The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

I tapped her on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and find Rebecca, and we’ll be along in a minute, okay?”

“Okay!” She climbed down from the mattress and charged toward the door.

“No running!” Neil called after her. I had a feeling it fell on selectively deaf little ears. He got up and closed the door then leaned back on it with a long exhale. “Sophie. Really, now.”

“I know.” I dropped my head into my hands in frustration. “I’ve talked to her. I have. But she’s my mom. I can’t stand to hurt her feelings.”

“Her feelings shouldn’t be hurt over a request like, ‘please don’t barge in on my husband and I while we’re in our bedroom.’ And she of all people, considering what you—”

One hand shot out to shush him. “No. You don’t get to take me back there.”

Walking in on my mom having sex with our limo driver was not an experience I felt like reliving. Especially since he was about to become my stepfather.

“Look, I’ll talk to her again, okay? And I’ll be really firm about it, too,” I promised, rising up on my knees and shuffling toward the end of the bed. “But it’s only until June. After the wedding, they’re moving out.”

Neil came back to meet me, taking my hand to put it on his chest, over his heart. He covered my fingers with his and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I just...I so very much want this to work. I’m tired of one of us being missing.”

I leaned my head against him. “Yeah. Me, too.”

There was more keeping us from being the happy threesome that we wanted to be than just my mother’s lack of appropriate boundaries. El-Mudad had two children and joint custody with his ex-wife. We had yet to meet Amal and Rashida, not because he didn’t feel we were permanent enough to be a part of his daughters’ lives, but because we collectively had no idea how to approach explaining our relationship to them. We didn’t know if we even should.

It was difficult enough for us with Olivia. She knew El-Mudad was our good friend and that he visited us for long periods of time, but we were careful not to display any kind of romantic affection toward him when she was around. Neil had reasoned that unless we wanted to be out to everyone, we’d have to keep our relationship secret until Olivia was an adult, at which point she would be either unsurprised after having figured it out years before or scarred for life at the thought of her parental figures hooking up with a lifelong family friend.

In a perfect world, El-Mudad would be there for my birthday, to say some cornball thing that would sound meltingly romantic coming from him. We had second-best plans for that night. “Hey, at least we get Skype sex!”

“Mmm, and we have a surprise planned for you, as well.” Neil lifted my hand and kissed it.

I shivered at the thought of what that surprise might be. My Sir and Monsieur could be very inventive.

Neil opted for a quick shower while I dressed and headed to the kitchen. Mom was there at the kitchen island, plating slices of cake while Olivia clumsily added scoops of ice cream on the side. Our housekeeper, Julia, stood by giving sidelong glares and wiping up spills and crumbs. Mariposa, Olivia’s nanny, carefully tried to supervise the ice cream part of the operation.

She looked up, a spiraling black curl falling from her bun and into her tan face. She gave me an apologetic grimace, then came to my side to say quietly, “I’m so sorry. Your mother wanted—”

I waved my hand. “You’re not in trouble. What were you supposed to do, hold Olivia hostage?”

Mariposa’s shoulders visibly relaxed. I had a feeling everyone would be more at ease once my mom lived...elsewhere.

“Olivia?” I called, and she looked up, tangled blonde curls dipping into the ice cream. “You need to go with Mariposa to get ready for the day.”

“No, thank you, please,” she said breezily, depositing another chunk of ice cream on a plate and wiping it from the spoon with her finger. Then she licked her finger and the scoop.

The entire container was a vector for disease.

“Olivia,” Mariposa began, gentle and stern like Mary Poppins. “Sophie told you to do something. Do you want to get a dot this early in the morning?”

I didn’t exactly know how the dots system worked or what the consequences were if she got too many. I did know that the threat of getting one of the round stickers on her discipline chart was usually enough to motivate her. This time was no different. She held up both hands and said, “Okay, okay! I’m coming. Jeez.”

I covered my mouth and nose to try and contain my snort of laughter. As Mariposa led Olivia from the kitchen, I heard the former firmly scold the latter about her tone.