Well, that was nice while it lasted.
India thankfully pulled me away just as Neil tried to make a response to smooth over the remark. I don’t know whether it was her relief at how well the evening was going, or the wine in her hand, that made India seem so unusually relaxed. Her lack of tension was actually kind of unnerving. “Sophie, come along. You need to sign these.”
“Excuse me,” I said, glad to have an exit. It would be far easier to talk to total strangers than to keep my cool in a high-pressure situation with Valerie poking me like a bear in a cage.
By the time the party was over, I felt like I’d talked to every single person in Manhattan. Some of them had asked questions I’d been unprepared for: Did I have an allowance? Was my name on the bank account? If we were engaged, why hadn’t it been announced publicly? And the most offensive of all, did we actually have sex?
I’d merely gaped at the last questioner, and he’d winked conspiratorially and said, “We do what we must for the almighty dollar.”
The idea that anyone thought they could speak to me that way had shocked me into righteous indignation. I couldn’t imagine who in their right mind wouldn’t want to sleep with Neil, and even if they didn’t, it was none of their business to project it onto me. There was nothing I found more tiresome than the insinuation that I was faking our relationship for money.
Luckily, India had been standing at my side and heard the exchange. As the smug asshole questioner had walked away, fully satisfied at his dig, she’d leaned down and said in a low voice, “Honey, vinegar, something about flies. Whatever you Midwesterners like to say.”
The genuinely nice people far outshone the handful of rude ones. They congratulated me and asked me how Neil was doing now, and told me that I was brave for sticking by him through his experience. Even though I didn’t think I’d been brave at all, I was touched to see how much people seemed to care, when I was a total stranger to them. Some of the M & R employees, who’d read the book in its various stages of production, commented on how well it had turned out, which was nice to hear. I couldn’t be objective from my perspective.
While it wasn’t as horrible as I thought it was going to be, I was glad when the evening started winding down.
“We’d better leave before everyone else does, and you turn into a pumpkin,” India suggested. “A sad little pumpkin who’s the last guest left at her own party.”
“You have such a way with words, India,” Neil said tersely. When he’d been temporarily in charge of Porteras, he and India had bashed heads more than once.
“Let’s go out the back,” she suggested, ignoring his remark. “It went very well tonight, Sophie.”
“I felt like it went well.” I stood up a little taller. “Dare I say, I felt poised.”
“You were very charming,” Neil agreed, looping his arm around my waist. “But how on Earth did you think you were going to be on television, when you can’t talk to a room full of people?”
“You’re right. The TV gig falling through is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.” I’d had massive stage fright in a room of a hundred people. I probably would have peed my pants at the thought of talking to five million.
As we slipped out the backdoor, India said conspiratorially, “I thought it might interest you to know that I’ve handed in my notice at Porteras.”
I looked to Neil, and he raised his eyebrows. “This is the first I’m hearing of it. I don’t run Porteras anymore, that’s all under Valerie’s oversight.”
“Which is why I’m telling Sophie now.” India was still sore over the Elwood & Stern take-over of the magazine where she’d made a name for herself. “I’m leaving to agent full time.”
“Whoa, whoa.” I held up my hands. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with—”
“You’re not my only client. Don’t be absurd. You made a healthy advance, but not enough for me to live on.” She looked both ways up and down the alley, as though the police would be waiting to snatch her up, then reached into her purse and pulled out a gold cigarette case. “I’ve got two other clients, and an offer from a former colleague to join her agency.”
“Congratulations,” Neil said smoothly, while my jaw hung open.
India Vaughn, leaving Porteras? She was a legend in the office. She’d been there for years.
Then again, Gabriella Winters had been a legend, too.
“Sophie, you look like you’ve swallowed a bug,” India said with a roll of her eyes. “What’s the problem?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” I laughed and waved my hand. “I was just thinking of how weird it is, with you leaving the magazine.”
“It’ll take some getting used to, but I’ll manage,” she said, with the kind of gruff cheerfulness I’d finally come to understand. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, enjoy your night, debut author.”
In the car, I snuggled down in the plush seat, torn between never wanting to move and considering actually leaning down to unbuckle my shoes. But I knew if I took them off now, I’d never get them back on my swollen feet to go up to the apartment.
“When does ‘debut’ author wear off?” Neil asked with a chuckle as the car pulled away from the curb.
“Why? Am I being a debut authorzilla?” Too quickly, my brain made a leap in association, from “authorzilla” to “bridezilla,” to the promise Holli had made me vow before our falling out. I’d been charged with not letting her become a “bridezilla.” Now we weren’t even speaking to each other.
“I did like the revisions to the kettle scene.” Neil leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Thank you for making me sound so gallant about your wanton destruction of my kitchen appliances. And the wiring.”
Tears rose in my eyes, and I blinked them back, grateful that he wasn’t looking at me. Unfortunately, he heard them in my voice when I said, “Hey, no problem.”
He opened his eyes and looked down at me. “Oh, Sophie. What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “Just emotional, you know. Highs and lows. Revisiting stuff from the past that reminds me of how hard it was.” I shrugged to pass off my non-answer. “And you know… Holli didn’t show.”
“I was hoping that in all of the confusion and excitement, you wouldn’t notice until you’d had a good night’s sleep.” He reached out and brushed his thumb over the tear track on my cheek. “She’s not over your fight. But that doesn’t mean she’ll never be over it. Good friends can have incredibly painful separations and still heal.”
“Says the man who’s still besties with his ex.”
He chuckled. “This may come as a shock to you, but Valerie and I haven’t always been civil to each other. We worked very hard at being friends, for Emma’s sake, but after we separated, it was understandably difficult. It took time to become genuinely close, to really consider each other friends again. If Holli did come into your life again, do you think you would be fully recovered from the hurtful things she said?”
“No, I don’t suppose I would.” I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Why didn’t things work out with Valerie?”
“Ah, the patented Sophie Scaife deflection technique,” he said with a wistful smile. “Fine. Because you’re tired, and because I’m impressed that you haven’t asked before now, I’ll allow it.”
He stretched his long legs out and got comfortable before continuing. “I cheated on her.”
Of all the things I was expecting to hear—that they had simply grown apart, that they weren’t compatible, that they were just too young—that one possibility hadn’t entered my mind. I had never in my life considered Neil capable of something so reprehensible.
“What… Why?”
“There isn’t a good reason.” The fact that he sounded actually remorseful helped keep visions of future heartache from prancing through my head. “Our relationship was never perfect. I’d slept with her brother, after all. When we started dating, I never intended it to be anything permanent. When we decided to keep Emma
, I thought she would be enough to make me stay. I thought I would grow to love Valerie, to really love her, and I did. But not in a way that either of us wanted.
“There was a woman at my father’s office who was very attractive, and when I was in Reykjavik on business, I…slept with her. I pursued, I initiated, and it was the most selfish and immature thing I’ve ever done.” He watched me, wary. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I’m still terribly ashamed of my conduct, and I can’t bear to have you think badly of me. Which is possibly the third most selfish and immature thing about me.”
“What was the second?” As if cheating weren’t bad enough. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Telling Valerie.” He looked out the window, a muscle ticking near his jaw. “Or not telling her soon enough. I felt so guilty about stepping out, but I didn’t tell Valerie until a few weeks before she had Emma. By that time, three whole months had gone, and my guilt had eaten away at me. So, I told her, and I shouldn’t have.”
“Ever?” That didn’t seem right, just not telling someone that you cheated on them. “What were you going to do instead? Stay with her and keep it from her?”
“I should have let her go, and never told her. The end result would have been the same; we would have separated. But it would have spared her some pain.” He turned back to me, his brow furrowed, his green eyes intense. “I should have been honest with her from the moment I knew that our relationship wouldn’t work out.”
This was pretty heavy, after the night I’d had. “I think I would have been happier if we’d kept talking about Holli.”
“At any rate, I’m glad you know now. I wanted to tell you before we set a date for the wedding. To give you time to…consider.”
I almost got whiplash, I was so physically taken aback. “Are you kidding me?”
“Well, I’ve heard it said that once a man cheats, he’s predisposed to cheat a second time. I don’t ever want to hurt you like that, and I cannot imagine a circumstance under which I would. But you deserved to know.”
“Because your guilt was eating you up?” I paused. “You think I should have kept my involvement with Deja’s firing a secret.”
He considered his words carefully. “I think you had to. The difference between you and I is that when I told Valerie about my transgression, I didn’t beg her for a second chance. I told her, and I ended it. You didn’t tell Holli the truth because you wanted to destroy your friendship. You wanted to tell her in an effort to save it. And I think that is one of the many ways in which you are a much better person than I am.”
I studied his face, the face I was more in love with now than I had ever dreamed possible just a year ago. All of the good about him, and all the bad, I loved him, because he loved all of me, as well. That was what love was.
Since I loved Holli, and I knew she loved me, I couldn’t believe we’d never be able to reconcile our own bad and good parts.
I refused to believe our friendship was over.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What time was the reservation?”
“Eight,” I called to Neil from the bathroom. I grinned at myself in the mirror as I rolled a tube of dark berry lipstick over my bottom lip. Somehow, miraculously, Emma and I had managed to keep her father’s surprise party a total secret. Tonight, he was expecting a quiet dinner with me and Rudy, followed by a proper fiftieth birthday celebration after we moved into the new house in two weeks.
“A combination retirement and birthday party,” he’d described it. “I didn’t think I would make it to fifty, so I want to do it right.”
He had absolutely no idea how “right” tonight was going to be.
I checked myself in the mirror and straightened the skirt of my very snug silver sequined sheath dress. I checked the double-sided tape hiding my bra-straps beneath the thin shoulders of the dress, which were barely wider, and pushed up my cleavage. If we were just going out to dinner, I might have worn something a bit more conservative, but tonight was a party, and I was damn well going to dress like it.
“I don’t see why Emma couldn’t come—Christ, you look bloody fantastic,” Neil said as he stepped into the bathroom. He checked his hair in the mirror, sparing another sidelong glance at me. “If this is my birthday present, I’d like to unwrap it now.”
“And I’d like to eat. I’m starving.” I leaned over the counter and pretended to fix a lipstick smudge that wasn’t there. I really just wanted him to get a good look at my tits in the mirror.
“As much as I’d love a private evening with you, I don’t see what Emma was doing that was so much more important than her father’s fiftieth birthday,” he grumped for the billionth time that day.
“At least Rudy got the night off.” I ran my tongue over my teeth, in case I’d gotten any lipstick on them. “Shame about Valerie, though.”
“Oh, yes, I can see you’re quite torn up about her absence.” The corner of his mouth twitched. It was so cute, the way he thought he knew what was going on. Valerie would be there, as would two hundred of his closest friends and family members.
He was going to be so surprised.
As we’d planned, Emma called just as we were leaving. But unlike what we’d planned, she called me. I fumbled for my phone in my handbag, and frowned at the screen. “It’s Emma.”
When I answered, she huffed, “Tell my father that he turned off his phone again.”
I covered the mic. “Your phone is turned off.”
“Oh, right.” He reached into the pocket of his gray-tinged taupe trousers. He’d paired them with a simple eggshell white shirt with French cuff, and he carried the jacket over his shoulder. He laid it carefully over his arm as he diverted his attention to his phone.
“Do you want to talk to him?” I asked cheerfully, delighting that Emma and I were partners in our little ruse.
Oh my gosh. I was totally making a memory with Emma. With my stepdaughter. That was a little weird, but a little awesome at the same time.
“Yes, put him on.”
I gave my phone to Neil, so that he was out of hands entirely, trying to juggle his jacket and both phones. I pretended not to notice his dilemma, adjusting the belt of my short white trench coat and staring up at the opening elevator doors.
“Emma, we’re just stepping out—”
He paused, and I heard the highs and lows of Emma’s voice as a tinny rhythm from his phone’s speaker. “That’s kind of loud,” I mouthed at him, indicating my ear. Chemo may have damaged his hearing, but it wasn’t smart to ruin what was left.
He shot me a look of disapproval. “I’m sorry, Emma, what was that?” Then, after a pause, “Why doesn’t he have any money?” Another pause. “We’re supposed to meet Rudy for… Oh, bloody hell. Yes. We’ll be there. But I’m very pleased to know that you preferred to go out clubbing with Michael, rather than spend your father’s fiftieth birthday with him.”
Emma’s gently wheedling tone—the one I’d heard her use with her father on several notable occasions relating to her wedding expenses—simpered through the phone. Neil was powerless to resist.
“Fine, fine. We’ll be there in…” He checked his watch. “Probably forty minutes. Damn. No, I know, it’s not your fault. We’re on the way.”
“Is everything alright?” I feigned concern as he hung up the call.
“Only Horrible Michael stealing my daughter away to an over-priced club on the night of my birthday, and then not being able to pay for it when he does.” Neil waved Tony off and opened the door for me. He motioned to me to slide over, rather than walking around the back of the car. Then he hit the intercom, informed Tony of our change of plans, and Neil settled back in his seat like a man trying to get comfortable in an iron maiden. “Honestly, drinks and dancing on a Monday night. What kind of husband is he going to make?”
“I seem to remember someone in this car fucking his secretary until she couldn’t walk on a Tuesday night, then sending her home with no panties and expecting her
to show up for work on Wednesday morning.” I tapped my lips with one straightened index finger. “I wonder what kind of husband he’ll make.”
Neil gave me a look that warned I might not find out. It was all I could do to keep from giggling madly.
“I have to call Rudy,” he said handing my phone back.
When he reached for his, I shook my head. “No, I’ll just text him. I’ve already got the message half-typed.”
Neil’s knee bounced in agitation for the entire ride. By the time we pulled up outside of 1 OAK, he was so tense that his shoulders probably felt like phone books.
He pushed the intercom. “Tony, would you mind terribly taking this credit card inside to my daughter and her idiot fiancé?”
Shit. That was going to make my job harder. It was up to me to get him into the building.
I chewed my lip, trying to pick the perfect reason we should go in. I wouldn’t have a second shot without sounding suspicious. “Hey, I’ve never been here, and you’re the only chance I’ve got of getting in. What do you say we have one drink? Just long enough for me to say I’ve been there.”
He let out an annoyed, resigned sigh. “One drink. Lest the night mimic those insane movies were people hop all over the city from party to party, getting into zany mishaps.”
“That’s the spirit, grumpy man!” I laughed as Tony knocked on the window.
Neil rolled it down just a hair. “I’m sorry, Tony, we’ve changed our plans. Sophie wants to go in. Can you circle the block a few times? We won’t be long.”
“Certainly, sir,” he replied, and when I looked over my shoulder at him, he winked.
Hey, you can’t keep secrets from the domestic staff. They find out everything eventually.
“There’s no line,” Neil said, looking uncertainly up and down the street. “That’s very odd, isn’t it?”
The doorman didn’t ask for our names and ushered us in without a glance to his clipboard. Neil looked down at me as we walked down the hallway. “Sophie…what’s going on?”
The muffled throb of loud music penetrated the gold-script scrawled black walls, and with every step, it was harder to contain my grin. In the warm yellow light, it was difficult to gauge his facial expression. At the end of the hall, we stepped through the curtained entryway and into the club proper. At the sight of two-hundred people all turned out for him, Neil froze, and in that moment, all of the guests who’d been standing there, patiently waiting for us to arrive, shouted a gleeful, unison, “Surprise!”
The Bride (The Boss) Page 24