“Girl being the operative word. Come on, don’t you think this is a bit unfair to Emma?” Valerie asked.
“I don’t see how.” Neil’s tone was even. He wasn’t allowing himself to let Valerie draw him into an argument. “I’m not asking Emma to date Sophie.”
“It bothers her. She told me it does. You have to admit, it’s strange to be sleeping with someone the same age as your daughter.”
I realized in that moment that she wasn’t just commenting on Neil’s private life. She was actively plotting to get rid of me.
I heard something clatter to the countertop. When Neil answered her, he was terse, his anger unmistakable. “I haven’t asked for your opinion or advice in the matter. You are free to dislike Sophie, but as long as you are in my house, you will be civil to her. She isn’t a passing fancy or a midlife crisis. She’s a part of my life and I expect her to be for a very long time.”
“She tried to help Gabriella Winters sabotage Porteras. Aren’t you the slightest bit suspicious that she might not have your best interests at heart?”
That was it. I wasn’t going to listen to any more, and I wasn’t going to let Neil listen to any more, either. I squared my shoulders, took a few quiet steps back from the door, then raised a racket with my heels on the marble floor, calling, “Hey, do you guys need help in there?” before I pushed my way in. I didn’t look at Valerie, though I desperately wanted to make full, glaring eye contact with her. I kind of didn’t want her to know that I’d overheard her. It was embarrassing.
“I think we have everything, darling.” Neil had set the champagne bottle aside, and he reached for it now.
“Everything except your sparkling company, of course,” Valerie said, and the weird thing was, I could almost believe she was being nice, if I hadn’t heard the nasty things she’d said about me.
“I suppose I should congratulate you,” I said with a bright smile at the both of them. “Your daughter is getting married.”
Neil knocked over two of the glasses. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if it had to do with his obvious displeasure at Michael’s proposal, or something worse. I went to his side at once, and Valerie moved aside.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, putting a hand on his back as he righted the flutes.
“Fine. I’m fine.” But he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a gesture I used to think was habitual, but now I suspected had to do with the headaches from the leukemia.
I turned to Valerie and faked an apologetic smile. “Could you give us a moment?”
She blinked at me, and then said, “Of course. Yes, of course. Let us know if you need any more help.”
After she left, the door swinging behind her, Neil looked up with a pained expression and said, “You heard every bloody word.”
“I did. I don’t like her.” I wasn’t going to lie. It wouldn’t help to pretend like it didn’t bother me. “But I can get along with her. I don’t want to make waves.”
“Or splash blood on the walls?” he filled one flute and handed it to me. “We didn’t meet yesterday, Sophie. I can read your face like a book.”
“Oh god, could everyone tell that I’m massively threatened by her?” I took a long swallow from my glass.
“That’s for the toast,” he scolded. “And you needn’t be threatened by her. Regardless of what she may imagine, Valerie doesn’t have that kind of control over my personal life.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” I watched as he filled the other flutes, and I spied the other bottle on the counter. “Hey, do you have more of this? We should take some up to our room tonight.”
He put an arm around my waist and pulled me close, brushing his lips over my forehead. “You see? I love you for your brain, not just that incredible body.”
I laughed, and he released me to lift the tray of glasses. Just a moment ago, he’d been weak and fumbling, now he was fine. Then I had the horrible thought that “fine” Neil had been hiding his illness from me for a long time. I vividly remembered every instance where he’d complained about a headache or looked tired, and I felt so guilty for not realizing there had been a problem.
“Shall we?” He asked, and I quickly composed my expression.
No matter what happened, I resolved that I wouldn’t let him see my worry. At least, not right now.
We stayed up late celebrating Emma’s engagement, but when talk turned to dresses and flower arrangements, Neil suggested he and I turn in. We said our goodnights, then made the trek to his room. I was so thankful once we were alone again. Meeting his family had been lovely, for the most part, but the stresses of the evening— good and bad— had sapped my energy.