The Bride (The Boss 3)

He lowered his voice to say, “And you look nice in nothing.”

I slapped his shoulder playfully. “Just nice?”

“Magnificent, then?”

“Mmm…okay, magnificent will do.” I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

So, we weren’t about to run right out to the justice of the peace. And I was still ironing the wrinkles out of my future. But I had my best friend back. And I had Neil. For the first time in a long time, there were only good things on the horizon for me.

I couldn’t wait to see what they were.

Summer turned into autumn so gradually, I had barely noticed. I’d been so ensconced in working on the magazine, it felt like I had a permanent radiation burn from my computer screen; maybe I’d just mistaken that for summertime sunburn.

Despite our best intentions to keep up our house without a full time staff, thirty-five-thousand square feet was pretty impossible, especially with me working constantly. There was no way Neil would ever be a domestic pro, so we hired a very nice, very patient, very short housekeeper named Julia. With her plump body and gray hair, she reminded me of Mrs. Potts from Beauty and The Beast, which I still hadn’t convinced Neil to watch.

Since I spent the occasional few nights in Manhattan to work with Deja and our small but stalwart team, Neil indulged his passion for all things auto by making new friends at a private high performance track in Connecticut. It was a bit of a drive from our place, but he didn’t mind. I knocked on wood that he wouldn’t earn too many speeding tickets.

After a lot of hard work and overcoming our differences, Neil and I finally came to the day when Dr. Ashley didn’t need to guide us. I was sad to see her go; I really liked her as a person. But you can’t be friends with your therapist. Though it was entirely scary, we discharged ourselves from the practice, trusting that we could go it alone. If any problems arose in the future, we could always go back.

Holli tried her hand at acting, and she was surprisingly good. I never would have anticipated that, because she was a terrible liar. She was cast in a supporting role in an off-Broadway play, and she made the most of it. It was nice to have someone to go through scary career changes with. There were

a lot of tearful late night calls full of fear and doubt, but there were a lot of happy ones, too. We’d finally found our “things” and our goals seemed achievable.

Emma’s fears about her marriage proved unwarranted, as Neil and I both knew they would. Michael had transitioned to a job with a firm that gave him more freedom, and Emma had taken time off to pursue IVF. We kept a respectful distance from that topic, because we didn’t want to be nosy, but I knew Neil worried about her.

Michael and Emma visited us often, which helped Neil get over his initial grief of “losing” her. They drove out for dinner every Sunday night, and slowly, the house began to feel like the family home.

“I fear winter. You won’t be able to come out anymore,” Neil said during one dinner in November. “The roads will be too dangerous.”

“I think we can be the judge of whether the roads are too dangerous or not,” Michael chuckled. He was beginning to get used to Neil’s paternal possessiveness, just as Neil was beginning to warm to room temperature where Michael was concerned.

“Quite right,” Neil joked. “I should trust you to drag my only child through hazardous conditions in a Prius.” The utter revulsion in Neil’s tone made me smile.

“Hey,” I said, no longer able to contain our surprise. “We have some news.”

“Oh, yes.” Neil leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on either side of his plate “Why don’t you tell them, Sophie?”

I beamed at Emma. “We set the date.”

“Oh, thank Christ,” Emma blurted, her hand slapping her chest in relief. “I thought you were going to say you were pregnant.”

“Oh, god, no, nothing like that,” Neil said with a frown. “No, we have enough to worry about with the wedding.”

“So, when is it?” Michael asked.

“June seventh.” I was giddy just saying it. June seventh. Maybe I was a Disney-influenced, sugar-coated romantic optimist, but I couldn’t wait to get married, now that it was happening. I wanted the gown and the sappy traditions. I wanted to get dressed up like a bride and walk down that aisle to commit to forever together.

Well, more than we’d already committed to that, at least. We were pretty “together forever” already.

“June seventh?” Emma asked, looking nervously to Michael.

Neil frowned. “Is there something wrong with the date?”

“It’s, um…” Emma reached for Michael’s hands. “It’s just that I’m due June twenty-third.”

I wanted to gasp. I heard myself gasp. But I didn’t, because every essential bodily system seemed to be on arrest.

“Due where?” Neil looked between them, utterly oblivious.