The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

“How are you going to do that on my phone?” He demanded. I would never get over how easily simple technology eluded him at times.

“I’m going to open an incognito tab and sign into my email.” He was only fifty-four, for god’s sake.

“Just—” he began, but cut himself off.

“Just don’t look at your browser history?” I snorted. “I know how much you look at porn. You’re not going to shock me.”

“No, just don’t…” he shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to say.”

I glanced up from the screen. “Just don’t be disappointed if they don’t treat me as one of the family the instant I hit send. I know. And I think I’ve done a pretty good job of that.”

“You have,” he conceded.

“And,” I went on, though he’d already agreed with me, “I think I’ve done really well with giving them their space but still maintaining a relationship with Molly.”

As much of a relationship as we could have when one of our other sisters was overprotective of Molly and slightly suspicious of me. I could understand Susan’s caution. Molly had already experienced a devastating loss with the death of her father. She didn’t need some total stranger breezing in and out of her life. But I wasn’t planning to go anywhere, and I wished Susan would trust me.

I typed up a quick email asking Susan to keep me posted and reminding her of both my cell number and Neil’s just so we wouldn’t miss a call.

Neil watched me the entire time. When I gave him an ocular reprimand, he gestured to my hands. “You have my phone! What am I supposed to do while I wait?”

I nodded toward the colorful characters on the television. “Watch Doc McStuffins.”

His face, posture, and sigh all united in defeat.

I finished up and hit send, then gave him his phone back.

I clapped my hands together and rubbed them like I needed to warm them up. Maybe I did. I felt strangely numb. “Now I just...wait.”

Neil studied me silently for a moment, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. But he wasn’t teasing me when he said, “You’re not good at being patient.”

“I’m not,” I admitted. There was no point in arguing what was accurate enough to put in a biography of me. Really, I should have put it on a t-shirt to warn people.

He drew me into his arms so that I rested against his side, my head cradled in the dip of his shoulder. “Will it help if I say that these kinds of transplants are common and usually have good outcomes?”

“No.” I took his hand and pulled it to my lips to kiss his knuckles. “But thank you for trying.”

After some quiet silence, he said, “Will it help if you got your phone and checked it obsessively?”

“Probably not. That would only make things worse.” But I got to my feet. “I’m gonna do it, anyway.”

Neil chuckled. “My darling, I would expect no less.”

One of the biggest drawbacks of having a ridiculous square footage is that you have a lot of time to think while you walk. Considering I almost busted my ass on three different Tonka truck wrecks on the way back to the kitchen, it was no wonder that I ended up thinking about Olivia.

After all the worrying and planning and meticulous daily scheduling we’d worked out as we tried desperately to raise her without making any mistakes, how had we managed to fuck up something as big as preschool? I snatched my purse off the floor, fished out my phone, and went back to the den and Doc McStuffins.

Neil was already deeply absorbed in some mobile game. He didn’t look up when I entered. “I hate that they make you sit through ads between levels.”

I squinted at him in annoyance. “You have billions of dollars. Pay the buck ninety-nine to get the ads turned off.”

“I didn’t become a billionaire by throwing money away two dollars at a time,” he grumbled.

I sat back down beside him. “No, you became a billionaire when your dad gave you a company.”

“Exactly,” Neil said, finally looking up to give me a wry smile. “The old-fashioned way.”

“Well, you do not want to know how much I spent on Love Nikki, Dress UP Queen last month.” Not that much, actually; games were no fun if you could just pay to win them. “So, Deja said something today.”

“You saw Deja? And the baby?” For someone who hadn’t wanted more kids when we’d started dating, Neil still loved babies.

“No, there was no baby there. Just a screeching, snotty hell-beast from the depths of your worst nightmares.” My ears would probably never stop ringing. “I got them set up with a night nurse.”

“That we’re paying for,” he finished for me.