The Girlfriend (The Boss 2) - Page 129
Our food arrived, a gorgeous pesto and eggless pasta for Neil and a beautifully presented red tai curry and grilled tofu for me. The vegan thing was surprisingly easy to live with, and it hadn’t occurred to me to order meat in the first place.
I kinda wanted to call Emma and tell her.
“So,” Neil said, spreading his napkin in his lap. “I have barely heard anything about what’s happening in your life these days, Sophie.”
“You’re my life these days,” I said with a sweet smile he would know was partially me pulling his leg.
“That’s very sad, if it’s true.” He lifted his fork. “Something is happening. I know it is. You’ve been a bit moody, and I know it’s not still about my will.”
It wasn’t still about the will, he was right. We’d worked that out between me and him and Emma. If anything happened to Neil, I would receive ten million, all my jewelry, and Neil’s New York apartment. I’d fought him a little, until I’d realized that to Emma and Neil, it was practically pocket change.
My biggest problem lately had been missing Holli, and my bizarre unwillingness to speak to her in spite of it. I believe the exact word Lauren, my therapist, had used to describe the situation was “avoidance.”
I swallowed a bite. “Actually, something has been kind of bothering me. But I don’t want to bring you down.”
“Sophie, I just found out I don’t have to have chemotherapy tomorrow. You couldn’t possibly bring me down.” He lifted his fork to his mouth.
For a minute, I was paralyzed by the sight of his lips closing over the tines.
When we got home, he was in such trouble.
I cleared my throat. “Well... Holli and Deja are moving in together.”
“Congratulations to Holli and Deja. That’s wonderful news. Are they going to live in your old apartment?”
Old apartment? “Um, no. Holli is moving into Deja’s place.”
He nodded, like he understood something. “You’re worried about what will happen to your things? We can have them shipped here, or moved to my apartment—”
“No, I’m not worried about my stuff. I’m worried what will happen to the place where I live.”
He frowned slightly. “Why is that?”
I tilted my head, sensing the beginnings of a misunderstanding. “Well... we haven’t really discussed what’s going to happen after your treatment is over.”
His frown deepened. “I assumed we would continue living together. Was that a wrong assumption?”
I guess I had never thought about it before. Well, I’d thought about it, I’d just never brought it up to him. “I suppose that’s something we need to figure out. I have to get a job. I can’t do that here, I don’t have a work visa.”
“We could always get you one,” Neil said easily, as though it were just a matter of making a phone call. For him, it probably was. He had lawyers and stuff who took care of all of that. “Or we could go back to New York.”
“Your company is here, though. I thought the only reason you were in New York was because of Porteras. If Valerie is taking that over, what would be the point?”
“The point would be,” Neil began slowly, interrupting himself with a small, awkward laugh, “to be with you.”
“But how would you run your company?” I asked. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the idea that you would uproot your life and move to New York for me—”
“As you’ve done by moving to London with me,” he pointed out.
I nodded patiently. “I just didn’t want to be presumptuous. I said I would move in with you while you had treatment. I didn’t know if this was something you wanted to be more permanent.”
He swallowed the bite he’d taken and paused thoughtfully. “I would be willing to live in New York and expand the American office, if you want to go back to the States. I would have to come back to London on occasion. And I’d still like to retire at Langhurst court—”
“I don’t think we have to prepare for retirement yet, do we?” I laughed. “I know it’s your birthday and you get weird about that stuff, but come on.”
“If I plan to retire at sixty-five, that’s... Christ, that’s only sixteen years away.” He began rapidly swallowing from his champagne flute.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s a really long time. I mean, it’s nice to think that we’ll still be together then, but we haven’t even been dating for a year yet. Do you think you’ll even want to still be with me in fifteen years?”
“Yes,” he answered automatically. “You don’t have to answer that question for yourself. I know that our concept of time is quite different at the moment.”
“How so?” Not that I minded talking about the future. I’d been so careful to avoid the subject lately, since we had no idea how long Neil’s future would actually be.
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