Sophie (The Boss 8)

I gave him a big hug. "Nobody staying sober for the babies?"

"No, we have a night nurse for the occasion. Going to be a little strange going home to pump my wife with a stranger downstairs, but it's the one chance we've got," he crossed his fingers in hopeful sarcasm. I didn’t let him know that I was very much aware of how much pumping was going on at their house. He glanced past me. "No Neil, then?"

They’d been friends since their college days, and Ian was well-acquainted with Neil’s various issues. It wasn't a betrayal for me to explain, "No. We're having a little bit of an issue with Valerie at the moment, and the stress is making him distrustful of his ability to make good choices."

"Issues? With Valerie?" Ian scoffed. "How unlikely."

"Behave," I warned him, though I secretly loved that at least one of Neil's friends didn't think the sun shone out of her ass. "Where's Penny?"

"Off with her girls. Waiting for me to bring her a drink." He nodded back to the line, which had almost doubled. "If I don't return, tell her I've always loved her. Do it in a way she'll like. Quote Braveheart or something."

"Will do." I laughed and set off across the floor. Chances were, Deja and Holli had posted up somewhere visible. I headed in the direction Ian indicated and found my friends in a cluster near the stage. Deja was swamped with well-wishers, while Holli and Penny stood politely aside. Holli spotted me first.

As much as I wanted to compliment her on her amazing Iris Van Herpen mini dress with its arrangement of fluted pleats spilling black chiffon like a melting piano, I had one burning question. "Is Lana here?"

"Not yet." Holli chewed her bottom lip and toyed with one glam curl. "Do you think I look hot?"

"Super hot," I confirmed. "Do you think she’ll think I’m cool enough?"

Penny laughed. "You guys are worried about impressing a celebrity, and I'm just happy to be out of the house."

"It's okay to have different priorities," I said, a little defensive.

"Where's Neil?" Holli asked, looking around behind me, as though I'd sprinted ahead and abandoned him.

"Somewhere alcohol isn't." Speaking of which… "I need drinks and hors d'oeuvres."

"I have to stay and be a trophy wife," Holli said under her breath. "I'm sure you understand?"

I gave her a fist bump. "Trophy wives, unite."

"I'll come with you," Penny volunteered, smoothing the front of her daring, super-structured pink Alexander McQueen with cut-outs at her waist and sheer mesh from the knees down. "I have no idea where my husband went or when he'll be back."

“He was over there.” I pointed, but I’d lost visual confirmation in the crowd. “Trying to get you a drink.”

A waiter brushed past us with a tray of luscious cream-filled pastries, garnished with raspberries and mint leaves. I snagged a couple, and we forged ahead. "I'm starving. I forgot to eat before I left."

"Isn't that a little dangerous with diabetes?" Penny asked doubtfully. Then she quickly apologized. "Sorry. That's none of my business."

"Nah, don't worry about it. I appreciate that you care." Of course, so many people cared about my diabetes that I was starting to feel like the heroine of one of those Lurline McDaniels novels my mom got nostalgic over. "But I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't even notice most of the time that I have any problems."

"Oh." Penny sounded doubtful, but she didn't pry further.

Though the bar we found had a much shorter line than some others, it was still a long enough wait that I ordered two Long Islands so I wouldn't have to rush back.

Penny sipped a rum and Coke as we found our way back to Holli and Deja. As we approached, I recognized El-Mudad's jacket. He stood beside Ian, deep in conversation with both him and Holli.

Ian saw us and brightened. "Sophie! Look who I found. You didn't tell me he would be here."

"Officially, I had no idea that our good friend would be here." I emphasized the "good friend" part.

"Sorry," Ian said sheepishly. "That never occurred to me."

"There have been some...words exchanged. About our living arrangement," El-Mudad explained.

"Yeah, the picture of you guys leaving 1 Oak didn't help," Holli pointed out. "It looked like you'd just been fucking or something."

"Yes. In the men’s room," El-Mudad observed placidly, taking a sip from his glass.

Penny choked on her drink.

When Deja finally got a chance to break away from industry people to join us, she looked as though she was officially done peopling, possibly forever. "Oh my god, Sophie, I'm so mad at you for stepping down from the magazine. You could be fielding some of these conversations."

"I'm bad at conversations," I reminded her. "Great at talking, bad at conversations."

"No. I have had many wonderful conversations with you," El-Mudad insisted. Sometimes, he couldn't tell when I was self-deprecating on purpose. I winked at him.