The Bride (The Boss 3)

“Okay. Let’s just take the good out of all that bad and focus on that. You did tell him. That’s a big improvement from where you were when you first came in.” Ashley had a way of framing things to seem way more positive than they were. I wondered if that was a normal therapy technique, or just something she used with her most deeply fucked up patients.

“Thanks,” I said, not feeling particularly worthy of the praise.

“I’m assuming you learned something from the experience?”

I had. I’d been dreading admitting it. “Obviously, I learned that it’s far easier to tell the truth immediately, rather than hide it. But I also learned…ugh.”

Ashley didn’t say anything, but waited with an interested expression.

“Maybe I’m not as comfortable with our age difference as I thought I was. And I’m not saying I’m uncomfortable with Neil’s age. I’m just uncomfortable with everyone’s reactions. We’re adults, and we love each other, but I feel like we have to keep having the same conversation every time we meet someone new.” I sighed. “I feel like I have to constantly prove that I love him.”

“Because of his age, or because of his money?” she asked gently.

“Both,” I admitted.

“You just got engaged. I assume that means you love him,” Ashley said with a tilt of her head. “Why?”

“Why? Why do I love him?” Was she supposed to ask me something like that? Was I supposed to answer it?

It didn’t seem to matter, because when I opened my mouth, all I could manage was, “Well…um…I…” before my stomach dropped

into my toes and I felt lightheaded with panic. Of course I loved Neil. We’d just been to hell and back together. I was never happier in my life than when I was with him. But why did I love him? Why couldn’t I think of an answer?

“You can’t tell me why you love him,” Ashley began, a slow smile forming on her mouth, “because you’re in love with him. Love isn’t rational, and you are. That’s why you’re having such a difficult time. If you were sitting here and saying that his age was a problem for you because you wished he was younger, I might advise you to reconsider your engagement. But it’s only a problem because other people are making it an issue. Should other people’s opinion of your happiness be detracting from your happiness?”

I was about to argue that my relationship with my mother was very important, and that it did affect my happiness, but it sounded so stupid in my head already that I probably didn’t need to say it out loud. “You’re right. It shouldn’t.”

Seriously, I should have been doing therapy years ago.

After my thirty was up, it was Neil’s turn. I sat in the waiting room, sucking up the free wifi to look at wedding dresses on my phone, and tried to think about what I would say to him when we met at the end. The time passed quickly, as it usually did when my mind was roiling through everything I’d just talked about. When Ashley invited me into the office, I sprang up and hurried in.

Neil looked up almost guiltily when I came back. I’d only just sat down when he reached for my hand and covered it with his own against the sofa cushion. “I am so sorry.”

“Way to jump the gun, Neil,” Ashley said wryly.

“Wait, what are you apologizing for?” I looked uncertainly from Neil to Ashley. “Was I supposed to be thinking of something to apologize for?”

“No, it’s me. It is entirely me.” He squeezed my hand. “I have been letting my feelings about my previous marriage interfere with my feelings toward you. That isn’t fair.”

“Oh.” I frowned. This was one of the parts of couple’s therapy that I didn’t like. Hearing stuff you sort of expected, but had convinced yourself you were being paranoid over, confirmed in front of another person.

“Don’t act surprised. You’ve noticed. That’s what all the talk about setting a date was, wasn’t it?”

I wished he hadn’t noticed. “Look, I don’t want you to do the weird thing you do where you ignore your emotional needs in order to protect what you perceive to be my feelings. Remember when you did that and you had no idea what my feelings were, and we broke up?”

“Neil isn’t going to do that this time,” Ashley said with her characteristic no-bullshit tone. “The two of you are coming into this marriage with your own past baggage and some reasonable fears. You’ve just been through an incredibly turbulent year, and you’re both emotionally raw. But the very last thing you can do in this situation is assume that your feelings and your partner’s feelings are the same, or that you know what’s going on inside their head without asking.”

“It’s kind of good that you mentioned that, because I am dying to know what Neil thinks of something.” I’d been working up the nerve to broach the subject with him, and it was a relief to know how to start the conversation. “How do you feel about Emma living with us?”

Neil sat up straighter, adjusting his shoulders against the back of the couch. “I, um. Well, it feels normal to me, I suppose. Though Valerie and I tried to keep our custody arrangement as equal as possible, I always somehow ended up with Emma more than I was without her. And she doesn’t have anywhere else to live right now.”

“Where does her fiancé live?” Ashley asked, her fingers poised above her iPad to type a note.

“He has roommates, so it’s not an ideal situation for a couple starting out.” Neil said this as though it was an apology to me, but he couldn’t have worded it more perfectly.

“Yeah,” I said with an arched brow. “I know.”

He hung his head in good-natured shame. “Ah.”