The Bride (The Boss)

by Barnette, Abigail

  “She does. She’s told me on a few occasions how much she likes you, and how she was sorry that she didn’t give you a chance when you first met. And last night, when she had her…pre-wedding jitters, we’ll call them, she told me that she was happy I’d found you again. She said we were ‘good for each other,’ whatever she meant by that.”

  “That must have been after I left,” I said automatically. My eyes went wide under his humorously accusing scrutiny. “I wasn’t eavesdropping! I came to look for you, and I overheard what she was saying. About the…family thing.”

  “I’m not sure how she would feel about you knowing—” he began.

  I cut him off, hoping no one around us would overhear and understand what we were talking about. In a hush, I told him, “I already knew. I knew when we were still living in London. I just didn’t want to betray her confidence.”

  That took him aback. I could tell from the lack of witty retort.

  “I overheard enough to know that you were convincing her to marry Michael, and I left.” I shrugged and accidentally stepped on his toes. The poor man would be on crutches tomorrow as a consequence of dancing with me. “It sounds like she convinced you to marry me, too.”

  “She did,” he admitted. “She told me that I was a fool if I didn’t marry you. You are, after all, the perfect woman for me, and everyone can see that. Or so sayeth Emma.”

  “Emma said all this?” I hoped he would pardon my thoroughly incredulous expression.

  “Do you think she’s wrong?”

  “I think she’s listening to a different ‘everyone’ than I am.” The fact remained that no matter how in my corner Emma was, she wasn’t Holli. “It’s not the same thing, anyway. Emma is your daughter, and I love her for that, and I love the relationship we have, but she’s not my best friend. That’s not how we’re wired. Right now, my best friend is you, and that—”

  “Doesn’t count, I know.” It was rare that Neil didn’t know the perfect thing to say. At that moment, it was an odd comfort.

  As we swayed to the music, further conversation wasn’t necessary. My thoughts turned toward what he’d said about Rudy and Valerie, and even Ian, a friend from long ago, but still a friend. He valued these people, the way I had valued Holli. Still valued her, I supposed. If Neil felt that way toward Valerie, there was no way I could ever make good on my threat to ask him to cut her out of his life. Because I knew, with absolute certainty, that he would choose me over her, and that it would make him as miserable to lose her friendship as I was to lose Holli’s.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he said, as the song slid into its final chorus.

  “I think the night is winding down,” I said with a wistful sigh. I’d been having such a good time, I didn’t want the reception to be over. My feet, ensconced in torturous Manolos, begged to differ.

  Neil turned our hands so he could check his watch. He stared at the face a moment, like a prisoner waiting for a death row reprieve as the second hand swept toward midnight. “Yes, well. It’s nearly one. I believe that was when…”

  Just as the song ended, the DJ, a professional who eschewed the show man voice common to wedding DJs, said, “Mr. Michael Van der Graf and Ms. Emma Elwood thank you all for sharing their very special day with them, and they ask you to please join them in the Roosevelt Rotunda to see them off on their honeymoon.”

  Neil stared off, utterly shell shocked, until I gently tugged his sleeve and said, “It’s time, baby.”

  “Yes. Well.” He cleared his throat. “We should go, then.”

  The guests who remained gathered in the rotunda, illuminated with soft purple and gold lights. At the feet of the iconic barosaur skeleton, Emma threw her bouquet over her shoulder to the delight of her single female guests. One of the bridesmaids caught it, and Emma hugged her tight. In preparation for their flight to destinations unknown, Emma had changed into her third outfit of the wedding—we had more in common than I’d realized—chic, high-waisted gray trousers, a white shell with a smattering of gold sequins at the slight cowl neckline, and a structured white jacket. Long gold earrings took over for the pearls that had been removed from her hair. Now she looked more like a movie star than a bride.

  Neil and I, Valerie, and Michael’s parents were positioned close to the door, and we all got quick hugs as the bride and groom escaped the gauntlet of streamers unleashed by their guests. When Emma leaned up on tip-toe to kiss her father’s cheek, his hand fell to her elbow, and it lingered there even as she hurried away. She looked back at everyone, and the smile on her face left no doubt as to how gleeful, exhausted, excited, and thoroughly in love she was in the moment.

  Neil’s throat moved in a painfully constricted swallow. I took his hand, startling him from his misery, and said, “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  * * * *

  Though it was after two in the morning when we got back to the apartment, Neil told me to go ahead of him to bed.

  “I’m still wound up from all the tension. Relieved it’s over, of course, but a bit jittery. You go on.” He gave me a squeeze, and I pulled his tailcoat around my shoulders as I walked to the bedroom.

  In the bathroom, I peeled off my dress and stick-on bra cups and wrapped myself up in my fluffy pink robe. I washed off my makeup and tried to comb out my hair, but I’d used a lot of root boost and the resulting stiffness made my scalp sore, so I decided to leave that project for the morning. I turned down the bed and was about to climb in when I thought I should check on Neil.

  Astounding leaps of deduction were not required for me to find him; I spotted him outside of Emma’s bedroom, a drink in his hand, suspenders slipped from his shoulders, leaning against the doorframe. He didn’t look sad, just contemplative. Since he hadn’t seen me, I left him.

  Not long after I’d turned out the lights, he came to bed, undressed in the dark, and climbed in beside me. Rolling to spoon against me, he asked quietly, “Are you awake?”

  “I am.” I wriggled closer and held on to the arm he draped over me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He breathed a sigh of finality. “I’m just letting go.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  We stayed in New York an extra night after the wedding. We were both still so exhausted that the drive to Sagaponack, when we had a perfectly good home in the city, seemed like something we could leave for another day. We spent a wonderfully relaxed Sunday with his relatives at the apartment, and Monday morning we drove with them to the airport to see them off.

  “Sure you won’t come with us?” Runólf asked by way of greeting as he hugged Neil at the bottom of the jet stairs

  “We’ll come and visit soon, I promise.” Neil manfully clapped his brother on the back.

  “I was asking Sophie,” Runólf said with a wink, and Kristine gave his shoulder a slap.

  “Stop teasing,” she admonished, juggling Annie from one hip to the other. The baby had grown like crazy since we’d seen her at Christmas, and was as blonde as her mother. “Of course, you’re both welcome any time.”

  “And we’ll be back for the wedding, if we’re invited,” Fiona said, giving her brother a look that mirrored an expression I’d seen from Neil a time or two.

  “Of course you’ll all be invited. Sophie and I were simply trying to keep the engagement a surprise for after the wedding.”

  “Stop haranguing him, porcupine,” Rose ordered her daughter. Neil’s mother had arrived at the airport swaddled in furs, despite the balmy May morning. She held up a hand to motion Neil down for a hug, and he bent over her wheelchair to oblige her. Kissing him on the cheek, she said, “I love you, little bird.”

  “I love you, Mummy. We’ll come to London soon.”

  “I’d like that.” She looked up at me. “Take care of my little bird, Sophie. Don’t disappoint me.”

  “I will, Mrs. Elwood. Or I won’t.” I stopped to straighten out my thoughts. “I mean, I’ll take care of him. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Her eyes narrowe
d. “You’re a good girl. I can tell.”

  Neil’s approval showed in the subtle tilt of his lips, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the quick wink he gave me.

  On the way back to the apartment, my phone rang.

  “Maybe it’s Emma!” I was dying to know where Michael had taken her for the honeymoon.

  When I saw the number, I thought I might be sick. I slid my finger across the screen to answer. “Hello?”

  “Sophie, it’s Deja.”

  Neil had leaned his head back on his seat and closed his eyes, but something in my stunned silence must have alerted him to the fact that serious shit was going down. He sat up, brows drawn together in his frown of concern. I couldn’t reassure him, because I had no idea what was going on, myself.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, um. Hi.”

  “How are you?” She didn’t say it the way people usually said it, off-hand, without really caring about the answer.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t come up with a meaningful one. What was I supposed to tell her? That I was utterly broken without Holli’s friendship? That I constantly second-guessed my decision to tell Neil what I’d seen in that restaurant? That I resented her, personally, for betraying the trust I’d placed in her?

  I decided on, “I’ve been better.”

  “I know. Me, too. Holli, too.” There was a sadness to her tone that I wanted to revel in; a childish part of me felt that it was only fair that she be as miserable as I was. But that all changed when she added, “This whole you and her not being friends thing? It isn’t working.”

  “It isn’t working for me, either,” I admitted. “But she said some…really unfair things.”

  “This is Holli we’re talking about. That’s her part-time job.” She snorted, then sobered half a second later. “I’m sorry. We’re probably not at a place where we can joke.”

  “Not at all.” I wanted both of them back in my life, but I wasn’t willing to gloss past our troubles with humor.

  “Look, I’m better face-to-face,” she began, resigned, as though she already considered the call a loss. “I know you guys were planning on moving. I don’t know if that already happened, or if you’re commuting to the city—”

  “I’m actually in the city right now. I mean, we were going to head back, but… I mean, I’m here now.” I twisted my necklace absently. Did I want to do this? I wanted to fix things with Holli, and now, I had what seemed like an opportunity. But if it didn’t happen, if I did more harm than good…

  “Can you meet me? For lunch or a drink or something?”

  “I can do a drink.” It was less of a time commitment than lunch. If things didn’t go well, we wouldn’t be stuck staring at each other over half-eaten plates of food, wondering when we could run away without seeming rude.

  “Okay, so…two o’clock?” Her relief poured over the line; it had never occurred to me that Deja would feel like I was entitled to anger over the situation.

  “Two is fine. Just text me an address.” When I hung up, I turned to Neil, my eyes so wide that my eyelids kinda hurt. “That was Deja.”

  “I assumed it was either her, or Holli. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. I’m…cautiously optimistic?” I shrugged. “Look, I don’t know how long this is going to take, and I know you wanted to get home. Why don’t you go on ahead, I’ll call the helicopter guy and get a last minute charter, and I’ll be home before dinner. Or, I’ll hire a car and be back after dinner. Just keep it warm for me.”

  His eyebrows hitched up a fraction, either in surprise that I would voluntarily get on a helicopter again, or that I was cavalierly making a choice that I would have dismissed as frivolous and bourgeois just a few months before. “If that’s what you want to do. I’ll have Tony drop you at the apartment?”

  Before I got out of the car, Neil gave me an extra-long kiss in lieu of a pep talk, which was appreciated, and made sure I would be okay one final time before he and Tony set off for home. And while I really was cautiously optimistic about this meeting, I dreaded it. I ate some lunch and tried to watch some television. I called and arranged a charter back to the house. I went through some of the stuff we’d left behind, to see if I’d forgotten anything I couldn’t live without once I found it, but there was nothing. I ended up sitting in the kitchen, drinking too much coffee and watching the clock until it was time to leave.

  Deja sent a text with the address of a bar in the village. I took the subway—it was nice to revisit the stinky, stale air of my first NYC mode of transport—and found the place. It was quiet, dark, and uncomplicated.

  Deja was waiting in one of the high-backed booths, facing the door. Her chest rose with a visible breath when I stepped inside. She’d changed her hair since I’d last seen her. Now one side fell in an impeccable asymmetrical bob so straight it looked like you could cut yourself on the ends, and the other side clipped short in a graceful arch around her ear. As always, she was dressed rock star cool, to the point that a passerby would likely stop and wonder if they’d seen her on TV before. Her dark, exaggerated eye makeup looked effortlessly applied, and the subtle bronzer on her dark, golden brown skin accentuated her perfect cheekbones.

  “Hey,” I said, feeling like a slob in the long-sleeve T, jeans, and mostly bare face I’d just planned to wear on the drive back to Sagaponack. Though I wasn’t in fashion journalism anymore, “look” was always on my mind, whether it was healthy or helpful or not. “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” She plucked at her matte black leather vest, worn open over a long, tight white t-shirt with burnouts that revealed a black cami underneath. “I didn’t know what to wear.”

  A server stepped over and took our drink orders, and Deja and I sat in part awkward silence, part inconsequential awkward chitchat until the woman returned with them. I sipped my rum and coke through a straw. I needed something to fortify myself for the helicopter.

  It was Deja who broke the silence. “Look, I’m really nervous. Because I feel like I only have one shot at this.”

  “One shot at what?” I hoped this was about a reconciliation between me and Holli. If it wasn’t, I would be crushed.

  She folded her hands on the tabletop. “First of all, Holli doesn’t know I’m here. She carries a grudge like some people carry mononucleosis. It might be better if we don’t mention this to her.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She won’t communicate with me, anyway.” Did that sound petty and hurt? If it did, maybe I was entitled to a little bit of that. If Holli was still mad, then this wasn’t about us becoming friends again. At least, not today.

  “Good. Second,” Deja went on, “You deserve an apology. I was dishonest with you from the moment I met you.”

  “You were the mole, weren’t you?” I hadn’t wanted to believe it was actually her. I’d been perfectly happy with India’s explanation that it had been Jessica, and a few other people who’d remained loyal to Gabriella. “But you didn’t even work for Gabriella. You came in later. HR even investigated your work history, there couldn’t have been any link to her, or Neil wouldn’t have hired you. It would have been—”

  “Suspicious?” She nodded. “That’s why Gabriella and I thought it would be so perfect. Nobody in the industry knew anything about me.”

  “Then…what’s your relationship to Gabriella?”

  She took a deep breath. “My mom and Gabriella grew up together. They went to the same private school, they even went to the same rich girl summer camp,” Deja said with a bitter laugh. “I went there, too. But I wasn’t as good at fitting in as my mom was. I was kind of an angry teenager. I got good grades and everything, and I got admitted to Bryn Mawr. I was planning to go there when my mom died.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” In fact, the amount I didn’t know about Deja was just starting to hit me. I knew she loved Holli. I knew she was a good person. So, how did a good person end up involved in a bunch of espionage crap?

  You ended up in a bunch of espionage crap.
r />   I decided I had to reserve my judgment, lest I damn myself.

  “This isn’t an excuse. At all. But when my mom died, I was self-destructive. I was going to blow my entire life, because I was mad at myself for not fulfilling my mom’s expectations of me when she was alive. And my dad was no help. He got remarried within, like, a year, and I don’t know if I wasn’t ready to let my mom go or resentful that he could, but I had no guidance.

  “Gabriella stepped in before I could ruin everything for myself. She practically bought my way back into school, she gave me a place to live… She basically became my second mom.”

  “But how did I not know this before? I mean, Manhattan is a pretty small island, for a place with eight million people living in it. How did no one know?” Especially since Gabriella was such an iconic figure in the fashion world. Because of her glamorous image, tabloids scrambled to unearth anything possible about her, and they were scary good at their business.

  “I didn’t want people to know that I was close to Gabriella because I wanted to get by on my own steam. And I did. I didn’t get my promotions at Rock Monthly because of her. I didn’t have her make any calls or put me in contact with any people. But she gave me advice, and she’s stopped me from doing stupid things to my career so many times…

  “The truth is… I had to do what I did for Gabriella. Without her, I would have never gone to college, and I wouldn’t have the life I have now. I would be… I don’t know. Waiting tables in Japan somewhere.”

  That struck more of a chord with me than I think she’d intended. Certainly more than she could ever know. Gabriella was to Deja as Neil was to me, minus the romantic entanglement. She’d prevented Deja from making a very big mistake.

  However, if Neil had asked me to do something unethical in return…

  “You didn’t have to do what you did. It wasn’t right.” I wouldn’t bend on that, no matter how much she apologized.

  “I know. It was low. Very low. I started working there with the intention of gathering dirt on Mr. Elwood, and I deserved to be fired when he found out. But once I got to know you, and once I realized how much it was going to hurt you, I stopped. And I never did anything that could have harmed the magazine. It never got that far. But I did harm you.” She looked down at her hands, then back up at me. “I told Gabriella you and he were together.”