Sophie (The Boss 8)

Oh. Oh. "Yeah. Well. We'll see. Thank you."

I gave her a half-hearted wave and opened the back door, ushering Olivia in and buckling her up with hands that trembled from delayed stage fright.

"El-Mudad!" Olivia shrieked in delight, a stark contrast to her reaction at my arrival.

"My Olivia!" He matched her enthusiasm. "I couldn't wait to see you. I had to come here myself." When I slid into my seat, he asked, "What did that woman want?"

"Nothing important," I said with a forced smile.

From the back, Olivia said morosely, "Not in front of Olivia."

"I'm sorry, my Olivia," he apologized. "Tell me about your day."

While she recounted with painstaking detail every moment from arrival to departure, my mind reeled. It should have been such a simple encounter; a woman enjoyed my books. She wanted to read another one. That was flattering. Being recognized, as though I were some kind of celebrity? A little thrilling.

Or would have been if not for the circumstances. A stranger had been curious about the intimate details of my life. I didn't want that. I didn't want any kind of fame that would put a spotlight on our family, especially in light of our precarious situation with Valerie.

Maybe I should have been flattered by the recognition, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something not quite right had just happened.

Magazine cover unveiling parties served two purposes: self-congratulatory ego-stroking for everyone involved in the successful celebrity collaboration, a tribute paid in free booze, and luxurious gift bags to people with the power to make everyone talk about it. It had been one of my favorite parts of working at Porteras and Mode, because I’d rarely had to do anything at the events other than drink and spot celebrities.

Though I no longer ran Mode with Deja, I still had a financial stake in the magazine, and I was pleased that it was doing so well. I was also delighted that the night would be a fundraiser for my husband’s charitable work and several other groups dedicated to helping victims of child sexual abuse in the United States. Sure, I was nowhere near Neil or El-Mudad in the rich and important rankings, but it was nice to work my own connections and feel like I contributed more to the planet than plastic waste.

Also, walking into the party looking hot as hell with my husband on my arm? I would feel like a real successful bitch, then.

Plus, I needed a win at the moment. Though we’d spent the holidays blessedly free from Laurence and Valerie—apart from helping Olivia FaceTime them on Christmas morning—Elwood & Stern bounced back like it always did, and February had seen Valerie’s return to the New York offices.

And our visitation schedule.

I was fastening on my earring in the dressing room mirror when Neil came in wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.

My stomach dropped. "You're a little under-dressed."

"Sophie, I can't go to the party."

"Yeah, I got that from the whole…" I turned and gestured at his clothes. "Kind of late notice."

"I know. Because I had every intention of going. And I apologize. But with the situation with Laurence and Valerie, I'm not in the best place. I don't think it would be wise for me to be in a social environment where the alcohol will be flowing." He looked down, ashamed, and my heart tore in two. “And I don’t want you to have to spend your entire night babysitting me.”

I went to his side and threw my arms around his shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me? Did you tell Dr. Harris?"

"We've talked about it. I called him this morning. I just hoped I would tap into some well of inner strength between then and now, I suppose."

I stepped back to look him in the eye. "Neil. This is a publicity event for a fashion magazine. Tapping into a well of inner strength is not something I would ask of you for this. I'll just go stag."

He smiled down at me, his eyes full of sadness and disappointment. It stung to know that no matter what I said to reassure him, he would feel he'd ruined my evening. That he'd failed me in some way. And he would use that to beat himself up when he really should have been proud to make such a healthy decision for himself. “It’s also a charity evening that I should be attending.”

“I’m there as your representative.” Honestly, it wasn’t like I couldn’t handle going to a party by myself. Maybe I’d feel like an even more successful bitch if I walked that red carpet solo. “Is El-Mudad still coming, though?”

"He's getting ready right now." Neil kissed my forehead. "I am sorry. I wish—"

"Don't," I said firmly. "This is the right thing. The only thing you didn't do right was that you didn’t count on me to understand. We're all messed up over the Olivia situation right now. If we don't talk about it, it'll drive us bonkers. And I would rather you not go bonkers alone."