The Bride (The Boss) (23 page)

“There is a state-of-the-art security system, as well as an intercom from the panic room,” Tom said as we walked the three wide, terraced steps to the door. He entered a security code and slid the key into the lock before ushering us inside. “I’ve already been in and had a walk around tonight, but there is a master control for the built-in lighting in the main living areas.”

The moment the door opened into the foyer, I knew I was in over my head. The room was an octagon, open to the second story, with windows that looked even taller than they were, due to the vertical lines of framework that divided each of them neatly in two. The floor was pristine wood that glowed a gorgeous, deep red.

Tom opened a door to our right to show us the walk-in coat closet. He pointed out that it could easily double as a coat check during parties.

Way over my head.

The living areas blew past me in a bit of whirlwind. The place came furnished, from the elegant prairie style dining and living room sets—“Vintage Stickley,” Tom informed us as I trailed my arm along the back of the sofa—to the sumptuous leather upholstery in the den. There was a second, less formal living room with a native stone fireplace and a loft accessible via an upstairs bridge.

“That’s set up as a very nice office,” Tom explained. “But there are plenty of rooms on the lower level that could be converted.”

“The lower level?” I asked. “Isn’t this the ground floor?”

“There’s a walk-out lower level,” Tom explained. “We’ll get to that in a minute. What I really want to show you is the master bedroom.”

The master bedroom, bathroom, and twin dressing rooms were situated on the ground floor, down a long hall. I was pretty sure the entire apartment could fit inside the suite. Enormous windows looked onto the vast side yard, and through two large, arched glass doors was a conservatory in a round turret with ocean views.

“This is insane,” I said, pressing my hand to the glass. Then I thought about the handprint it would leave. And then I thought about how much I didn’t care, because I could leave a handprint on a door in my own damn house.

We were going to live here.

I opened the door and stepped into the huge space, done up like a parlor. There weren’t any plants; I would have to change that. The graceful arch of a polished wood staircase rose in an unbroken swoop up to an open second floor that encircled the entire tower, and I wandered over to it. “Can I go up?”

“Certainly,” Tom said. “There’s a door to the deck, if you’d like to go out.”

“Would you mind giving us a moment?” Neil asked Tom.

“Not at all. I’ll wait in the hall.”

Once he excused himself, Neil followed me up the stairs. It was too cold to go out on the wide porch that wrapped around the tower, but from here, I could make out a few stars.

“I’ve gotten so used to not seeing stars. They startled me when we were back in Michigan.” I didn’t realize how homesick I’d been for them.

Neil stood behind me, his hands on my waist. He leaned down and whispered, “What do you think?”

I think it’s home
. That was what I wanted to say. But sensible Sophie reared her ugly head. “I think it’s a lot of house. Maybe too much house for two people.”

“We could get a dog,” he suggested, a little too eagerly. I wondered how long that had been a part of the domestic scene in his head.

“What size dog are you planning to get that it needs thirty-five-thousand square feet?” I turned and gazed up into those eyes that could completely undo me. “Baby, I love this house. We’ve barely seen a quarter of it, and I want to live in it. But how long will we be living here? Do you want to have to commute by helicopter every day? I’m not sure if I’m actually okay with that. I mean, what if you crashed or like, auto-rotated to your death or something?”

“Auto-rotated—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He winced, then raised his head, eyes directed at the ceiling, like he couldn’t bear to watch my face. “I’m retiring.”

“Right, when you’re sixty-five, and you want to go live at Langhurst Court.” That was ages from now.

“You called Langhurst Court Deadton Abbey. You also described it as being a thousand times creepier than the Haunted Mansion. And it would take you too far from your family and friends. Besides, Emma is living here now. What happens when she has a baby? I don’t want to be an ocean away from my grandchild.”

I forced my expression to remain neutral. He still didn’t know about Emma and Michael’s dire outlook on reproducing.

One issue at a time, Scaife
. “Okay, but still we’re talking about fifteen years of commuting via aircraft. That’s risky, isn’t it?”

“Sophie, you’re not understanding. I’ll be stepping down as CEO of Elwood and Stern. This year.”

My head went light, and I put a hand against the wall to steady myself. “What?”

“I thought about it quite a lot while I was in London. Seeing Emir was lovely, but I hated being away from you. Even when I’m just away at work.” He frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed running the company less.

“Money, I have. Time with you…that, I don’t have as much of as I’d like. We’ve both been so busy lately, but I don’t need to be.” He took my hands. “Almost losing my life has made me appreciate it more. I want to slow down now, and enjoy it.”

“Oh, Neil…” My heart spasmed. But as much as I loved the idea of Neil taking it easier than he was now, I wasn’t sure what he was going to expect from me in this new arrangement. “The thing is…India has worked really hard to get me this opportunity. I have to come up with a follow-up book, and there’s the launch party coming up. I can’t slow down right now.”

“Nor would I expect you to.” He walked slowly around the perimeter of the tower, brushing his fingers along the window frames every now and then, as though he were inspecting them. He stopped and put his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I’m not imagining a scenario in which we spend every waking moment together. But as it is, we’re trying to steal little bits of time together when they happen to line up. If I’m not working, we don’t have to do that anymore.”

Wow. I didn’t know what to say to that. It was a total one-eighty from the Neil I was used to. The Neil who’d tried to surreptitiously run a multi-media corporation from his sickbed. The Neil who’d fired his own girlfriend for fraternizing with the wrong people.
 

Who was this guy?

“This is not effective immediately. It will take months to finalize everything,” he began to clarify, probably because he could see the shock I was feeling. “But I do want to settle down. If not in this house, then…wherever you are.”

I looked down at my fingers braiding themselves together, feeling suddenly very foolish. Neil was trying to clear a path to our future. It was something I’d never expected anyone to do for me, with me. I’d sort-of expected to look out for myself. Maybe it was because of the example I’d been raised with; my mother never missed an opportunity to point out how much her self-reliance provided independence. I was grateful to her for the lesson, but now, for the first time, I was beginning to see where my thinking needed to change, if I were going to enter into a legally binding domestic partnership.

“And you know,” Neil continued, forcing a laugh. “I think I’ll make a very good house husband.”

If he was making a joke because he was nervous, he didn’t have to. “I think you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”

When I looked up, he appeared genuinely startled by my praise.

“I really mean that,” I continued. “You’re willing to give up this huge part of your life for me. You’re willing to change your plans for the future, just to include me.”

He turned and came back to me, taking my hands in his and gently prying my twisted fingers apart. “And you haven’t?”

Okay, he had me there.

He went on. “You passed on a job you worked hard to earn, just to be with me. After I fired you, no less. For the sake of our relationship, you moved to a different country. You spent a year with me, when I was vomiting and crying and feeling sorry for myself. What sacrifices have I made for you? Why shouldn’t I make one now?”

My first instinct was to point out all the things he’d done for me: romantic trips, designer clothing, houses all over the world. But those things weren’t really a sacrifice. He’d already owned the houses, and I could spend a small fortune on material objects every day without making a dent in his considerable wealth. We were standing in an eighty-three-million-dollar house, for fuck’s sake.

As for sacrifices… Neil hadn’t made many for us. If he wanted to do this now, so that we would have more time together without it being shaved from my aspirations, then what was I supposed to do? Argue with him?

“You know…” I nodded. “You’re right.”

“My god.” He lifted my hands to his lips, passion and longing in eyes as he gazed at me. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”

I slapped his shoulder. “Jerk.”

His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me up tight. “What do you think of the house?”

“Well, we haven’t seen all of it yet,” I reminded him. “But I’m impressed.”

“Could you see us living here?” he asked.

“I…” I sputtered in disbelief. “I could see us communicating by walkie-talkie, trying to locate each other. This is a lot of house.”

“All I ask is that you keep an open mind.” He kissed my hand for real this time, then released me. “Let’s get back to Tom before he thinks we’re fucking up here.”

The rest of the house was as unbelievable as what we’d seen already. Tom pointed out every luxurious detail and assured us that the buyer would be very lucky because of this or that item the owner was willing to part with. The more insistent the agent was that we love the house, the more resistant Neil came to showing any sign of approval, until he downshifted into a kind of emotional neutral. I watched the interplay between the two of them in rapt fascination. A sense of wonder and joy I hadn’t felt since childhood welled up inside me.

This was
exactly
like
House Hunters.

I’d heard Tom’s tone before, the self-conscious projection of confidence that the potential buyer would find the property amazing. Neil trying to downplay the fact that he was already writing the check in his head, though it was a totally obvious ploy. Which meant I got to step into the role of the spouse who expressed disappointment and dissatisfaction at everything.

It was like some dark and terrifying part of my soul had finally been unleashed. “I don’t like wallpaper,” I said in the fourth bathroom we viewed. In the kitchen, I lamented, “Oh…granite countertops are out now, though.” I expressed concerns about light pollution from the patio area and infinity pool. I wondered if it would be too far a walk for me from the garage to the bedroom, or if the bathrooms had enough natural light. I think for a minute I actually turned into the weird neighbor lady from the Hermés disaster.

If the helicopter crashed and we died on the way back to the city, I would die with my life’s ambition fulfilled. I could not
wait
to tell Holli.

We left Tom with a “we’ll let you know” when he drove us back to the waiting helicopter. As we strapped in, Neil gave me a wry glance and said, “I hope that’s out of your system now.”

I beamed at him.

When we lifted off, I looked down at the house. The sprawling grounds had a pond and various outbuildings, including an eccentric copy of the Pavilion Français at Versailles. Tom had shown us photos, so we didn’t have to brave the cold again, but I could pick out a few of the buildings now, darker spots against the green-black of the grass and trees. There was a guesthouse Tom had referred to as a “mother-in-law residence,” which had made Neil freeze like he’d just been shot. In no way did I want my mother to come live with us, but it was too funny not to let him panic over the idea.

“What do you think?” Neil asked. His fingers laced through and locked with mine as he pointedly avoided looking out the window.

“I think…” I sat back and leaned my head on his shoulder. “I think we’re going to be very happy here.”

Though it was surprisingly difficult to return to real life once we’d put in our offer on the house, there was really nothing left for us to do. After the first two days of jumping every time the phone rang, I had to get out.

Luckily, with the wedding locked down under Valerie’s obsessive attention to detail, Emma had turned her event-planning anxiety to a more pressing date: Neil’s fiftieth birthday party.

She met me for lunch at Hangawi, a midtown Korean vegetarian restaurant where you took off your shoes at the door and sat at booths with sunken floors beneath the low tables. I arrived ten minutes late, to a very familiar expression.

“You know, if we’re going to pull off a surprise party, you
will
need to be on time,” Emma said with an arched brow.

“I know, I know.” I took a seat on the cushion on the floor and slid my legs under the table. “But you know, if I’m supposed to actually get your father to the party on time, I won’t technically be late. Since the party can’t officially start without him.”

Her pursed lips told me off more effectively than she ever could have with words.

“So, what have you got?” I leaned my elbows on the table and folded my hands beneath my chin. “I’ve never planned anyone’s gigantic birthday party.”

“Good! Then I can do it all.” She rummaged in her Kate Spade bag for her iPad.

“You sound awfully excited about that prospect, for someone who’s getting married in five months.” I shrugged out of my coat, and the passing hostess stopped to take it.

Emma rolled her eyes as she tapped the screen. “Oh, am
I
getting married? Because you wouldn’t know it, to talk to her.”

“She just wants everything to be perfect.” It was no use defending Valerie. I knew well enough how contentious the relationship could be between a daughter and her single mother. When my wedding was approaching, my mom would probably be just as bad.

I hoped she would be just as bad. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but she might not want to have anything to do with my wedding. She was super mad about my relationship with Neil, and I hadn’t spoken to her since the phone call where I’d broken the news of our engagement.