Sophie (The Boss Book 8)

by Abigail Barnette

  “Hopefully, her attention span holds out,” El-Mudad said, distracted by the phone in his hand. He lifted it to his ear. “Come on. We have to go. Get your sister and Molly and get out here.”

  “If there’s one thing we can be happy about, it’s that the girls get along so well.” I had worried that Molly would feel like she didn’t belong.

  “Perhaps Molly can convince Amal to go to NYU,” El-Mudad said. He wanted so badly to keep his daughters close.

  I smiled at him. “I’ll put a good word in.”

  Mariposa brought Olivia out, and we got our hugs goodbye as the other three girls hurried through the door and to the car. I took Molly aside for a moment.

  “Are you cool going off without me?” I didn’t want her to feel awkward. “I swear, I’m not dumping you off on them.”

  “No, it’s fine!” She sounded as though being upset or offended was out of the question. “Seeing a show on Broadway? Hello?”

  “And another one tomorrow,” I reminded her. “Hadestown, here we come.”

  She threw her arms around my neck just as Amal called, “Molly! Get in here, or you’re sitting with Olivia!”

  “Hey!” Olivia shouted in an outraged whine.

  “Be kind!” El-Mudad barked.

  Neil grinned at him. “Good luck.”

  “The same to you.” El-Mudad kissed him on the cheek, then gave me one, as well. “We’ll see you tonight.”

  Neil and I stood on the stoop while the chauffeur closed everyone’s doors, and we waved as they pulled away.

  I turned to Neil. “Now, we wait.”

  To keep myself occupied, I went to the kitchen and put on some coffee while Neil called the security office and asked our guards to stay discreetly close to the house. Julia sensed my jumpiness as I fussed with the hammered bronze urn and the gilded Butterfly Garden-patterned cups on the service cart.

  “Maybe don’t use the Versace if you think they will be—”

  “Airborne?” I suggested. I wondered how much our staff knew about the situation. “Is this whole thing super obvious?”

  The older woman let out a signature exasperated breath. “When CPS came? Yes. But I don’t want to get involved.”

  “I appreciate your professionalism.” I stepped back from all my pointless rearranging. “Can you bring this into the formal living room and leave it, please? And then you can cut out early if you want.”

  She nodded then left, and I paced in the kitchen until my cell phone vibrated with an alert from the front gate.

  They were here.

  I met Neil at the front door. He looked pale in his black sweater. I hated the color on him; it was too severe. I reached up to fuss with the collar of the blue button-down he wore beneath it, and he brushed my hand away. I settled for smoothing down the skirt of my mustard-yellow A-line dress.

  I seethed inwardly.

  Once again, we waited. And waited. Knowing now what we learned about the situation, I was sure Neil was right about it being a power move.

  When they came to the door, they didn’t step over the threshold.

  “Neil, Sophie,” Valerie said tightly. “Is Olivia ready?”

  “Come inside,” he responded, stepping back and motioning into the house.

  “We can’t stay,” Laurence said, his tone cold as he ordered us around. “Please bring Olivia out.”

  “No,” Neil said, and my chest tightened. He was calm and firm. I’d heard that voice before. It was his disappointed employer’s voice. It would not go over well with Laurence.

  Valerie scoffed. “Excuse me?”

  “Olivia won’t be going anywhere with you this weekend,” Neil went on. “And we need to discuss why.”

  The rage I saw in Laurence’s expression chilled me.

  Valerie had to go home with that rage.

  I was going to be sick.

  “There’s no discussion to be had,” Valerie said firmly. “Olivia is my granddaughter. You can’t keep her from me.”

  “You planned to keep her from us.” Neil’s accusation dashed any hope of a best-case scenario. “We know you were behind the CPS call.”

  They didn’t even have the courtesy to say, “What CPS call?” Instead, Laurence said, “What did you expect?”

  “I expected that we could work out our differences without underhanded tactics.” Neil’s tone was even.

  That only made Laurence more furious. “We expected that Olivia wasn’t going to be raised by drug-addicted swingers.”

  I quickly cut in. “Neil has been clean since he got out of rehab. Valerie, you know this.”

  “I also know that I saw you in the paper, wasted out of your mind and being carried out of some nightclub by your boyfriend,” she shot back.

  “That’s what this is about?” I had to laugh in her face because it was so absurd. “I’m diabetic. El-Mudad was carrying me to an ambulance because I had a severe complication—”

  “Do you mean an interaction?” Laurence snarled.

  “That’s enough!” Neil stepped slightly forward, and I laid my hand on his arm. But he was putting himself between Laurence and me, not advancing on him. “Our current arrangement isn’t working. It won’t continue.”

  “So, what? You just won’t let me see her?” Valerie choked on a laugh of disbelief.

  Neil and I said nothing. I was glad that both Laurence and Valerie were focused on Neil because I couldn’t have made eye contact.

  “We’ll sue you.” Valerie’s throat sounded painfully hoarse. “We’ll sue you for visitation—”

  I didn’t raise my voice so that she would know I was serious and had done my research. “And you might be successful. We understand that. But until there’s a court order, or until our mutual respect and trust heal, this is how things will be.”

  Where had that come from? For once, I’d somehow managed to sound smarter and calmer than I felt where Valerie was concerned.

  She turned her watering eyes to Neil. “This is how you’re punishing me, then?”

  “I’m not punishing you,” he said, still tense but at a lower volume. “But I don’t recognize the person you’ve become.”

  Valerie turned away. Laurence didn’t.

  Neil maintained a scary level of eye-contact with him. “I suggest you leave our home.”

  “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is going to be for the two of you?” Laurence asked, trying for smugness but falling short. His anger at their immediate powerlessness bent his mouth into a tight grimace. “Sorry. The three of you. And the kids.”

  “All of them,” I reminded him. “Even Olivia. You’re going to hurt her most of all.”

  “But she’s just collateral damage,” Neil snarled. “This isn’t about Olivia. It’s about winning. A moral victory.”

  I gripped his arm harder, praying he wouldn’t say or do something in the heat of the moment that would end up with us in court.

  Neil’s throat moved as he swallowed. “Leave. Or I’ll have security escort you off the property.”

  A second is a long measurement of time when it separates a silent moment from a potential explosion of violence in one’s foyer. My chest constricted, and my ears rang in the quiet suspense. When Laurence turned and slammed the door behind him, I stumbled.

  “Steady,” Neil said, catching my elbow.

  “Whoa. I do not like confrontation, apparently,” I said with a deep breath, keeping my voice low so they wouldn’t hear me as they stalked back to their car.

  “That’s only now becoming apparent to you? After how many years of therapy?”

  “It’s not the time to joke,” I warned.

  He was immediately chastened. “I know. I didn’t enjoy that any more than you did. I despise hurting Valerie. Even if it’s for the greater good.”

  “That’s only now becoming apparent to you? After how many years of therapy?” I mocked him with his own words. The knots in my shoulders loosened, but only a little bit. “I’m going to have the most destructiv
e headache from this.”

  “Why don’t you take something for it before we leave for the city,” he suggested gently. “You can sleep on the flight, and we can have a nice evening at home, just the two of us, while El-Mudad endures yet another ‘Let It Go.’”

  “That sounds good.” I headed for the bedroom, Neil following along behind me. Over my shoulder, I said, “You and El-Mudad have gotten a lot of one-on-one time lately.”

  “I hope you weren’t feeling abandoned, darling,” Neil said, crestfallen.

  “No, no,” I hurried to reassure him. “I meant that in a good way. I love your love.”

  “That was a fantastic line, by the way,” Neil said, falling into step beside me. At my confused frown, he added, “‘Our mutual respect and trust?’ Did you rehearse that?”

  “No, that was totally off the top of my head!” Why did my voice sound so chipper?

  “It was masterful!” He chuckled.

  We were supposed to be emotionally exhausted, not exhilarated, but I felt lighter now that the dread had lifted. It had gone horribly, but it had, at least for a moment, gone.

  When we reached the bedroom door, Neil turned grave. “In light of what this is going to mean for Olivia, perhaps I shouldn’t say it, but…”

  “You’re relieved that they’re out of our lives?” I finished for him.

  He took a deep breath of resignation. “It is. I know it’s evil of me. I never thought I would be happy to end my friendship with Valerie—”

  “That hasn’t happened yet.”

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong there.” He didn’t sound sad but resolved. “I’ll never be able to forgive her for this.”

  “Even if—” I stopped myself, biting my lower lip to make sure my mouth stayed shut. Neil and I both needed time to calm down and address that situation in a way that didn’t center our resentments.

  “No. Whatever you’re about to say…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so sorry. I have taken her side in so many arguments—”

  “You have,” I agreed, inwardly basking in the dopamine rush of finally being proven right.

  “I have consistently put you through hell, made you doubt your place in my life and my affections–”

  “Okay, Mr. Darcy. Let’s take it down a notch.” I went into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed the Ibuprofen, and dry swallowed four of them. Neil had followed me in, so when I closed the cabinet door and caught sight of him, he scared the hell out of me.

  “I’m not trying to be Mr. Darcy,” he went on, ignoring my shriek of alarm. “I just feel as though I’ve…well, I’ve rather had my head up my own ass about Valerie’s involvement in our life.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” I said, shimmying down my panties to sit on the toilet.

  Neil leaned against the counter, trying to continue his penitence while I peed. “None of this would have happened if I’d just listened to you–”

  “About what? I never once anticipated that she’d do anything to us about Olivia. It was you that she wanted,” I gestured to myself. “Do you need me for this conversation, or can you have it on your own while you take our bags to the car?”

  He turned without a word and went back into the bedroom. I cursed and finished up my bathroom business as fast as I could. Of course, he’d think I didn’t want to listen to him if I kept snapping back.

  “Hey,” I said, still drying my hands as I exited.

  Neil sat on the end of the bed, elbows on his knees, forehead resting on his clasped hands. He looked up with a fleeting, tight, not-quite-smile.

  “Look, I know you want to apologize to me for, I don’t know, the very existence of Valerie, but I’m not sure you’re listening to yourself.” I sat beside him and put my hand on his thigh. “I love you. But this apology needed to come a long, long time ago.”

  He nodded and said quietly, “I know.”

  “Mmm…do you?” I scrunched up my face, Thor-meme-style. “Because everything you’re apologizing for is stuff you’ve spent pretty much our entire relationship not listening to me about. It’s just that now, it’s affecting Olivia, not just me.”

  “Just you?”

  “You read my book. You know how I felt back in the memoir-worthy times.” Specifically, the memoir I’d written about those times. Neil had never liked the title I’m Just The Girlfriend, arguing that it devalued my role in his life.

  He’d never really gotten the point: that he’d made me feel that way.

  “Is this an ‘I told you so?’ Because you don’t seem to be enjoying it the way I assumed you would.” His voice held an edge of fully unearned annoyance.

  I saw my shot, and I took it. “It’s not an ‘I told you so.’ It’s a ‘don’t make me tell you again.’ You have to promise me, right now, that the next time I tell you something about Valerie…you have to promise me that you’ll believe me.”

  He hesitated. He knew I hid something from him, carefully omitted it from my Rumplestilskin style oath.

  But finally, he said, “All right. I promise.”

  I hoped it was one he would keep.

  On Tuesday, El-Mudad, Neil, and I sat in expensive leather chairs in front of our attorney’s vast oak desk, waiting for the man to arrive.

  “Look at how big that thing is,” I whispered, staring across what could have been a conference table in another life. “That’s even bigger than yours.”

  Neil’s hand hovered above my knee as he barely held back something that would have sounded polite and reassuring but would have meant “do shut the fuck up, Sophie.” Instead, he just laid his hand on my thigh.

  But I couldn’t stop jabbering. “It’s like the Resolute Desk.” At their blank looks, I explained, “It’s a desk the president sits at.”

  “How did you expect that reference to work for either of us?” El-Mudad whispered back.

  “Will you both…” Neil said softly, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit tense and—”

  The three of us jumped at the opening door.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” The man who entered had a kind, professional smile when he periodically looked up from the open folder in his hand. If he were over thirty-five, I’d have been shocked, but his dark hair did hold a little tint of gray at the temples. He dropped the file on the corner of the desk. “I’m Andrew Yang. I’m the family law attorney here. You’re John’s clients, right?”

  “I am, and my wife, Sophie, is. I’m Neil Elwood.” Neil put out his hand to shake Andrew’s hand.

  “Sophie Scaife,” I said as Andrew and I exchanged handshakes. As he moved on to El-Mudad, I added, “I’m pretty sure you did our prenup.”

  “Did I?” Andrew asked.

  “El-Mudad Ati,” El-Mudad interjected.

  “El-Mudad, good to meet you.” Andrew stepped back. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember that.”

  “I’m sure you do a lot of prenups,” I offered to excuse him.

  Andrew went to the black leather chair behind his desk and sat, flipping the folder open again. “I was just looking over some notes Jack gave me on your case, but I want to get a full picture here. What’s the situation with this grandchild?”

  Neil leaned slightly forward. “Olivia. She’s my granddaughter. She’s been with us since my daughter and her husband died.”

  Popping the cap off a fountain pen, Andrew scribbled some notes on the inside of the folder. “And what’s the custody arrangement currently?”

  “She lives with us full time. Sophie and I are her legal guardians. There’s no custody arrangement involved.” Neil had done a lot more research than I had; I’d have never known that guardianship and custody were two different things.

  “Both you and…” Andrew glanced up.

  “My wife and I,” Neil clarified. “We were named in their will.”

  “And was your guardianship contested at the time?”

  “No. Not at the time.” Neil’s jaw tightened.

  Andrew nodded, still wri
ting. “But now you’ve got grandma coming in—”

  “And step-grandpa,” I interrupted him. “That’s where this is coming from.”

  “Right.” He didn’t jot it down, so clearly that detail wasn’t of interest. “Have you been served any papers from the court?”

  “No. We expect to,” Neil told him. “We’re trying to be proactive and know our rights before that happens.”

  “Sure, sure.” Andrew flipped through some papers. “Tell me about the OCFS investigation.”

  “That was closed,” I blurted as if we were on trial. “It was a false report.”

  Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Was that a legal determination or…”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It just closed. They didn’t find anything.”

  “Okay, that’s great.” He sounded heartened by that. “If OCFS investigated you and didn’t find you unfit, that makes it more difficult to assert that you are unfit. I’m interested where you are in this, Mr. Ati.”

  “I’m their partner. The three of us live together with Olivia and my daughters.” El-Mudad shifted in his chair.

  Andrew’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t immediately close the folder and tell us to give up, so I took it as a good sign. “Can’t say I’ve ever handled a polyamory case before. I don’t know a lot about that lifestyle, so if I say anything insensitive—”

  “It won’t be anything we haven’t heard before,” I assured him. “We’ll correct you.”

  “Gently,” Neil added with an attempt at a chuckle.

  I took his hand and squeezed it, wishing I could give him any sort of guarantee that this would be okay, that everything would turn out all right, that the most important thing in the world to him wouldn’t be torn from us.

  “So, the good news is that you’re Olivia’s legal guardians.” Andrew gestured to Neil and me. “You have the right to deny visitation or grant it to whoever you want. Grandma can petition the court for a visitation agreement, but we don’t see a lot of success in cases like that.”

  “Valerie can’t just take her from us?” I asked for clarity.