The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

“I know I can, too.” Well, I didn’t know that; I’d never had a serious boyfriend. But considering the way I’d packed up and fled across the sea, I could make an educated guess. “But it’s good that you and Deja are where you are, Holli. You and I couldn’t go on being each other’s platonic life partners forever. We’re just changing a little bit. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“This is really weird, isn’t it?” Holli giggled. “This time last year, I felt like, ‘I’m finally a grown up. I’ve finally got things figured out.’ And then Deja comes along and it’s like... whoa. I didn’t have as much figured out as I thought I did.”

“I think it’s going to be like that for our entire lives.” At least, it seemed like it would be. I’d thought I had my life figured out so many times, and now I was stuck in a weird place of limbo I had never expected. Would there be more times like this? Just hanging out, waiting to see what would happen?

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so... happy. I know you’re going through stuff right now,” Holli apologized.

“Nah. It’s nice to hear about life outside of the cancer bubble. You’re one of the few people I can talk to and say what I’m really feeling about all of this stuff.”

“What about Neil?” Holli asked carefully. “Are things with you guys not...”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” I considered before I expanded on that. “I don’t feel like anything has changed between us. I mean, I know he loves me, and I love him, but it’s like every time I want to get close to him, nope. There’s the cancer. He’s either too tired to talk or too sick to be touched, and none of that is his fault. But even when he’s having an okay day, there’s a protective bubble around him.”

“The cancer bubble?” Holli asked, using my earlier terminology.

“Yeah. The cancer bubble. It’s almost like he’s not here. Like he’s on pause, and my life with him is on pause, and we’re just waiting to see if somebody is going to hit play again or just stop the thing entirely.” My voice quivered, and I wiped at my eyes. “You don’t want to hear all of this.”

“Bullshit I don’t. You’re in pain, Sophie, I can hear it in your voice.” Her tone was sympathetic and helpless. “Have you thought about going to a support group?”

“Can you really see me in a support group?” Holli knew me better than anyone. She knew I would never open up to a stranger, let alone a group of strangers all crying into their wadded up tissues.

“Good point.” I heard Holli’s sigh over the line. “Too bad there isn’t a handbook or something.”

“I’ve found a lot of information online, but it’s so nonspecific. ‘The effects of chemotherapy vary from patient to patient. Your loved ones may experience yadda yadda.’” The frustration in my voice was creeping into my neck muscles. I was going to have a whopper of a headache tonight. “I just want to see the way I’m feeling written down. ‘Yes, it is totally normal for Neil Elwood to be withdrawn and weird during chemotherapy, and he still loves Sophie Scaife and wants her around.’”

“I’m sure he does.” Holli’s tone was so earnest, it was easy to believe her. “I really hate that you’re so far away right now. After we met up in Paris, I went by that cafe every day. I was kind of hoping I would see you there, even though I knew you were in London.” Her sad laugh broke my heart. “I know what you mean about isolation, Sophie. Trust me. I feel like I’m finally achieving something great, something I maybe didn’t want to let myself hope for. And in return, I’m never home, I’m always working, Deja is getting pissed at me for never being around... It’s different from what you’re going through, obviously. But I guess what I’m saying is, don’t feel alone. In your isolation. We’re together, side by side in our glass tubes.”

“That’s not how isolation works,” I pointed out, and then we both laughed.

“Fuck you, bitch, I’m trying to cheer you up!” Holli shrieked in mock outrage. “Seriously, though, I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you. Do something that will make you happy.”

When we hung up, I tried to think about what would make me happy. Neil not having cancer. That would make me happy. Neil surviving this. That would make me happy. Neither of those things were guaranteed, and every day he just got sicker and sicker.

I went to the door of the den and peeked in. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling, his normally soft snoring like the roaring of a freight train.

There was a linen closet on the third floor. I went to it and grabbed a woven cotton blanket. I took it to Neil in the den and carefully tucked it over him. His eyes didn’t open, but his hand caught mine. He mumbled something I couldn’t understand and squeezed my fingers, and I leaned down to kiss his forehead.