I wondered if she'd even had time to grieve properly.
"Well, if you want to come back for the holidays—" I asked, hoping I wasn't crossing yet another of our recently established boundaries. Damn my midwestern hospitality.
Luckily, she declined. "Maybe after the New Year."
"You're always welcome," I lied.
After Olivia and Valerie said another round of goodbyes, Olivia and I started our walk back to the house.
"How was your visit?" I asked, wondering how to broach the subject of Laurence.
"It was good," she said, a bit reluctant and evasive.
"But?" I prompted her.
She snickered. "Butt."
"No, I was asking you if you had more to say. Because it sounded like you weren't done." There. No pressure. She could say more if she liked.
She sighed deeply, an Elwood trademark, and sounded defeated before she even began speaking. "Why nobody will tell me where Grandpa Laurence is?"
Boom. The only thing the kid needed was for us to show that we were listening. "Did you ask Valerie?"
Olivia nodded. "And Afi! And Daddy. So much times I asked."
"And they probably didn't give you a satisfactory answer, huh?" The question was met with a raised eyebrow.
"Sophie," she said gravely. "I am only in Kindergarten."
"They didn't give you an answer that made sense to you. That stopped you from needing to ask," I reworded.
"I asked you so many times, and you didn't give me a statistical answer, either," she pointed out sadly.
I stopped in my tracks right there on the driveway and knelt so I could be eye-to-adorable, Precious Moments-esque-eye with her. "You're right. And that's not cool of me. From now on, I promise I will tell you the real answer to anything you ask me." I put my pinkie finger out, and she linked hers with mine.
The moment we'd sealed the deal, she asked, "Where is Grandpa Laurence?"
I'd promised. Pinkie swore, even. "Grandpa Laurence isn't going to be seeing you anymore."
Her bottom lip trembled, and tears flooded her eyes. "Is he in heaven with my mom?"
No, and he never will be. "No. He didn’t die. We had to make Grandpa Laurence go away from us because he did a very bad thing."
I saw the uncertainty flash through her eyes. I quickly added, "Not ‘bad’ like getting in trouble for not sharing or for saying a naughty word. Something bad that you'll understand when you get older."
"Was he not a nice person?" she asked quietly.
Like she already knew.
"No. He wasn't nice." She must have noticed something. Maybe he'd yelled at Valerie, or Olivia had overheard us talking. I didn’t want to believe she’d been exposed to worse. "Olivia, sometimes people can be very nice to us, and we can love them very much, but the things they do aren't safe. Or they can be very nice to us and very hurtful to other people."
"Like playing a joke on Grandma Valerie?" Olivia asked, a tear spilling down her flushed cheek.
"What kind of joke?" My leg was going numb, and I could see my breath, but a tsunami couldn't move me out of this conversation.
"A tripping joke." Olivia kicked my ankle.
I wanted to throw up. "That's one thing that isn't safe, yeah."
"It can make you fall," she said, her tiny voice haunted.
"Yeah. And that's mean, isn't it?" I waited for her nod in confirmation. "Olivia...was he ever mean to you?"
She shook her head immediately. "No. But I think he was mean to Grandma."
"He was." I put my arms around Olivia and hugged her tight. "And I know it hurts. And I know you still love him, and you're going to miss him."
She nodded and sniffled against my shoulder.
"But guess what?" I choked back my tears. "You've still got so many grownups who love you and who won't be mean and unsafe. Okay?"
"It makes me sad." Her voice finally broke into a wail, followed by hiccupping sobs.
"Come on," I said, struggling to stand while still holding her. Since when did kids get so heavy? As I trudged us both toward the house, I sniffed her hair. It was gross. She didn't smell like a baby anymore. She wasn't a baby anymore, just a little person who needed someone to help her get through the world and make sense of it all.
I knew about the world in a way that Neil and El-Mudad never could. I knew the real world, the real challenges Olivia would face when she grew up and had to strike out independently. Yes, she would have an incredible safety net, but she would have to stand on her own feet. We couldn’t shield her from hard things forever.
Like Neil had shielded and sheltered Emma.
That's why, I marveled in my heart. That was why Emma had chosen me. Out of all the other adults around Olivia, I was the only one who'd ever experienced the world without unlimited privilege. And even though I thought of myself as a disastrous flake most of the time, Emma had seen a stabilizing influence.
Emma had seen parts of me that she'd wanted her daughter to know. Now, I could see them, too.
I could raise the hell out of this ward.
Chapter Sixteen
The doorbell filled my stomach with butterflies. We’d been waiting for one more guest to arrive before our party was fully assembled. Our New Year’s Eve party was an intimate gathering; Mom and Tony, of course. And the girls—minus Molly, who’d gone home for Christmas break. Rudy was there, and Ian and Penny with their adorable twins, who captivated Olivia. Deja had driven out with Piet that morning, but the guest who was late was probably the one most important to me.
“Fuck. That. Flight.” Holli staggered in, wilted and exhausted.
“How was Shanghai?” I asked as Deja met her wife half-way across the living room.
“Far away,” she groaned. “I was in the air for thirteen hours.”
“At least you made it home for New Year’s Eve,” Penny said, jostling one of the babies from one hip to the other. I couldn’t tell them apart when they wore identical outfits.
El-Mudad stepped beside me and slid his arm casually around my waist. I loved that we could do that now, even if I noticed my mother turn away slightly.
“What do you think?” El-Mudad asked, keeping his voice low.
Through a tightly clenched smile, I responded quietly, “I think there are way too damn many kids here.”
“No, my poor, suffering Sophie.” El-Mudad chuckled in sympathy. “I mean, are you ready?”
I glanced across the room at Neil, whose conversation with Ian had been interrupted. When our eyes met, Neil raised one brow. He was so handsome in his beige linen suit, the jacket unbuttoned over a white button-down with no tie. Not wishing to be outdone, El-Mudad had chosen bespoke Tom Ford, also in white, with swirling gold appliques on the lapels. Mom had commented on how fancy we’d all dressed for the occasion.
She had shown up in an embroidered Caroline Rose caftan and sequined Joan Vass pants, but of course, we were over the top.
Maybe I was, a little bit. My strapless Caroline Herrera gown glittered with white and gold sequins that made me look like I was wearing a giant champagne bottle label. The black slash at the waist exacerbated the effect, but I’d worn it both for the New Year and for the other celebration we had planned.
“Now that the last of our guests have arrived, may we have everyone’s attention for a moment?” Neil called out in the same clear, authoritative voice he’d used to call meetings in the office. Everyone turned to look his way. El-Mudad and I crossed the room to join him as he went on. “We had an ulterior motive for bringing everyone here tonight. Would you all join us out on the terrace?”
“The terrace?” Mom objected. “It’s like twenty degrees out.”
“Is it?” Neil pretended to be shocked.
“Don’t,” I warned him. The last thing I wanted was for tonight to be marred by the memory of my mother and my husband snapping at each other.
Nothing’s going to mar your memories of tonight, Scaife, I scolded myself. I turned away so my smile wouldn’t spoil th
e surprise, though some of our guests weren’t quite as obtuse as my mom; Holli gave me a raised eyebrow to indicate she knew exactly what we had planned.
Okay, so we were a little predictable. And dramatic. Dramatically predictable, even, since our grand reveal involved a white tent with glittering light from golden bulbs crisscrossing over our heads. A semi-circle seating area of cushioned, backless benches surrounded a table decorated to match our gold and white theme. On the table, photos of our family—El-Mudad and his girls pre-preschool; one of the many wedding photos in which Neil was more distracted by his adorable grandbaby than his super hot bride; and one that Neil had brought out from an album he hadn’t looked at for years.
It was Neil, so much younger than he was now, impossibly young, wearing a puffy surgical cap and a yellow sterile gown, holding a very ugly, very angry infant already waving an angry fist at the world. He beamed down at the little bundle in his arms, his face transformed by the same instant, fierce love I’d seen when he’d first laid eyes on Olivia.
I’d gasped at the photo when he’d shown it to El-Mudad and me earlier in the day. It had struck me that when Emma had been born, Neil had been the age then that I’d been when we’d first reconnected. Twenty-four, faced with the birth of his first child, looking down the barrel of single fatherhood after obliterating his relationship, yet he’d looked whole.
As I walked into the tent beside him, I realized that at some point during all of this mess and wonderfulness, he’d become whole again.
A tall woman with tan skin and striking shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair waited for us at one side of the seating area; the Reverend Denise Ochoa would preside over the ceremony tonight. Olivia pushed her way through everyone to be the first in front of the group. She climbed up on one of the benches and shouted, “Happy abortion!”
“Adoption!” El-Mudad corrected her in an embarrassed panic.
Behind me, Holli snickered. “That kid is fucking awesome.”
“Watch your mouth. You’re a mother,” Mom warned her.
“I thought you already had the adoption hearing,” Deja said, eyeing the Reverend.
“Yeah, don’t they usually do these things in court?” Tony asked.
I nodded. “They do. Olivia’s adoption was formalized last week.”
Ian applauded enthusiastically, and that got everyone else started.
“Wait, wait,” Neil said over the impromptu celebration. “We are celebrating Olivia’s adoption tonight. But we’re also celebrating something else.”
“As pleased as I am to be Olivia’s father,” El-Mudad began, “Neil and Sophie and I wanted to symbolically join our families, though we can’t legally marry. That’s why Reverend Ochoa is here; she’s from a local Unitarian Church that supports polyamorous families.”
“Not that I’m ever going to church,” I snarked, then cast a look at the reverend. “Sorry.”
She raised a hand and chuckled. “It’s fine. Would we like to get started?”
I smiled sweetly at El-Mudad. “It’s your last chance to run.”
“Never.” He slipped his arm around my waist and motioned to Rashida and Amal, who’d fallen behind.
Everyone found a bench—and the white faux-fur throws we’d provided to supplement the warmth from the outdoor heaters. Ian and Penny held a twin each and tucked the blanket around the four of them, and Olivia tried to sit at their feet to be closer to the babies.
“Olivia, remember where we’re supposed to stand?” Amal asked her patiently.
“Oh, right.” She got up and hurried over to her place behind the table. The girls clustered together beside us as Neil, El-Mudad, and I stood in front of the Reverend.
“Loved ones,” she began, opening her arms. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the love and the joy that is so deeply rooted in this family. Though we can’t seal their commitment legally, we can bless the love that Neil, Sophie, and El-Mudad share. To that end, they’ve each prepared some vows.”
“And placed a ten-thousand-dollar bet as to who will cry first,” Neil interjected, to the laughter of everyone assembled.
Little did they know, it was true, just like Neil had bet—and lost—the same amount for our first wedding.
The officiant nodded to us, and Neil went first. We’d teased him about that, attributing his volunteering for the job to his ego.
We knew it was really because he wouldn’t be able to speak once he’d lost his composure.
“El-Mudad. My love. I wish my heart could have been more open to you when we first met. But none of us were free; you had another love, and Sophie and I had…well. Cancer. I suppose the word does somewhat ruin the romance of these vows. Sometimes, I worry about what might have happened. If I had died, would you and Sophie have found each other again? What would have happened to her?” He paused, looked down at the paper in his hands, then up again. “Some time ago, I made a…very foolish mistake. And while I recovered—”
I couldn’t exhale.
“—I realized that I hadn’t worried that Sophie would be alone. I knew that you would be by her side in a moment. She wouldn’t even need to ask.” He cleared his throat. “Nor would I have.”
To me, he said, “Sophie. You already know how much I love you. I hope. Perhaps that’s arrogant of me to say. If it is, I’m sure you’ll note it in your post-game wrap-up.”
A soft ripple of laughter rose around us.
He went on, “You have saved me more times than any man deserves; you’ve guided me through so many unimaginable predicaments. And El-Mudad, you saved me when I doubted I could survive my grief. But the two of you saved each other, as well. Perhaps it’s unhealthy to cling to each other like life rafts, but what are partners for if not to drag us out of the sea now and then?
“Sophie, not long ago, you said something that at the time was...I don’t want to say flippant because, to me, it was profound. Off-the-cuff would be better, I think, to describe it.” He paused to collect himself, the way he always did when the words that would follow would be of the most serious import to him. “You said of El-Mudad and me, ‘I love your love.’ And that’s how I feel about the two of you. You both give me so much joy. And El-Mudad, your children are my children.”
“And I’m his children, too!” Olivia called out. She’d somehow wormed her way onto Penny’s lap.
“You are,” El-Mudad assured her.
“Loving me, living with me is…difficult.” Now, Neil sounded dangerously close to losing the bet. “It took me far longer than was fair to either of you to realize that I sometimes leave you to struggle in my wake. Thank you for your patience. And your presence. And for bringing so much joy to my life.”
His vows finished, Reverend Ochoa said, “El-Mudad?”
“My treasure, my heart, my beautiful Sophie,” He began, squeezing our hands. “I did not fall in love with you at first sight. And I’m so glad. For over the years, I’ve had the honor of learning your heart as a friend, as a lover, and now, as a partner. A woman who is challenging, encouraging, and, though you will deny it, nurturing. You are an ally and a teacher to my daughters that I could never have hoped for." He paused and cleared his throat. I squinted to see if I could spot a tear, but my own somewhat clouded my vision.
One of us would break at any moment.
"Not long ago, I made the mistake of comparing you to Cinderella." The corner of his mouth twitched. "But you are like Cinderella. Not because you married rich, powerful men, but because of your kind heart, your care for people. Even those who mistreat you. You cover your heart with expensive clothing and trinkets. You pretend to be shallow and materialistic."
"Pretend?" I couldn’t help but deflect his praise.
He chuckled softly. "All right. You exaggerate your shallowness and materialism. Slightly. But you only do that to hide the Sophie that I fell in love with. The vulnerable one who keeps opening her heart again and again, no matter what might hurt her.
"Sophie, your love is a gift I can never
fully thank you for. But I will try, every day, for the rest of my life, to express my gratitude."
He smiled over at Neil. "And you. Neil. My love. You opened your heart for me when it was most broken. You shared your pain, and you trusted me to carry it with you. When you worried about the toll your struggles would put on Sophie, you came to me and had faith that I could care for her after so many years of friendship, cherish her as you do. And then you let me into your heart. You made room for me in your love, room for my children in your home, and I will love you both, with all of my heart, forever."
There I went. I felt the salty hot tear of ten-thousand dollars slide down my cheek.
But I wasn't the only one; Neil took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his eyes.
"And Sophie?" Reverend Ochoa prompted.
"Why did I have to go last?" I laughed through my tears. I picked up my own folded sheet, hoping I could still read it through the watery sheen clouding my vision.
"There is a beautiful randomness to life," I began, careful not to make eye contact with either of them. "If I could go back and give one piece of advice to myself at eighteen...I wouldn't. Every choice I made, even the foolish ones, especially the foolish ones, led me to both of you. Younger Sophie made the potentially horrible choice to run away from college; if she hadn't, she wouldn't have met the man who would change her life and her character in so many ways.
"Neil, at our wedding, you said that some people think love becomes like an old sweater or a favorite chair and that we wouldn't be like that. I disagree, in the best possible way. Our love is comfortable. And safe. That doesn't preclude passion or adventure; it makes the exciting parts of life so much more exciting to have someone to share them with. And falling in love with El-Mudad, together, that's been the most exciting journey of all."
I turned to El-Mudad and cleared my throat; he took my hand in his. "You once told me that I was Neil's north star. If what you meant was that I'm always there to guide him, then you're my north star. When I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, you have a plan. And yes, you might make fun of me if the problem is small, and I'm overreacting to it. But I'm never worried that you'll judge me for my choices or mistakes.
Sophie (The Boss Book 8) Page 28
