The Bride (The Boss 3)

Neil, Valerie, and Emma were in the dining room, the massive, fourteen-person table covered with more paperwork than it takes to buy a damned house.

“What’s all this?” I asked with a forced smile to announce my presence.

Neil looked up from the glossy pamphlet he’d been frowning at. He wore the thick-rimmed reading glasses that looked so impossibly good on him, and the sleeves of his gray button down were rolled back to his elbows. He smiled, looking utterly relieved to have an excuse for escape. “How did it go? Did she hear anything about the audition?”

I didn’t want to discuss it there, in front of Valerie. And not in front of Emma. She was trying to plan her wedding, not hear all of my problems.

Luckily, she jumped in and rescued me with a perfect mocking imitation of her father. “Darling, glad you’re home. In answer to the question I so rudely ignored, we’re having a small crisis with the menu. And I’ve invited my intelligent and beautiful daughter Emma and her mother Valerie to stay for dinner.”

Valerie laughed, and I managed to maintain my smile, which was suddenly trembling under the onslaught of forced interaction with people. I was disappointed, angry with myself for being disappointed, and it was just too much to be “on” and friendly tonight.

“Can we speak in the kitchen?” I asked, trying hard to sound peppy and upbeat, hoping no one would ask me what was wrong while simultaneously knowing it was unavoidable.

Neil’s frown returned, and he pushed back from the table. “Certainly. Excuse us, Valerie, Emma?”

“Of course.” Valerie waved her hand and turned her attention back to the catering brochures.

In the kitchen, Sue the housekeeper was seated at the island, vigorously polishing the stainless steel cutlery. She looked up as I entered and smiled warmly. “Hello, Sophie.”

“Hi, Sue.” I winced. “I hate to ask, because you’re so busy—”

“I will find something else to be busy on,” she said easily, and slid off her stool. As soon as she’d departed through the service entrance, I turned to Neil.

I took a deep breath and noticed the split second of hope and anticipation in his eyes. That made it even harder to get the words out without crying. “I didn’t get it.”

He wrapped his arms around me. “Oh, darling, I am so sorry.”

Only a few tears leaked out. I’d felt devastated a moment before, but leaning on Neil, with his hand on the back of my neck, his chin resting on my head… That made up for a lot.

I savored the feeling for a moment, then I stepped back with a sigh of weary resignation. “It’s okay. I’m more bothered by my reaction than anything else.”

“Why is that?” Neil went to the cooler under the counter on the island and pulled out a bottled water. I shook my head, he came back up with a bottle of chilled 1998 Veuve Cliquot, and I nodded gratefully. He set about opening it while I tried to explain.

“I feel like an asshole for being disappointed about not getting a job on TV.” I shrugged. “Everyone wants to be famous. I kind of thought I was above that.”

“And it hurts to know you’re not.” I could always count on Neil to understand me.

“I’m just exhausted right now. Why does bad news make me so sleepy?” I mused.

Neil smirked. “It’s another of your avoidance techniques. Would you like me to cancel dinner with Valerie and Emma? I’m sure they would understand—”

I shook my head. “No. I’m not going to chase Emma out of here.”

“Good, because I was thinking that I would tell her tonight.” He muffled the pop of the cork with a kitchen towel. “About us.”

Neil had been waiting for an appropriate time to tell Emma two big pieces of news: that we were getting married and that we were looking for a house together. Tonight was as good a night as any… And horrible person that I am, I wanted to be present when Valerie heard the news, so I could see her first reaction.

I hated that whenever I was around Valerie, I felt this intensely stereotypical jealousy. Especially after she had apologized months ago, and she’d done absolutely nothing deserving of my scorn since then. While I would have preferred to be totally cool and unthreatened by the fact that she had reproduced with my fiancé and had maintained a creepily close friendship with him since, some petty, mean part of me wouldn’t let it go.

I brightened and nodded. Then, remembering my ring was on my finger—and Emma was super observant—I twisted it around to hide the diamond in my palm. “Oops, can’t have that.”

“Thank you, for letting me take my time in telling her.” Neil took down four flutes and a tray.

“Oh, that wasn’t just for me?” I asked, leaning against the counter across the island from him.

He looked up, a sympathetic smile bending his lips. “It’s for you. I know you, Sophie. You need to decompress. If we go out there and announce our engagement right away, you can drink to something happy, instead of your rejection.”

“You’re basically the best boyfriend ever, you know that?”