The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

The kitchen table was going to be too cramped for all of us, and it was such a nice day that we’d decided to eat on the patio outside the dining room. El-Mudad and Tony went downstairs to unload the food from the dumbwaiter while Mom and I loaded it up and Neil kept Olivia occupied; she was always angling for a ride in the damn thing, which had necessitated a combination lock on both ends.

“So far, so good?” I asked Mom nervously. I’d gone from an acceptance of her disapproval and problem with my relationship to desperation for her approval in a few short days.

She shrugged. “I haven’t really had time to figure out if it’s going good or not, have I?”

“No, but...” But what? But I wanted her to hurry up and get on my timeline for acceptance?

She closed the door behind the last dish and hit the button to send it down. “It isn’t like I hate him. He’s a very nice guy.”

“Um, you really didn’t like him before. Like, when he stayed with me to help me when Neil was in the hospital. Or at Christmas,” I reminded her, in case she felt like she could gloss over all of that as we moved forward.

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I also thought there was something fishy going on at the time.” Her expression softened. “And I want to apologize to you for that. It wasn’t fair of me to accuse you of cheating on Neil. I know you better than that. I know you’re a better person than that.”

“You sure didn’t seem to think that when you walked in on us,” I pointed out.

“What was I supposed to think? That there was a rational explanation behind you cuddling, half-naked, with a guy who isn’t your husband?” she asked.

“Okay. That part’s fair. But you thought it before, so I’ll accept your apology for those times.” I turned and walked away. “Especially since something fishy was going on.”

Just not in the way she’d thought.

Our dining patio sat nestled in a carefully designed and landscaped sunken area partially shaded by a balcony above and surrounded by the gentle ridge of a man-made hill. A fieldstone hearth stood woefully unused near a wet bar with an outdoor television and blocky modern furniture that we rarely got around to sitting on.

“We should have more parties out here,” I observed as I sat at the long, slate-topped dining table.

A fountain set into the retaining wall burbled cheerfully, and Neil had to herd Olivia away from splashing in it. He dried her hands with a napkin before he took his seat. “We’re about to have a rather large party in a few weeks. Are you ready, Tony?”

Mom jumped in before he could answer. “What the hell does he have to be ready for? I’m the one who’s going to be up at the ass crack of dawn getting my hair and makeup done, wrestling into a thousand foundation garments—“

“Getting your makeup and hair touched up after you work up a sweat struggling into those foundation garments,” I supplied for her. At her warning look, I added, “What? I’ve had a wedding. I know how it goes.”

“Hopefully I won’t hyperventilate and throw up like you did before yours,” Mom said with a laugh.

Neil looked positively stricken. “You threw up before our wedding?”

“Nerves about the ceremony,” I reassured him. “Not cold feet. I didn’t have any doubts.”

He picked up my hand and kissed it. “Neither did I. But I must confess, I did feel a bit dizzy when it was time to actually stand at the altar.”

“There wasn’t an altar at your wedding,” Mom said, all passive-aggressive and Catholic. “And there wasn’t a priest, either.”

I reached for the basket of bread in the center of the table. “Let it go, Rebecca.”

El-Mudad had been very quiet, and I didn’t know if that was because he hadn’t been to our wedding—we had been on a bit of a hiatus with him while he’d worked out divorce and his custody agreement—or if he was simply uncomfortable around my mom now. I didn’t blame him either way. But I did appreciate it when he finally entered the conversation. “From what I’ve seen of the plans for your reception here, it seems you’ll have a lovely day.”

“Where’s the tent going to be again?” Tony asked, twisting in his seat. “Becky told me, but I couldn’t quite imagine it.”

“The tent will be on the lawn, near the path to the beach,” I explained.

“And the path will be lined with posts and string lights,” Mom added.

Now this, this was a subject I could hold forth on forever. Both of us could, probably. “And there are going to be floating candles and flower arrangements in the pool.”

“And you’ll have the television on some kind of sport down here, I presume,” Neil said dryly. “For your male relatives.”