The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

I’d have to do what I could with what I had. “Mom. I am not throwing anyone away. You’re still important to me. Holli is still important to me. There is room in my heart to love everybody. You rejecting El-Mudad isn’t going to make my schedule gel with Holli’s any better than it does now. All I’m asking is that you get to know him without blaming him for...whatever it is you’re blaming him for.”

She pursed her lips and considered. Then, her shoulders sagged in defeat, and she let out a sigh. “All right. Maybe it’s been unfair of me to blame him for the distance between you and Holli. But I’m serious, Sophie. You can’t pretend that everyone is out there waiting for you, content to have money thrown at them when what they want is your attention and love.”

I didn’t think that’s what I’d been doing, but I nodded in agreement and said, “All right. Truce, then?”

“Truce.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “We need serving spoons. And the salad from the refrigerator.”

Once we were all seated at the table, our plates mounded with food, the mood lifted considerably. Olivia was a hell beast, announcing that peppers were yucky and she wouldn’t eat them. Mom just shrugged and told her, “You know where I keep the peanut butter, little missy,” and once Olivia realized no one would be catering an entirely new meal for her, she begrudgingly filled up on garlic bread and plain, buttered penne. Neil was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him in my mother’s house, and Tony was warm and excited to host us.

“I don’t know if we’ll have space to do this in our new place, unfortunately,” he told us.

“We can always have Sunday dinner at our house,” Neil promised.

Mom and Tony exchanged a look, and I latched onto it.

“You guys have already picked out a place,” I accused, my fork paused halfway to my mouth.

“We did,” Tony confirmed. “It’s in Brooklyn. Still a haul to get here, but not as bad as the one we looked at in Jersey City.”

“You never told me you were looking at houses.” My voice sounded a little higher than it normally would have.

Mom blinked. “I told you we were probably going to move before the wedding.”

“And the wedding is coming up,” Tony reminded me. “We’ve only got five months to go.”

“So, you’ve already bought it?” Neil asked, taking a sip from his water glass.

Tony nodded and tore a piece of bread in half to soak up some of the sauce from the peppers. “We should be closing here in a few weeks. Then it’s just a matter of actually moving.”

“Congratulations.” Neil raised his glass as if in a toast. “I don’t envy the experience. If I never go through all that paperwork again, it will be too soon.”

“I think you have enough houses,” El-Mudad quipped.

Mom and Tony moving would provide excellent cover for El-Mudad living with us. I knew that. It had been the plan all along. I’d even thought, I can’t wait for Mom to move, on a few occasions.

Now, she was moving. And I couldn’t imagine her being so far away. Which was ridiculous. I’d relocated from home to New York. Hell, I’d planned to run away to Tokyo. That hadn’t bothered me because I’d been starting a new life.

And that was the problem. This wasn’t me staring a new life, it was my Mom. I wanted her to always be available to me. I wanted to be the center of her world.

Suddenly, I understood why Neil had struggled to accept Emma’s marriage to Michael.

And I’d been applying those same feelings to Holli and Deja without realizing it.

“Hey, can you guys excuse me for a minute?” I asked, rising from the table.

Mom looked at me like I was bananas for even asking. “What is this, Buckingham Palace? Do you need a bathroom pass?”

“I don’t think they have to ask for bathroom passes at Buckingham Palace,” Tony said with a wink.

As I left the room, I overheard Neil begin a sentence with, “The last time I was there, they escorted us—“ as I closed the door behind me and took my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. I didn’t necessarily have to hear my already impressive husband talk about “the last time” he’d been to the Queen of England’s house.

“I’m so glad you recovered from your amnesia, laryngitis, and broken fingers,” Holli said in lieu of a hello.

“I’m sorry. There’s no excuse.” There wasn’t. I’d just been callously overlooking her the way I’d done whenever I’d gotten a boyfriend.

“I can think of one. El-Mudad moved in with you,” she said.

I frowned. “How did you know?”

“Your Mom. She came into the city for brunch with me and Deja last Sunday,” Holli said easily. “Your plane wasn’t getting back until the evening, otherwise we would have invited you.”