The Ex (The Boss 4)

I didn’t. I imagined my stare drilling into his head like that space laser from Alien vs. Predator, rupturing vessels and searing away gray matter the same way the Predators had drilled through the arctic shelf.

He slipped his phone into his jacket pocket, rose and nodded to me. “Sophie. It was very nice to meet you.”

“I hope you die.”

“Pardon?” he asked in mild bewilderment.

Could he not fucking hear? Was it actually inconceivable to him that I would say something like that? If he was that stupid, I’d repeat it for him. “I hope you die. I know we all die someday, but I hope you die soon. And I hope it’s awful. And I hope you’re afraid for a long time while it’s happening.”

He forced a smile. A smug, victorious smile, as though my loss of temper had proven something. That shift in expression confirmed my opinion. He wasn’t sorry. He’d come here for the drama, for his own edification. To make amends with himself and be absolved of his past.

He turned and walked out, and I gripped the chair cushion, my whole body trembling. It was only through the strength of my concern for Neil that I managed to calm myself down by the time he and Dr. Harris emerged from the office.

Neil didn’t talk much in the car. “I know you planned to stay in the city tonight. I was hoping we could go home.” He smiled sadly and took my hand. “I need to be at home. In the present.”

“Yeah, of course.” I stroked my thumb along his. “Anything you want.”

“And I don’t—” He broke off and rubbed the back of his neck, staring out the window at the Manhattan traffic. “I don’t feel safe here while he is. It’s a city of eight million people, I know I’m not likely to run into him, but… Ah, that’s stupid.”

I laid my hand on his knee. It wasn’t going to do any good to argue with him about whether or not his fear was perfectly acceptable. At least he was taking steps toward protecting himself, even if they seemed illogical.

* * * *

Dr. Harris had given Neil a few Valium to help control his post-confrontation anxiety. I’d made him swear in front of the doctor that they wouldn’t be taken in conjunction with anything. Neil took a pill in the car and another when we arrived at the house. I took him straight to bed, but sleep eluded me.

Cautiously rising from the bed, I grabbed my phone and texted Mom. You up?

I knew she was, because the little gray dots indicating that she would respond popped up. But it took her a long time to answer. When she did, all it said was, Yup.

Frowning, I pulled on my robe and went into the hallway to dial her number.

“Yeah, Soph?” she answered. The TV was on in the background.

“I can’t sleep. I had kind of a hard day.” I took a deep breath. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“I do. But what happened to the big fancy bar in the basement? Don’t tell me you threw away all that booze just because you remodeled.” She snorted at her own joke.

Maybe it was because of the day I’d had. Maybe it was the year. I was suddenly weary to tears. I sniffled as I asked, “Can I just come over?”

“Of course, honey,” she said, her voice full of the motherly concern she’d always shown me after a break up or a bad grade.

But never a scraped knee, because parents who work at hospitals wouldn’t “poor baby” you if your leg got ripped off.

“Okay. I just need to get dressed, and I’ll be right there.”

I put on sweats and grabbed a hoodie. Even though it was July, being this close to the ocean made the nights a little chilly. As I stepped out the kitchen door, I passed Tony going up to his apartment over the porte-cochere.

“Late night tonight?” I called, and he startled, a hand on his chest.

“Ms. Scaife. You scared the hell out of me.” He looked so sheepish at being

easily frightened, I decided not to laugh at him.

“Sorry. I’m just happy that anybody is awake, right now.” I pointed toward the driveway. “I’m headed down to Mom’s place. She can’t sleep, either.”

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, almost too quickly.

For a second, I considered reminding him that we didn’t care what he did after he punched the clock. Especially since he’d spent all day ferrying us around. I worried such a statement would be condescending, so I kept it to myself. “No, I think I’ll just walk. Get some fresh air and clear my head.”