The Bride (The Boss)

by Barnette, Abigail

  “August twenty-third,” she squealed. “Oh, Sophie. You should see the venue. We’re getting married at the Tribeca Rooftop. Deja’s dad is loaded. I mean, not Sophie Elwood loaded—”

  “Sophie Scaife, thank you very much.”

  “You know what I meant. Anyway, he’s paying half, and Gabriella is paying the rest.” Holli did a little happy dance in her chair. “It’s going to be romantic. You should see our dresses!”

  “I can’t wait!” I was so happy our fight was behind us, but the victory was tinged with sadness. “I wish I could have been there for you.”

  “You still can be. I need a maid of honor who isn’t suggesting zoos and parks for dry bachelorette party venues. Besides, the dress was impossible to get on the goat.”

  I kicked her ankle under the table.

  “Hey!” She laughed. “You better gear up to give me an awesome bachelorette party, too.”

  “Wow, I hadn’t thought of that.” At first, I imagined a spa day. Then I thought, No. Bigger. It wasn’t like I couldn’t afford it. And I wanted my best friend to feel like the most important bride ever.

  Because to me, she was.

  * * * *

  Holli and Deja had their wedding in the Tribeca Rooftop garden, beneath a warm night sky. The ceremony began at sunset, with both brides walking down the aisle together in their gorgeous dresses that couldn’t have been more different from each other if they had tried. Holli had chosen a short, sequined, form fitting halter dress with a fluffy marabou skirt and pink striped tights, all in a neon pink that threatened to make our eyes bleed, while Deja wore a sleek, elegant satin gown that hugged her curves and trailed a modest oval train behind her. It was pink, as well, but a gentler blush color. Both brides wore matching stargazer lilies in their hair. And although there were no pink chickens in attendance, the ceremony managed to be beautiful and romantic somehow. They exchanged their vows under a trellis entwined with ivy and white roses, and when the officiant pronounced them wives for life, I couldn’t hold back my sniffles.

  The reception was just as gorgeous, with a fantastic band and an epic buffet-style dinner of unbelievable comfort foods. And after the happy couple’s first dance as wife and wife, I danced with Holli, and both of us tried to lead.

  “I’m so glad you’re here tonight,” she told me, tears shining in her eyes. “And you look fantastic in that. I told you that you would.”

  I tried to find the most tactful way to agree with her without actually agreeing with her. It was difficult to drum up enthusiasm for a ruched magenta satin tube dress, especially with a giant sequined flower sewn at the hip. But it was Holli’s wedding. I would have worn a paper bag if she’d asked me.

  I changed the subject. “You’re married. I can’t believe it.”

  “I never thought it would happen.” Her gaze strayed to Deja, who was dancing with her very handsome stepbrother. The love on Holli’s face overruled any protest she might have made in the past about never getting married. “I guess you have to just meet the one. Not that I believe in that ‘one true love’ bullshit. You have to meet one of the ones.”

  “Oh, shut up. You believe in one true love. You found her.” I’d never seen my friend happier with another person. Holli had dated rock stars, models, she’d gone to a Knicks game with Leonardo DiCaprio, but I’d never seen her in love.

  Well, except for with the George Washington Bridge. But I wasn’t sure it was reciprocated.

  “Speaking of one true love, I think it’s really cool that he came tonight.” Holli nodded toward the table at the edge of the dance floor, where Neil was making small talk with one of Holli’s cousins.

  “He’s not mad. I don’t think he ever was. Deja told him everything before she told me everything. He actually seemed sorry to have to let her go.”

  “She was probably the best assistant he ever had,” Holli said, and when I made an outraged noise, she protested, “What? You weren’t a very good assistant. You slept with your boss.”

  “You’ve got me there.” I shrugged. “I’m glad I did, though. Hey! Neil taught me something at Emma’s wedding. Spin me.”

  She did. I stepped on her toes.

  “I love you, Sophie. You’re the sister I never had because I didn’t want to have to share my parents and they were afraid I might hurt a new baby.” She hugged me tight. When she stepped back, a sheen of tears made her eyes glisten. “Go on. Go dance with that old man you’re going to marry.”

  Neil was already making his way across the floor, and I realized Holli must have motioned him over. “May I cut in?”

  “Always.” Holli bowed at the waist, circling her hand in the air, a parody of regal propriety. “Thanks, by the way, for the Vegas thing.”

  “My pleasure. Though I hope whatever you two got up to there wasn’t too illegal,” he mock scolded.

  Holli’s gaze canted upward as she flopped her raised hands in an animated shrug. “You know that saying. What happens in Vegas should involve law enforcement, or else it wasn’t a very good trip.”

  “I don’t think that’s the expression.” I laughed, and she just shook her head as she walked away.

  Neil’s arm slid around my waist, and I gazed up at him. “Thank you for being here.”

  “You love Holli, so I love Holli. It isn’t a sacrifice.” He gave me that gorgeous half-smile of his. “Keep that in mind when you have to be in the same room with Rudy.”

  “I will try.” I grinned up at him. “You know, after two weddings in one year, I think I’m fine with putting off ours.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” he said with genuine relief. “I don’t want to get dressed up again for a very long time.”

  “But you look so nice.” I slid my hand down the front of his jacket. “Then again, you look nice in everything.”

  He lowered his voice to say, “And you look nice in nothing.”

  I slapped his shoulder playfully. “Just nice?”

  “Magnificent, then?”

  “Mmm…okay, magnificent will do.” I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

  So, we weren’t about to run right out to the justice of the peace. And I was still ironing the wrinkles out of my future. But I had my best friend back. And I had Neil. For the first time in a long time, there were only good things on the horizon for me.

  I couldn’t wait to see what they were.

  Summer turned into autumn so gradually, I had barely noticed. I’d been so ensconced in working on the magazine, it felt like I had a permanent radiation burn from my computer screen; maybe I’d just mistaken that for summertime sunburn.

  Despite our best intentions to keep up our house without a full time staff, thirty-five-thousand square feet was pretty impossible, especially with me working constantly. There was no way Neil would ever be a domestic pro, so we hired a very nice, very patient, very short housekeeper named Julia. With her plump body and gray hair, she reminded me of Mrs. Potts from Beauty and The Beast, which I still hadn’t convinced Neil to watch.

  Since I spent the occasional few nights in Manhattan to work with Deja and our small but stalwart team, Neil indulged his passion for all things auto by making new friends at a private high performance track in Connecticut. It was a bit of a drive from our place, but he didn’t mind. I knocked on wood that he wouldn’t earn too many speeding tickets.

  After a lot of hard work and overcoming our differences, Neil and I finally came to the day when Dr. Ashley didn’t need to guide us. I was sad to see her go; I really liked her as a person. But you can’t be friends with your therapist. Though it was entirely scary, we discharged ourselves from the practice, trusting that we could go it alone. If any problems arose in the future, we could always go back.

  Holli tried her hand at acting, and she was surprisingly good. I never would have anticipated that, because she was a terrible liar. She was cast in a supporting role in an off-Broadway play, and she made the most of it. It was nice to have someone to go through scary career changes with. There were
a lot of tearful late night calls full of fear and doubt, but there were a lot of happy ones, too. We’d finally found our “things” and our goals seemed achievable.

  Emma’s fears about her marriage proved unwarranted, as Neil and I both knew they would. Michael had transitioned to a job with a firm that gave him more freedom, and Emma had taken time off to pursue IVF. We kept a respectful distance from that topic, because we didn’t want to be nosy, but I knew Neil worried about her.

  Michael and Emma visited us often, which helped Neil get over his initial grief of “losing” her. They drove out for dinner every Sunday night, and slowly, the house began to feel like the family home.

  “I fear winter. You won’t be able to come out anymore,” Neil said during one dinner in November. “The roads will be too dangerous.”

  “I think we can be the judge of whether the roads are too dangerous or not,” Michael chuckled. He was beginning to get used to Neil’s paternal possessiveness, just as Neil was beginning to warm to room temperature where Michael was concerned.

  “Quite right,” Neil joked. “I should trust you to drag my only child through hazardous conditions in a Prius.” The utter revulsion in Neil’s tone made me smile.

  “Hey,” I said, no longer able to contain our surprise. “We have some news.”

  “Oh, yes.” Neil leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on either side of his plate “Why don’t you tell them, Sophie?”

  I beamed at Emma. “We set the date.”

  “Oh, thank Christ,” Emma blurted, her hand slapping her chest in relief. “I thought you were going to say you were pregnant.”

  “Oh, god, no, nothing like that,” Neil said with a frown. “No, we have enough to worry about with the wedding.”

  “So, when is it?” Michael asked.

  “June seventh.” I was giddy just saying it. June seventh. Maybe I was a Disney-influenced, sugar-coated romantic optimist, but I couldn’t wait to get married, now that it was happening. I wanted the gown and the sappy traditions. I wanted to get dressed up like a bride and walk down that aisle to commit to forever together.

  Well, more than we’d already committed to that, at least. We were pretty “together forever” already.

  “June seventh?” Emma asked, looking nervously to Michael.

  Neil frowned. “Is there something wrong with the date?”

  “It’s, um…” Emma reached for Michael’s hands. “It’s just that I’m due June twenty-third.”

  I wanted to gasp. I heard myself gasp. But I didn’t, because every essential bodily system seemed to be on arrest.

  “Due where?” Neil looked between them, utterly oblivious.

  But only for a moment.

  He got up from the table, nearly knocking his chair over, and hurried around to reach Emma. She’d barely gotten out of her seat when he swept her up in a crushing hug. His face was red with the effort of restraining his emotions, but he finally gave in, crying happy tears against her head. “Oh, Emma. My sweet girl.”

  I jumped up too, my own eyes watering. Emma stepped back from her father and met my extended arms with her own. She hugged me tight, her chest hitching with happy sobs. “The last round implanted—well, one of them did.”

  Neil held out his hand to Michael, but brought him in for a hug instead. I never thought I’d see Neil happy that Horrible Michael had laid a hand on his precious daughter, and that added to my elated giggles. Maybe the fact that it had been an IVF conception had allowed him to remain in a state of denial.

  He hugged Emma again, an arm around her shoulders. “I’m in shock right now. I’m going to be a grandfather.”

  “Yes, you are,” Emma agreed proudly. Then she directed a very stern glare at her father. “No puppies under the Christmas tree.”

  “Twenty. I will give this baby an entire legion of puppies. This is going to be the single most spoiled child in America,” Neil vowed.

  “Hey,” Michael said with a wide grin at some realization. A realization that rolled out in one terrible, bone-chilling sentence: “Sophie, you’ll be a grandma!”

  I sensed a very stiff drink in my future.

  I sensed six or seven very stiff drinks in my future.

  But weird family stuff was what I signed on for, and I’d known that coming in to Neil’s life. What the hell. If they thought it was funny to call me a twenty-six-year-old grandma, let them.

  The Birkin would make a great diaper bag.

  Sophie and Neil will return in

  THE EX

  Spring, 2015

  THE HOOK-UP

  Author’s note: What follows is the missing scene of Neil’s encounter with Emir in London. It was originally written as a sneak peek/Holiday present for readers of the series, and is also available as a stand-alone e-book.

  I should have been embarrassed at the schoolboy thrill I got whenever I saw my mobile light up with an incoming call from Sophie, but it couldn’t be helped. All I had to do was think about her— and I rarely stopped thinking about her— and I wasn’t Neil Elwood, billionaire, but Neil Elwood, befuddled teenager.

  Which can be damned unfortunate in the middle of an important meeting one has flown five-thousand kilometers to sit in on. No matter how discreetly I tried to check the number of the incoming call, someone would notice that the most important person in the room had ceased paying attention.

  Across the conference table, Valerie tilted her head, her expression never changing as she stared me down. It is one of the more effective techniques in her arsenal. It told me I was caught, and in for the scolding of a lifetime.

  I tried to sound apologetic— and not relieved— at the interruption. “Pardon me. Terribly sorry, but I do have to take this.” I looked to Valerie. Her pleasant, neutral smile that never reached her eyes warned me that I would be hearing about this later. For Sophie, I would take my chances. “Please, do go on without me.”

  Before Valerie could protest, I slipped out and rounded the corner to my outer office. I answered the call as the door closed behind me, and held up one finger as I passed my assistant’s desk, indicating I was unavailable at the moment.

  “Darling, what a surprise. It’s nearly… well, it’s about six in the morning there, isn’t it?” As if I had to do the calculations. I spent every moment away from her thinking about what she might be doing; Sophie’s probably sleeping right now. Sophie’s probably having dinner right now. Sophie is probably putting lotion on those beautiful feet right now and would she think it odd if I were to ask to jack off onto them?

  She yawned, and I was brought immediately to our bed in New York, her warm, naked body curled up beside mine. Only one more night, and I would be home. That did little to ease the aching loneliness in my chest.

  “I wanted to catch you at lunch,” she sighed sleepily. “I know you’re going to be busy later.”

  “Yes, quite.” I pulled the door to my private office closed and went to sit behind my desk. My calendar was open on the computer screen. There, in blue, blocked out from eight to nine, was “Dinner.” Dinner with Emir, our acquaintance from the private BDSM club Sophie and I had visited in Paris. Dinner and a bit more, if the evening leaned in that direction.

  “You have to promise to call and tell me all about it as soon as you can,” Sophie purred. Her voice, God in heaven, the low, feminine alto was like the idle of a Ferrari 458 Italia. Although in arguments, I’d heard her speaking tone pitch as high as a revving Lamborghini Aventador.

  Just the sound of her voice got my cock up.

  “I’ll tell you, if there is anything to tell. We didn’t make any firm plans,” I reminded her. “If the dynamic is strange without you, it won’t be anything beyond a pleasant dinner with a casual friend.”

  “Well, I hope the dynamic is amazing, and you have a really good time.” Her sleepy laugh might as well have been a hand cupping my balls.

  “Either way, when I get home you’d better be ready for some incredibly filthy—” a knock on the door jarred me. “Lo
ok, darling, I must go, but I’ll call you before I go to sleep tonight.”

  “I’m holding you to that,” she warned me. “Both the call and the filthy sex.”

  Phones were fucking useless when all you wanted to do was grab your woman and kiss her senseless. “I love you, Sophie.”

  “I love you, too.” There was a brief pause, and I held my breath until she added, “Sir,” with the sexiest giggle.

  The knock came again just as I ended the call. “Yes, Valerie, for god’s sake come in.”

  “I’m sorry, am I inconveniencing the man who just ran out on an explanation of a foreign rights deal that’s going to make us millions?” Valerie unbuttoned her jacket as she sat in the chair across the desk from mine. “You know, it occurs to me that you aren’t really here.”

  “I’m here.” I gestured around me. “I am fully aware that I am not at home.”

  “You know what I mean.” Her forehead creased in annoyance. “I’m surprised you didn’t drag her along on this trip. You might have gotten more done if you weren’t busy pining away like a puppy for his master.”

  “She didn’t want to come. Too much traveling lately.” I didn’t want to talk about Sophie with Valerie. It made me vaguely uncomfortable, as though I were betraying Sophie in some way. Though I found it a bit tiresome that the two were so hostile toward one another, I came down on Sophie’s side every time. It would have been wrong of me not to.

  But it was difficult to stay annoyed when Valerie reminded me so strongly of our daughter. The way Valerie tilted her head to one side, eyes narrowed, was an almost exact copy of Emma’s own expression of incredulity.

  “Neil… there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t have handled this rights deal on my own. And even if I couldn’t have, Jonathan could have done. If he’s to take over operations here while you’re handling the New York office and I’m finishing the restructure of Porteras, Shouldn’t we have left this job to him?”