The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

And then the rest of my family arrived.

When Mom and Tony and Neil and I learned of their arrival, we met in the main foyer. My grandmother and an assortment of aunts, uncles, and cousins stood in various degrees of discomfort and awe as they took everything in. My grandmother stared straight up, her mouth agape as she viewed the ridiculous mural on the ceiling of the second story. “My land.”

“Half-naked babies, am I right?” I said, startling her. She recovered in a snap and pulled me into her arms for a big hug.

“They’re cherubs,” Neil corrected me. He braced himself as Grandma hugged him, too, and stammered out, “H-hello, uh, grandmother.”

I hid my laugh behind my hand. She insisted Neil call her that, even though she was younger than his mother had been.

“This is some place,” Aunt Marie said, coming in for a hug.

“You can buy me one like this for my birthday, Neil,” Grandma told him.

He scoffed. “You throw a tantrum any time I try to replace your appliances.”

“But I always let you,” she reminded him, as though us buying her a new refrigerator was a favor she did for us.

“I’m so glad so many people could come.” I looked around the room and saw most of my cousins, some of them with their spouses and children, which really blew my mind. Time was moving so fast. One minute, we’d all been kids playing in the broken down truck behind Grandma and Grandpa’s house, and the next, I was thirty.

“Ah, here she is,” Neil said, turning suddenly. The housekeeper, followed by several staff members, hurried in. Neil addressed my family. “This is Joan. She and the household staff are going to see to your every need. She and Sophie have drawn up a rooming list, and Joan has provided you with maps, so you don’t get lost—”

“Maps? Of your house?” my cousin, Leanne, asked, juggling her son’s diaper bag on her shoulder.

“It’ll save you a lot of extra walking around,” I explained.

Grandma hoisted a small Coleman cooler. “Where’s the kitchen? I brought potato salad, and the ice in here is melting.”

“I’ll take that,” one of the staffers said, flinching in distaste when she touched the time-stained plastic handle.

Oh, think again, my good lady. I shot the woman the most passive-aggressive fake smile in the history of obviousness, and said, “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

Her expression completely froze. She got the hint. “None at all, ma’am.”

“If you’ll leave your bags and follow me, please?” Joan said. She was used to giving tours to television programs, Neil had once told me, and I’d almost passed out at that startling information.

Neil’s text alert chimed, and he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Darling, they’re here.”

“They’re early,” I said, my stomach twitching all over in fear.

“We should go,” Neil said, equally jumpy.

“Go?” Mom asked. “Everybody just got here.”

“Some of our other guests have arrived,” Neil said apologetically. “But everyone, please make yourselves at home. There is a brunch buffet set up in the East Gallery. I’m sure Joan can show you where to go, and she’ll give you a brief tour of the house while your luggage is delivered to your rooms.”

Jesus, we were treating my family like a tour group.

“I promise we’ll be more normal tonight,” I called after everybody.

“I doubt it,” Marie snarked back.

“Where are we meeting them?” I couldn’t handle our very first meeting with Amal and Rashida if it were part of a group family breakfast.

“We’re supposed to have lunch in the conservatory.” He paused. “In hindsight, that was a bit of a poor choice, wasn’t it?”

“God, there aren’t a bunch of dead butterflies in there, are there?” I pressed a hand to my temple. “It’s going to be okay. We’re all gonna be okay.”

“Yes, we will be.” Neil put his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “All though, I fear I won’t be able to eat a bite. I overdid it a bit with breakfast.”

“Me too. My BS was up already this morning.” By BS, I meant “blood sugar,” but I liked the abbreviation better. Diabetes was, in fact, BS.

Neil gave me a look of grave concern, and I immediately regretted saying anything. It was weird. When he’d been sick with cancer, I’d wanted him to open up to me, to share everything. Though our illnesses were different, I could understand now why he hadn’t wanted to. It was boring having to think about a disease all the time.

“What did you used to say to me?” I asked, nudging him with my elbow as we walked. “Don’t reduce me to numbers on a chart?”

He winced. “Must every word I’ve ever spoken come back to bite me in the ass?”

“Get better at words?” I suggested. Then, I felt like I’d jinxed us. I would probably say something incredibly stupid.