The Sister (The Boss 6)

Was I being selfish? A teenage girl needed a kidney to survive. A girl who had similar dreams to the ones I’d had when I’d been living in a small U.P. town. All she wanted was to grow up and get out, into a world I’d fallen ass-backwards into.

Every day, the divide between the life I used to live and the life I lived grew wider. When I’d first moved in with Neil, I’d felt like I didn’t fit into a world where designer clothes, palatial homes, and impulsive trips were the norm. Suddenly, I felt like that world didn’t fit in with me.

But there was no going back. It wasn’t like Neil could throw his money into a fire or something. And it wasn’t like I could just buy myself another kidney, another life if something went wrong. This decision had nothing to do with money, and everything to do with me.

Neil knocked on the door, as if this wasn’t his bedroom, too.

“Come in,” I called, and he entered cautiously, closing the door softly behind him.

He walked over to the couch with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry that I lost my temper. You asked me to let you take the lead, and I couldn’t do it, even through a single dinner.”

“It’s okay. Really, it is. You were trying to defend me. Even if I probably didn’t deserve it.” I sat up and ran a hand over my hair.

“Why wouldn’t you deserve it?” Neil asked, sitting beside me.

“Well, because here I am, knowing that there’s this kid out there who could die without my help, and I’m whining about how her daddy didn’t do enough for me.” I made a noise of disgust aimed solely at myself. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“I don’t think you are,” he said, and before I could argue that of course he would think that where I was concerned, he went on. “This isn’t just about your sister or your father. You’re involved in this. They chose to involve you. They don’t get to set the terms of your acceptance if you go through with this.”

“I don’t even know if there are terms of acceptance.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he asked, “Because there won’t be an acceptance?”

“No.” I stated definitely. “I’m doing it.”

He took a deep breath.

“I have to.” I hoped he could understand. I thought he might, already. “All this girl wants is the same chance I wanted when I was her age. Move to New York, live some glamorous dream. No, it doesn’t work out for anybody, but she at least deserves to fantasize about it without tacking on, ‘if I’m still alive’ to the end. What kind of person would I be if I could give that to her and was like, ‘Nah, my hurt feelings are more important than you living. Hard pass’? Not the kind of person I want to be.”

“If this is something…” He stopped to reconsider his words. “If this is something you really couldn’t live with, there’s no reason you should. I don’t like the idea of you going in for major surgery, but donation is fairly safe. And we have no idea if you’re even a candidate.”

“That’s why I offered them money. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, I don’t think money is a problem. How much can a single kidney transplant cost? A million dollars?” he asked, as though that sum were nothing.

“Around three-hundred thousand,” I corrected him. “But for most people, it might as well be a million. I’m worried about them thinking I’m throwing my money in their faces.”

“Because of what he said about the fancy dinner party?” he asked with a sigh. “I knew I went overboard.”

“No, it’s not just the caterer or the…stupid fucking tree branch in the middle of the table? Ugh,” I groaned. “What was that about?”

“Sophie. Stay on topic,” Neil said gently.

“Right.” I rubbed my left temple with my fingertips. “So, yeah. I’m a little embarrassed to have all this stuff when they don’t? And when my family doesn’t, or the people I went to school with—”

“Most people don’t have the things we do. You’re always reminding me of that. Are you worried you’re not mindful of it?”

“No. I mean, it’s not about not being mindful. I know how lucky we are.” The reason was far more superficial than I would have liked to admit. “I guess I just want everyone to know that I know.”

He paused, thoughtful. “I’ve never once felt guilty about my wealth. Maybe because I’ve always had it? But I don’t understand why you do. When you were fantasizing about the fashion world back in Calumet, were you hoping for a life where you couldn’t own those fabulous clothes you saw in magazines?”

“No,” I admitted.

“So, you got what you wanted. Why feel guilty about enjoying it?” Neil didn’t mean to sound like the poster boy for the One Percent, I knew he didn’t. And I knew how much of his fortune he’d spent on charitable causes, even before he’d started the crisis center. But he couldn’t possibly understand how strange the last few years had been for me. It was like one big shame pimple had been building up that entire time and had now just exploded like a water balloon of pus.