The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

Holli beamed. “That’s what I’m saying! Zie might not know what a shark is, but Zie would still benefit from the colorful fishies.”

“By all means, take Piett to the aquarium,” Deja said with a shudder. “I will skip anything having to do with the ocean. You know that shit freaks me out.”

“That’s too bad,” Mom said with feigned sadness. “Because Sophie and Neil have a yacht now.”

“Well, I mean. I have a yacht. But I bought it as a Christmas present for Neil and El-Mudad,” I said, to make it clear that Sophie and Neil weren’t a unit unto themselves anymore. Now that the cat was out of the bag, it was just courtesy to accept that.

Instead, Mom turned away and went to a book of designs lying on an industrial-chic side table.

Deja shot me a sympathetic glance.

“I was meaning to talk to you about this yacht thing,” Holli said. “Let’s pretend, just hypothetically, someone you knew and loved very, very much—”

“Yes, you can use it.” I rolled my eyes. “You can use any of our places. You know that.” My gaze cut to my mother. “I offered to let Mom and Tony use the apartment in Venice for their honeymoon.”

“And that was very nice of you,” she said without looking up, but a smile did touch her face. “But we’re perfectly happy with our cruise.”

“You can take a cruise on a yacht,” Holli pointed out, and I almost frantically waved my arms at her. Holli and Deja hanging out on our yacht-built-for-three? Absolutely. Mom and Tony? Absolutely no way.

“And my yacht isn’t even as nice as El-Mudad’s yachts.” I hoped he didn’t mind my blatantly volunteering his personal property; at least there was no real danger of her taking me up on it.

“I have always wanted to go on an honest-to-god cruise,” Mom said, straightening. “Like the Love Boat.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Deja said, just as a door to the back of the shop opened.

The woman who emerged was tall and slender, with tan skin, light brown hair in a low ponytail-style that I could never pull off without looking I was in the fifth grade, and teeth so straight and white she was probably a dental model on the weekends. “There’s the bride!” She practically ran to my mom on the balls of her feet in her very tall stiletto heels. “Are you ready to see what you’ll be walking down the aisle in? Hopefully?”

“Um, yeah, hopefully,” Holli said without humor. “There ain’t a lot of time to make a new one.”

I elbowed her in her ribs.

Mom embraced the dress saleslady more warmly than she’d managed to hug me recently. I decided on the spot that whoever this woman was, I hated her guts for stealing my mom.

We were ushered into yet another utilitarian, highly-Instagrammable room. This one was stark white with floors that were probably ethically sourced reclaimed barnwood or some other hipster nonsense. I couldn’t believe my mom had chosen this snobby place to buy her dress, just because I had suggested it.

Oh. Damnit.

A dress form shrouded in black satin stood in the center of the room beneath strings of vintage-style lightbulbs. The windows were draped in sheer white curtains that could have been wedding dresses, themselves.

“It’s like Pinterest projectile vomited in here,” I whispered to Holli, who snorted.

The woman who’d led us into the room shot us a sharp look, but quickly recovered her customer service face. “Okay, Becky. Let’s get you a chair—“

Of course, it was a wooden folding chair like that of an old timey ship’s deck furniture. Of course.

Mom sat down and clapped her hands in excitement. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m about to see my wedding dress.”

I knew the feeling. Sort of. I remembered the first time I’d seen my dress. How excited I’d been to marry Neil, how magical the dress had seemed as part of the whole process. My mom had been waiting a lot longer. That wasn’t a dig at her age. It was an observation of just how much I’d screwed her life up for her. First, by existing, then by running off any guy who’d ever showed an interest.

Suddenly, I felt like I shouldn’t be in the room with her. I was the obstacle she’d had to overcome for her happiness. And she was still unhappy with me. Tears sprang to my eyes and I blinked them back. If I stole the focus on a day as important as today, it would be yet another instance of me stealing my mother’s joy.

The saleswoman made a big show of whipping off the black drape that concealed the dress. When she did, I was momentarily shocked out of my self-pity and blame. I’d always assumed my mom, being who she was, would go for some kind of giant, Princess Di fantasy that would make distinguishing between the cake and the bride a real challenge. Instead, the dress was a beautiful column of ivory satin with a cowl neck and full-length sleeves. It was plain and elegant and, well...