. Ian couldn’t get in through the window, we couldn’t reverse it, and we had to run from the scene because a night watchman heard the commotion. It was only by the grace of god that we didn’t get caught.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t give us away,” Ian said, tapping two fingers against his knee in the unconscious gesture of a smoker in a smoke-free area. “Every time I heard anyone say the words ‘mini cooper’ I nearly shat myself laughing.”

  “Well, now that you’ve thoroughly unmasked me as a complete jack ass,” Neil began.

  “I’m sure she knew before, right, Sophie?” Ian cut him off with a noise of friendly impatience. “But that’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You need to keep some of the old guard around to warn the new people in your life just what a fucking tragedy you are.”

  Just hearing the easy banter between the two caused a phantom pain in my heart. It reminded me that a part was missing. A part I felt acutely, even though it wasn’t there anymore.

  It must have showed on my face. A slow song had somewhat cleared the dance floor, and Neil said, “Well, Ian, I think I’ll have another dance with my fiancée. Unless the two of you would rather—”

  “No, no. I need to take advantage of the open bar you’re paying for.” Ian got to his feet. “If I don’t see you before I go, give me a call sometime. We’d love to get together and catch up.”

  As we went back onto the floor, I nudged Neil with my arm. “You didn’t have to stop talking to your friend, you know. I wasn’t going to die from lack of attention.”

  “Believe it or not, darling, I am not blind to your emotions.” He w
rapped an arm around my waist and drew me close as Miley Cyrus’s “Adore” played. The super slow song meant the night was coming to an end, I feared.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be thinking about all that tonight. I should just be enjoying myself.” I rested my head against his shoulder. There’s no shame in getting comfort when you need it.

  “You’re thinking about Holli, and her wedding, aren’t you?”

  I lifted my head to meet his gaze and flexed my fingers where they were entwined with his. I hadn’t been thinking of that. It was May now, and we hadn’t spoken since February. I wasn’t going to get an invitation. I obviously was no longer the maid of honor. That chicken had flown the coop the moment I’d snitched on Deja. But to not even be there…

  I blinked back tears and got myself under control, quickly. “Not along those lines. But yeah, I suppose that will be coming up soon. I can’t believe we’re not going to be at each other’s weddings.”

  “When I see what you’re going through, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like for me, if I were to lose Rudy. Or Ian.” After a cautious pause, he added, “Or Valerie, for that matter. I know you believe I’ve been a control freak since I emerged from my mother’s womb—”

  “Graphic.”

  “But.” He tried for a stern, don’t-interrupt-me look and failed as it slid into a smile. “The truth is that without the support of my friends when I was starting my career and getting on my feet, I would have been utterly lost. I never wanted that for you, and I wish things had been handled…differently.”

  I wish your bitch ex hadn’t fired my best friend’s girlfriend and ruined my whole life. I took a breath, my chin tucking slightly to my chest, carefully censoring my reaction. “What happened happened. I’ve got you. And I’ve got Emma, now. I never thought we’d get along, but I think she’s come to like me a little. She put me in the wedding pictures.”

  “May I share a secret with you? That must be held in strictest confidence?” His eyes glittered, green like light through a dark forest. “She absolutely adores you.”

  That made me feel weirdly bashful. I knew I was blushing with happiness. “I wouldn’t say adores—”