The Bride (The Boss 3)

“Darling, I had a baby with a woman I had absolutely no future with when I’d just gotten out of college. It should have been the biggest mistake of my life, and it wasn’t. But believe me, it was sheer panic at the time.”

Oh f—“What’s Valerie going to think?”

Neil’s features slid into a frown of confusion. “About what?”

“About the magazine. About me going in to business with Deja? Who got fired from your company for just talking to Gabriella?” I rolled my eyes. “And she still thinks I was trying to destroy Porteras from the inside out. Not to mention the fact that my publication is sort of similar to Porteras and—”

“Oh, fuck Valerie,” Neil said with an annoyed shake of his head. “I’m sorry. Sophie, you must have realized by now that Valerie’s problem with you has nothing to do with what happened at Porteras. It’s an easy way to justify her dislike for you because you’re with me.”

I wasn’t sure my jaw would actually close after that. He’d admitted that his relationship with her put a strain on our relationship, and he’d done the work to make it up to me by listening to my concerns and setting boundaries. But he’d never said a word against her. Which I admired, but it was somewhat gratifying to hear that the sun no longer shone out of her totally innocent ass.

“I’m not stupid,” he continued, his tone softening. “I haven’t been…fair to you. I’ve pretended that the only interest Valerie had in me was platonic. But I realized a long time ago that Valerie will always be either waiting for me, or wanting me to wait for her. I don’t even believe that she’s in love with me, I think she just can’t bear the thought that I might be happier than she is. But I respect her, and she’s my business partner and the mother of my child. That doesn’t mean she has any say in what you do with your life. You’re marrying me, not my past.”

“Fair enough.” What else could I say to something like that? “So, the magazine is on.”

“It appears so.” He paused. “Just don’t sell that bag. Please. I’ll buy it from you. It’s too lovely.”

“Okay, maybe I’ll keep it.” I picked it up and tapped my fingers on the leather.

He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. “And if by chance you’d ever want to sell your company—”

“It’s not for sale,” I said with a contented sigh. I stepped back. “I need to go do something. Finish your chapter.”

I went to my office in the loft over the den. I woke up my MacBook Air and got to work. First, I emailed India. I apologized for having altered her career path, but writing another book wasn’t in the cards for me at the moment. I’m Just The Girlfriend was one of the most scary, painful things I’d ever done. I wasn’t one of those people born with ink their veins, and it seemed stupid to force myself to continue. I let her know all of that as gently as possible, and added:

PS. If you’re ever looking to return to the fashion world, I’m starting my own magazine. You’ll always have a place there, you just have to let me know when you want it.

After I hit send on that bit of awkward business, I composed a message to Valerie. This one was a little trickier. I typed, proof-read, edited, re-edited, wondered if I could reasonably get away with a few mild jabs, then decided that honesty was going to be the best policy, not just when it came to Neil, but when it came to other people, too.

Valerie:

I know you don’t like me. I don’t like you, either. But I appreciate the way you tolerate me for Neil’s sake. It shows how good of a friend you are, even if you and he don’t always see eye to eye.

Though I don’t forgive your repeated attempts to harm the relationship between Neil and me, I should have never said the things I said to you at Emma’s rehearsal dinner. It wasn’t the mature way to handle the situation, and my assertion that I would somehow be justified in demanding Neil cut you from his life was petty and hypocritical. And for that I’m sorry.

It seems unlikely that you and I will ever truly let go of our animosity toward each other, but I love Neil, and I love Emma. I’m committed to protecting them. Can we agree, for their sakes, to stop with the manipulation and pretending? I’m willing to meet you halfway, if you can afford me the same courtesy.

When I was finished there, I opened a new compose window and took a deep breath to brace myself. Then, I started typing.

Holli:

I miss you so much. I want to fix all of this, but I don’t know how.

My fingers hovered over the keys. There was nothing more I needed to say, and nothing more Holli would need to hear. If Deja had told her about our meeting—and if she was going to forgive me—I had this one chance. I wasn’t going to blow it by rambling on like an idiot. I sent the brief message, and it was out of my hands.

When I was done, I sat back and stared at the screen, not willing an immediate response. I wanted her to think about this, so any reconciliation that was going to happen wouldn’t someday be crushed under the weight of resentment.

“Sophie?” Neil called from downstairs, his voice echoing from the next room.

“Yeah, I’m up here. I just got…distracted,” I called back.

He reversed his path, and in a few seconds, he was headed across the little bridge into the loft.

“I was just going to plan dinner, and I thought you could help, if you weren’t busy. If you’re in the middle of something—”

“No, no.” I shook my head. “I just spaced out a little.”

I got up and we walked to the kitchen, Neil keeping two paces behind me. “I don’t wish to be invasive, but what were you doing? You seem so relaxed. Are you high?”