The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

I wasn’t sure I should spring the money conversation on her at the moment, but luckily she fixated on an entirely different detail. “Six months is a long time.”

“Maybe longer.” If there was one person on this entire Earth that I could trust myself to say this to, it was... well, it was Holli, but it was also my mom. “Honestly, if he wanted me to stay permanently, maybe I would. I really love him. But nothing is set in stone yet. We’re just trying to get through right now.”

“Oh, honey.” My mom has a great mom sigh, and she unleashed it then. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. I trust you to make the right decisions.”

“I am.” And surprisingly, despite the hellacious bad week Neil and I had just weathered and the nightmare of chemotherapy looming ahead, I really was happy. My heart swelled up, and I felt like my mother and I were closer than we’d been in months.

And then she said, “I’m just so worried about you being so far away from home. You’re still very young, and some of those countries are just not safe.”

I would be a hundred and my mom would think I was too young. And I was going to England, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even have to learn a different language.

“I hate to point out that Ricky is twenty and he just spent a year in Afghanistan, which is a lot further away and a lot more hostile than England,” I said in as patient a tone as I could manage.

“But it’s different, honey. You’re a girl, it’s more dangerous out there for you.”

My hand rose in the air beside my head, clenched into a fist, and I bit my lip hard before responding. “I hear the buzzer, I have to go get the door.”

“Okay, good-bye, honey. I love you!”

“Love you, too, mom.” I clicked the button on the phone and hoped my irritation at mom’s predictably misogynist comments would get me through my inevitable Christmas homesickness.

CHAPTER FIVE

Billionaires are horrible at moving.

I had every piece of my five-piece luggage set open on my bed, in an impressive game of suitcase Tetris. We had two more days before we left for England, and I seriously had to get my shit together, but Neil mostly stood around, looking helplessly at my room and complaining about the manual labor.

“I don’t see why you’re doing all of this yourself. You could bring some essentials for the holiday week and we could purchase anything else you need once we’re in London. We can hire movers for the rest.” Neil said all of this like the concept of moving one’s own belongings confused and horrified him.

“Um, I’m not entirely comfortable with the whole, ‘buy new things’ plan. I don’t have a job, and I’m on severely limited funds right now.” Before he could protest, I held up a hand. “I know, you’re a billionaire. But I really don’t want to spend a bunch of your money on stuff I already have. That’s so wasteful.”

He sighed wearily. “All right. There’s no reason we can’t get this sorted, between the two of us. I assume you’re not planning on bringing furniture?”

“No, I figured you had some of that. I just want my clothes and some of my books. My computer, of course. And an obscene amount of shoes.” I smiled sweetly at him. Gosh, today felt so much better than the day before. I was starting to feel... dare I say it? Normal. The pregnancy seemed like just an irritating nightmare now, nothing so truly horrible as to have caused a lasting impact on us. “You know... I’m finally feeling like we’re us again?”

A smile spread slowly across Neil’s face. “I’m very glad.”

I grinned at him and held up a pair of frilly pink panties. “Do you think I’ll need these?”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find a use for them.” But his smile faded. He cleared his throat, a red flush creeping up his neck. “I assume you’re aware that our sex life might be impacted by chemotherapy.”

I had thought about it, but I wasn’t sure it was something I should bring up. I nodded, shoving the panties into my bag. “I looked it up online. It really sounds like you’re going to be miserable.”

“I did some research, as well. I’m not sure what approach Dr. Grant will take, but I know he plans to be fairly aggressive. We’ll discuss all of that when we meet with him on the twenty-eighth.” He flipped through the clothes in my makeshift closet. “It’s going to be a bit of a whirlwind once we get there, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, it’s that or sit around here and be unemployed.” I grabbed my strapless bra and dropped it into the suitcase. “Besides, I have a feeling your whole life is kind of a whirlwind.”