The Bride (The Boss) (11 page)

“Think about it,” I went on quickly. “We can leave Sunday night, you can be back on Monday. Do you really want your first day back in the office to be on a Friday? You’d be so frustrated.”

“That’s true,” he said cautiously. “But I feel like the longer I delay…”

“Your company will still be around when you get back.
Porteras
and
Auto Watch
will still be around. Let’s just spend a few extra days together.” I chewed my bottom lip as I watched him consider. “We just got engaged. Let’s enjoy the moment, before we have to go back to reality. Please. For me.”

He sighed, and I knew from the sound of it that I had won. “I can’t say no to a damned thing you truly want, do you know that?”

“I do.” I leaned my cheek against his neck. “And you know it’s the same for me.”

“Come on,” he said, patting my bottom. “Let’s go up to bed.”

Snuggled beneath the thick blankets, I toyed with the ring around my finger. I lifted my hand, and I could still see the stones glittering, even in the dark. It was a nice ring, but it paled in comparison to the other gift he’d given me tonight. Neil was worth a thousand times more than any diamond, no matter the cost.

His lips brushed my shoulder, and his arm tightened over my waist. “I can never sell this place now, you know. It’s the place where I proposed, there’s too much sentimental value.”

I smirked to myself and wriggled down closer to him. “So, I got three things I wanted for Christmas.”

He growled and buried his face in my neck.

* * * *

Neil and I decided not to announce our engagement right away. He wanted to wait for the perfect time to tell Emma, in person, when we were all together. My mother would be the first person to hear, but I could hold off calling her until we got back to New York.

Our additional three days in Reykjavik were relaxed, happy, and totally boring. We ignored our phones, slept in, snacked a little too much, and prepared for our upcoming return to reality.

I’d worried that it would be strange, going back to life in New York after spending so much time in England. Having a life at all again, after cancer had isolated us from the world for the past year. We’d slowly been coming back to normal since Neil had gotten out of the hospital in August. But returning to our Manhattan apartment after the holidays felt like an official stamp; the hellish past year was over, and now we could get on with our lives.

I called my mom on our first night back. While Neil was on a video conference with Valerie and a man from a German publishing company, I paced the huge living room, trailing my fingers along the back of the leather couch as I got the courage to place my call.

“How was Iceland?” she asked right away. “Was everybody nice to you?”

She’d asked me the same thing after my first day of kindergarten. I had to smile. “Everyone was great. Neil’s family is really nice. I’m actually calling because I have some news.”

“Oh?” The sudden high, tight pinch to my mom’s voice clued me in that she might know what was coming.

“Neil asked me to marry him.” This felt more awkward than I’d expected it to feel. “And I said yes.”

There was a split second of silence. Then she said, “Honey, that’s great.”

“Is it?” Suddenly, I wanted her approval about this more than anything.

“No! You’re way too young. What were you thinking?” she shrieked.

“I was thinking that my boyfriend, whom I love very much, proposed to me, because he loves
me
so much that he wants to make that love legally binding in public.” My back teeth gritted so hard, I swore I could hear the enamel shearing. “I guess I was thinking, ‘wow, we’re perfect for each other, and I’m incredibly happy.’”

“Let me guess, he made some grand romantic gesture on a boat or something? Some textbook move like putting the ring in a glass of champagne?” She made an impatient noise. “Sophie, you are twenty-five years old. That stuff might work on you now, but ten years down the road—”

“He proposed to me on New Year’s Eve. A little bit before midnight. We had just come from Christmas with his family, we were in our PJs and exchanging gifts with each other alone,” I interrupted. Like hell I’d let my own mother paint me as some stereotypical vapid child-woman who’d say yes to anything, so long as there was a yacht involved. “There was no grand gesture. He didn’t even get down on one knee, and the ring didn’t fit. I know you desperately want this to not be a thing, but it’s a thing. You can either deal with it, or—”
Go fuck yourself
, my brain finished for me, but I decided to end with a stuttered, “—n-not.”

“How can I deal with this? You’ve never introduced me to a boyfriend before, and suddenly, it’s ‘here’s this middle-aged man I’m dating, and by the way we’re getting married.’ You can’t just keep dropping this shit in my lap!”

“This shit? This is my life, Mother!” I realized how loud I was and lowered my voice. “And if you want to continue to be a part of it, then I don’t care how you deal. But you have to.”
 

“I know!” Mom sighed. “Do you think I don’t know that? I’ve been with you through all your twists and turns.”

Oh, Mom.
I had to admit, I occasionally felt bad for her. When she’d had me, she’d had no idea what she was getting into. I’d always been headstrong, even as a child, and my wants had hardly ever lined up with hers. But this wasn’t an argument over an Easter dress or my curfew. I couldn’t compromise to keep her happy. “Then don’t give up on me on this one.”
 

I had her, and I knew it. She was silent for a long time before she said, “You know I’m not entirely comfortable with your situation. But if you’re happy, I’m gonna try to be happy for you. You just have to give me a little bit to warm up.”

“I am happy.” I took a huge gulp of air in relief. “Neil and I are really good together, Mom. You just have to get to know him better.”

“I don’t suppose I have a choice now.” There was a pause. “So. No grandkids then?”

“Sorry.” Even if I had wanted kids, it was pretty much a non-issue, now that Neil had gone through so much chemotherapy.

“Well, Marie’s kids will have babies, and they’ll probably need a sitter some of the time.” There was Mom’s always-looking-on-the-bright-side attitude. “I really will be happy for you. Even if I’m not the world’s biggest Neil fan—”

“I think I have that covered.”

“—I know he loves you. Because every day when you two were out, I cut another spring in that sofa bed frame, and he never once complained,” Mom said with no small amount of pride at her own craftiness. I wasn’t entirely sure why she believed that proved anything, other than the fact that she was a total nutjob.

“That’s horrible!” I scolded. “What is this, a white trash community theatre version of
Once Upon a Mattress?
”

“It’s a mother looking out for her daughter,” Mom insisted, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from pointing out that if anyone needed looking out after, it was a crazy woman who went sick house on her own sofa bed with a pair of wire cutters to prove some demented point.

But I had to love that she was willing to go to furniture-wrecking lengths over my happiness.

The next day, Neil went back to Elwood & Stern. Officially, that is. He’d been logging major hours from home on both
Porteras
and
Auto Watch
since November, despite his doctor’s instructions to take it easy and give himself time. He was itching to get back to work.

His alarm woke me at six-thirty, but I stayed stubbornly cuddled under the duvet until I heard him emerge from the bathroom after his shower. The master bath in the New York apartment was so cool. It was accessible only through a dressing room, a bigger, more organized version of a walk-in closet, with floor level heaters.

Seriously, how did I ever live without special vents to heat my feet in the mornings?

I scooped up the shirt I’d sort of—okay, totally—ripped off Neil the night before, and slipped my arms into it. It was going to need a lot of new buttons, so I closed it by wrapping my arms around myself. I went to the dressing room, leaned against the doorjamb, and looked in. Neil was buttoning the cuffs of his blinding white button down shirt. His gray hair was mussed and sparkled damply in the overhead can lighting. He caught sight of me. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“I can always go back to bed.” Squinting through my just-woke-up haze, I noticed there was something different about him. It took me a groggy minute to realize what it was. “You shaved the beard off.”

With great concentration, he picked out a navy blue tie with white pin dots. “It made me look middle-aged.”

“The fact that you’re about to be fifty in March makes you look middle-aged.” I flipped my bed hair to one side of my head and yawned.

He looked up with his half-smile. He really did appear younger without the facial hair. “Shut that smart mouth and come help me with my tie. I have an assignment for you today.”

My tummy fluttered. “An assignment? Is this some naughty student, hot professor role-play? Because I have to say, I’m kind of down with that.”

He placed me in front of the big, built-in trifold mirror.

“Hands to your sides please, you’re obstructing my view.” He lifted my hair to lay the tie over the back of my neck. “Stand up straight.”

I put my shoulders back, and the shirt parted, revealing a long swath of my nude body beneath. He stood just a little too close behind me, the silky fabric of his navy trousers brushing the backs of my thighs. When he reached around me, I fought the urge to rub my face against his sleeve; I hadn’t taken my makeup off before tumbling into bed the night before, and I didn’t want to mark his shirt.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked, his hands moving smoothly beneath my chin, looping the tie around itself. He didn’t need my help at all, he just wanted physical proximity.

I met his eyes in the mirror as he cinched the knot loosely around my neck. “I’m going to have lunch with Holli today. And Deja, so make sure Rudy gives her a lunch break at noon, okay?”

“Darling, I am returning to my company after a year away. I may be unable to devote time to micromanaging lunch breaks at
Porteras
.” He leaned down and sniffed the hair behind my ear. “I love the way you smell in the morning. Like sweat and sex and hot skin.”

“Mmm,” I said, wriggling away. “And morning breath, so don’t get too close. Come on, tell me what my assignment is. What’s this all about?”

He went to the wing chair beside his ridiculously overblown—and this is coming from someone who worked in the fashion industry—shoe collection. He took a pair of gleaming, mahogany-colored crocodile loafers down, as well as a pair of Berluti leather ankle boots.

“Whoa, whoa,” I said, holding out two fingers in the shape of a cross. “You can’t wear those. You made one of your magazines go cruelty free, remember?”

“
Valerie
made the magazine go cruelty free. I was just along for the ride. Do you want your assignment or not?” he asked, slipping his foot into a navy sock.

“Fine.” I leaned against the wall and yawned.

“Since you’ll be going out for lunch, I’ll have to revise my plan. I was going to ask you to edge fifteen times, then come by my office and give me your sopping wet panties and let me get you off. But I don’t want to intrude on your lunch with Holli. So, why don’t you come back from lunch, edge fifteen times, and then call me so I can give you permission to come?”

He might have phrased it as a question, but he spoke in my Sir’s tone of voice. It was a command, and it thrilled me to my toes.

“Yes, Sir!” I bounced on the balls of my feet, coming fully awake. There was no chance I’d get back to sleep now. “How do you want me to do it?”

He considered as he pulled on his boots. “Just your fingers, I think.”

“Penetration?” That was an important distinction. Sometimes, I wasn’t allowed.

“I don’t see what the harm would be. I’ll probably be working late, so give yourself a good seeing to.” He stood and came to me, and slowly stroked the backs of his fingers down my cheek, across my jaw, to my throat. My breath hitched, and my nipples hardened beneath the shirt.

“I’ll just need my tie.” He smirked and slipped it over my head before stepping back, leaving me wanting.

He put on his tie and his sleek suit jacket and checked himself over in the mirror. “Not bad. Sleeves are bit tight, perhaps.”

“You look fine,” I reassured him. He seemed to find his slight post-chemo weight gain distressingly conspicuous. “Everyone is going to be so glad that you’re back.”

“That remains to be seen.” He chuckled and gave his jacket one last tug to straighten it. He picked up his loafers—for changing at the office—and as he walked past me, he dropped a kiss on my forehead. “When you call, do make sure you’re wet. I want to hear it over the phone.”

* * * *

Even though I’d just seen Holli in New York before I’d flown home for Christmas, I was beyond excited to meet up and tell her my amazing news. She was going to freak when she found out I was getting married.

The truth was, between the two of us, I’d always imagined Holli would be the one to get hitched. And I’d expected it would be to someone who got rich from something to do with the internet. Or Pixar.

We’d had so many conversations where I’d resolutely declared that I would never get married. She was going to be shocked.

When I arrived at the restaurant—a trendy bistro near the High Line—Holli was already there, seated at a table for four in the center of the floor. Holli is a fashion model, and her recent career explosion meant that now when she went places, she got recognized. She loved it, hence the middle-of-the-room table. Everyone could see her that way.

And people really were noticing her; I saw a busboy step from the alcove near the kitchen to surreptitiously snap a photo with his iPhone.
Holy shit, my best friend really is famous.

“Sophie!” Holli hopped up from her seat, all arms and legs in her tight jeans and fitted black blazer. A thin chain suspended thick silver teardrops around her neck, and her hair—still growing in from the pixie cut she’d sported a year ago—was curled behind her ears. “I missed you!”