The Boyfriend

by Abigail Barnette

  “I know you don’t.” Hearing my reasoning out loud made me feel foolish and ashamed. “But I have been jealous of Elizabeth. I just didn’t make a big deal out of it. I’ve never seriously worried that you’d leave me to get back together with her. I know how your marriage ended and how hurt you were. And I really don’t mean to dredge any of that up now—“

  “You aren’t,” he stated with conviction. “I came to terms with the end of my first marriage a long time ago. Long before I married you. But I had no idea this was still an issue.”

  “It’s not. Not normally.” Not since I turned thirty and worried you’d get tired of me.

  “But now things have changed,” El-Mudad said quietly. He leaned against the mantle of the small, white marble fireplace.

  “With the addition of you?” Neil asked, his brow creasing in a frown. “Sophie, this doesn’t have anything to do with moving in together, does it?”

  “No, not at all,” I swore, shaking my head.

  “But it does have to do with being thirty.” El-Mudad might as well have been strolling through my subconscious and perusing the files there. “And you’re chronically ill, now. Perhaps those things together are giving you doubts?”

  I wanted to glare at him, but it failed. I burst into tears instead.

  “Oh, my darling,” Neil opened his arms to me, and I leaned in, resting my head in the cradle between his shoulder and collarbone. “Do you still think that matters to me? After all my reassurances, you still believe that I love you less because you’ve aged a year?”

  “No. Intelligently, I know that you love me. But my emotions are all over the place.” I sniffled. “I hate feeling like I don’t have control over anything. Not over my body, not over my emotions, not over your past... And I don’t like that I’m ruining Christmas Eve having a fight with you over something that wouldn’t have fazed me two years ago.”

  El-Mudad came to sit on the other side of me. “It shouldn’t faze you now,” he began, then corrected himself. “I’m sorry. That was the wrong way to say it. You’re entitled to your feelings. But nothing about you has changed in two years apart from your illness and your age. You’re the same person, with the benefit of a bit of hard-earned wisdom through experience. Anything that’s changed about you only makes me love you more.”

  “My feelings exactly,” Neil agreed. “Sophie, I’ve told you before that you have no romantic rival. I love you with my whole heart, as I love El-Mudad and he loves you. And, at the risk of speaking on your behalf, as you love the two of us.”

  “It’s okay. You’re allowed to put those words—only those words—in my mouth,” I said, laughing softly through my tears. I gave both of them an apologetic grimace. “It’s not that I doubt the two of you. I doubt myself.”

  “No, you doubt us,” El-Mudad corrected me. “In doubting that we could continue to love you despite such minor issues.”

  “You’ve stood me through cancer and other disasters,” Neil pointed out. “You didn’t owe it to me to stay. But you did. And I’m not saying that now I’m beholden to you and I have to remain yoked to this marriage as a result. I’m with you because I want to be. I want you. Not Elizabeth, not Valerie, not anyone else you may be concerned about. And that’s because I’ve chosen you. All of you.”

  One of Neil’s more obnoxious talents was his way with words. In just a few sentences, he could change my entire outlook. Which was annoying when my brain wanted to keep being angry and needlessly petty.

  But he was right. It was a waste of my energy to resent him for his past, just because I felt insecure about myself.

  “If I may,” El-Mudad began cautiously. “I think that you would have had these feelings whether Neil was in Venice with us or not.”

  That was one-hundred percent, undeniably true. In our early days of dating, I’d been painfully aware of the ghost of Neil’s marriage. The penthouse had still been decorated to her tastes. Mail had still arrived addressed to her. Buying the house in Sagaponack with Neil had alleviated some of my weird hang-ups because we had a place to make a shared history together without the presence of former lovers. But every now and then, the knowledge that he hadn’t always been mine, that he’d once loved someone the way he loved me...

  No, I told myself firmly. He hadn’t loved Elizabeth the way he loved me. He’d loved me, a woman he’d met once and had no hope of ever seeing again, the entire time they’d been together. He’d purchased the home in Venice for her, but he’d once confessed to me that he would have left her in an instant if they’d still been together when I’d come back into his life.

  “You’re right,” I admitted, sniffing back the snot that threatened to run out. “I’m being beyond silly. You’ve never given me any reason to doubt that you love me. I’m building all that up in my head. And it’s especially silly that I’m doing it over a woman who has no bearing on our day-to-day lives.”

  I may have added that part on specifically to exclude Valerie. After our turbulent history, I doubted I’d ever stop feeling on-guard when she was around Neil.

  When I reached up to wipe away my tears, El-Mudad clucked his tongue and took my chin his hand. Pulling the silk handkerchief from his pocket, he carefully dabbed the wetness from beneath my eyes. “So your mascara doesn’t smear.”

  I melted at his consideration.

  He looked over my head to Neil. “I think you should go with your brothers.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You really should. And I’m sorry I got so upset over it.”

  “There’s no need to apologize.” Neil put his arm around my waist and hugged me to his side. “I’m just sorry that you thought you couldn’t share this with me before it came to such a painful head. Especially since we’ve worked so hard to avoid that in the past.”

  We’d spent several years in couple’s therapy together, working through my communication problem, among other things. It had always been difficult for me to express the full scope of my emotions to basically anyone. I had an unintentionally self-destructive habit of holding things in until they exploded.

  “I don’t think I was fully prepared for just how much all of this was going to affect me. And how much stupid diabetes is throwing me for a loop.” Why did the holidays always make me feel my mortality so much keener than the rest of the year? “Ugh, I’m sorry, you guys. And I’m extra super sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t want to be with just you, El-Mudad.”

  He kissed my forehead. “I never thought that. And I’ll be honest, Neil...I was a bit jealous tonight, myself.”

  Neil’s eyebrows shot up, and he blinked in surprise. “What of?”

  “Valerie,” El-Mudad and I said in unison.

  And then it was impossible to hold back our laughter, though we did try.

  Neil’s shoulders slumped. “I knew it. I knew it. But Olivia wanted to sit by both of us, and I couldn’t find the two of you. Let’s not make that into a big argument, as well.”

  El-Mudad took Neil’s hand. “I’m sorry, my love. Forget that I mentioned it.”

  “We won’t forget it. We’ll just talk about it when we don’t have Christmas festivities to attend to,” Neil said, disentangling himself to stand.

  Christmas! “Oh no! This is going to ruin my present to you!”

  They both looked at me blankly.

  “You know that yacht designer you guys were talking to earlier this year?” I waited for recognition to cross their faces.

  “Sophie...when you asked me for that bank account…” Neil began slowly.

  I grinned at them. “Merry Christmas.”

  “No.” El-Mudad shook his head. “No, you couldn’t have had a yacht built in a year. That’s impossible.”

  “You’re right. But it’s been in the works much longer. Still is, in fact.” And it had gone even faster considering the amount of money I’d spent on it. Wealth is relative; to someone with Neil’s capital, a thousand dollars was like eighty cents. But a purchase as big as a yacht? That was like an
average person buying a whole house.

  “You didn’t really buy a yacht,” Neil said, as though he couldn’t dare to hope.

  “I did. And it’s pretty awesome. But I guess you won’t get to see the brochure he made up for you,” I said with a heavy sigh. “It’s waiting for us in Venice.”

  “I’m...I’m blown away,” Neil stammered. “I can’t imagine how much that must have cost. And you paid for it without tearfully confessing it to me?”

  “No tearful confessions, but some extreme hyperventilation,” I admitted. I’d never handled so much money in my life. The damn boat cost more than our house.

  Neil shouldn’t have trusted me with my own checking account. It was nearly empty.

  “I won’t ask the price tag, because it is a gift and that would be rude,” El-Mudad said. “But you do have to give us some detail.”

  “Let’s see. One-hundred-fifteen meters, five decks—one private—, jet skis, a helipad, speedboat, two hot tubs, four guest bedrooms…” I ticked them off on my fingers as I tried to remember. “I’m leaving a bunch out.”

  “How many engines?” Neil asked.

  El-Mudad followed him with, “Top speed?”

  “Guys. Hello. I’m obviously not going to know that. Have you even met me?” I shook my head. “I do know that it can do six thousand miles in a single trip. The guy thought that was really important, he kept stressing it.”

  “Well, I am quite jealous now that he’ll see the photos before I do,” Neil admitted. “Thank you, Sophie. You really have stunned me.”

  “And me, as well. It’s a lovely gift.” El-Mudad stood and offered me his hand. “Shall we?”

  I rose and let him put his arm around my waist, just so long as we were away from everyone else. “What’s our story?”

  He frowned.

  “You know. For why we disappeared,” I clarified.

  Neil smirked. “Tell them El-Mudad wanted to see the mummified heart in the smoking room.”

  Chapter Seven

  The rest of the holiday passed by in a blur. While my family invaded the local Catholic church on Christmas morning, Neil, Olivia, El-Mudad, Rashida, Amal and I met in the drawing room that adjoined El-Mudad’s bedroom. Though Amal was still cool toward Neil and I, she was no match for Olivia’s charm. The presents I’d bought El-Mudad’s girls had gone over well enough, but I imagined they had so much stuff, nothing would impress them. They were gracious, though.

  I thought about my sister, across the ocean, still recovering from her transplant. I know she’d received the gifts I’d sent her—both Molly and Susan had emailed me about them, with varying levels of enthusiasm—but it astounded me how different her life was to that of Amal and Rashida’s lives. How could such gaps exist in the world? Why did we have more than we needed, while my family struggled and, infuriatingly, wouldn’t always ask for help?

  At least I was still able to pay Molly’s medical bills. I had to frame our wealth that way to keep from totally losing it and hating myself; I had the means to help the people I loved. It would be churlish to complain about that.

  But, I couldn’t detain them at our house forever. Though I hated to see everyone go, people needed to get back to work and their lives. One batch headed back the day after Christmas, while some stayed on an extra night. By the twenty-eighth, it was just El-Mudad, Neil, Olivia, Valerie, Laurence and me. And it was time for all of us to head in our respective directions.

  “I don’t want to bye-bye,” Olivia sniffled. “I want to come home.”

  “Oh, my sweet girl.” Neil hugged her tight while the staff loaded the rest of the bags into the back of Valerie and Laurence’s chauffeured sedan. “Afi and Sophie aren’t going home without you.”

  “No, Afi and Sophie are going on child-free trips. With their friend.” Laurence said, under his breath. But not under his breath enough for me.

  Or Neil, who glanced sharply at him before turning his attention back to Olivia. “You have another Christmas to celebrate with Grandma Valerie’s family. You’ll be with Afi again London in just six sleeps. Then we’ll go home together.”

  “But six is a lot many!” Olivia protested.

  Valerie stepped in and put her hand on Olivia’s back. “Yes, my darling, but think of all the fun we’ll have together. We can go to the Ferris wheel again. You liked that.”

  I knew exactly the Ferris wheel Valerie was talking about. “That sounds so fun, Olivia! You know you have to do that with Grandma Valerie because it’s so special and just between the two of you.”

  It was just between the two of them because neither Neil nor I would get on the London Eye.

  The promise of yet another ride placated Olivia a bit, and she somewhat loosened her grip on Neil’s shirt to lean back and look him in the face. “What about four sleeps?”

  I chewed my lip. Despite our constant arguments about it, he had a bad habit of letting Olivia negotiate. That didn’t fly with the way I’d been raised. But I held my tongue; we could discuss it later.

  Neil sighed. “Five sleeps. Final offer.”

  Olivia’s eyes filled with tears.

  “If Afi takes you home before then, you’ll miss the big fireworks in London,” I reminded her. There was no way in hell I was going to take Olivia into Manhattan on New Year’s Eve, but Valerie’s apartment had a great view of London’s celebration without having to leave home.

  Olivia considered a moment, giving the prospect of fireworks all the gravity they required. Finally, she wriggled in Neil’s arms. “Put me down. I’ll go in the car now.”

  I hugged her briefly; too briefly, for my tastes but if I delayed her she might change her mind.

  “Be a good girl.” I straightened her coat. “I know you always are.”

  “I’m a very good girl. All the time, I’m so good,” she confirmed. Then she took Valerie’s hand. “Come on, Grandma.”

  As Valerie exited the foyer and helped Olivia up into the Range Rover’s tall seat, Neil said, “One moment, please,” to stop Laurence from following them. The two men met each other’s eyes with a coldness I’d never seen before. That was probably because Neil exuded deadly tension in the moment.

  “I heard what you muttered just now,” he began, with the same voice he would use with an employee who’d seriously fucked up. I knew that tone; I’d been on the receiving end of it once. He went on, “But more importantly, Olivia could not have failed to have heard it. If I ever learn of you attempting to undermine our relationship with her, if I ever find you’ve planted a single seed of doubt in her head with regards to how much we care for her, you will rue that day. Do I make myself clear?”

  Laurence smiled coolly, his eyes narrowing. “I know men like you, Neil. And I know you believe you own the world. But you can’t buy back Olivia’s childhood. And no amount of money will undo whatever damage your lifestyle will subject her to.”

  Lifestyle. The word struck fear into me.

  “I would like you to leave my house,” Neil ground out, and I held my breath. He wasn’t a violent man; in the entire time I’d known him, no matter how angry he’d been, no matter how emotional, he’d always only harmed himself.

  And a wine bottle. And a glass. But those had been extreme moments.

  Laurence said nothing, but gave me a quick, disapproving look.

  Neil and I stood frozen, watching as the car pulled out from beneath the porte-cochere to head to the main driveway. I noticed my hands were cold only after Rob the butler asked, “Shall I close the door?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course,” Neil said, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

  Rob had seen the whole damn confrontation. I still wasn’t used to having paid staff watch our every move. If I were them, I would be judging us so hard.

  Neil and I left the foyer and headed back toward our room to make one last luggage check.

  “You don’t think he knows?” I asked quietly as we made our way to the ghastly, wide spiral staircase in the west turret.

&nb
sp; “It’s impossible to say,” Neil admitted. I knew that pained him. He didn’t like to be uncertain of anything. “It certainly sounds that way.”

  “He could have meant our lifestyle of running around responsibility free.” I sincerely hoped that was the case. “I mean, he’s still working—“

  “That’s not our fault,” Neil snapped.

  “No, it’s not,” I agreed. “But you don’t have to bite my head off. I wasn’t the one being a sanctimonious dick back there.”

  We walked in silence for a long moment. I had to ask, though I hated to even raise the possibility. “If Valerie knew about us...what do you think she would do?”

  “I really couldn’t say,” Neil put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet.

  “She knows all about your past, though, right? I mean, she knew you were bisexual—”

  “And she outed me to my ex-wife,” he reminded me.

  “Yes, she did. And it was wrong. But she thought she was helping.” Then again, she might think she was “helping” Olivia by intervening if she found out about El-Mudad. Laurence, it seemed, would absolutely want to “help.” My stomach suddenly relocated itself to six inches higher than normal to make room for more dread. “Neil...they wouldn’t try to get custody or something, would they?”

  He didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was with a measured caution that told me all I needed to know. He’d been thinking about this very thing. He’d been just as worried about it as I was, and maybe for a lot longer. “I don’t know. Perhaps she would. I’m not sure what grounds she might have to do so. As far as I’m aware, simply having a roommate isn’t grounds for a declaration of abuse or neglect.”

  “What if she does pursue something like that?” I pressed. “Do you have a plan for that?”

  “Of course I have a plan.” His expression went hard, and his jaw worked in a telltale sign of grinding teeth. “I have had since the moment we were granted custody. Plans for her and for the Van Der Grafs, as well.”