The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

I had a feeling that my Aidan Turner crush might have inspired that a bit.

“You can sit beside Sophie,” Neil told him. “I’ll stay back here with Olivia.”

We’d had to cut the Maybach loose from family trips, now that there were four of us. The custom extended Escalade suited our needs better, though Neil always protested that it felt like a minivan.

We would drop Olivia off at Valerie and Laurence’s brownstone in the city before making our way to JFK to board our jet. From there, we would fly down to Antigua, where our as-yet-unused yacht had lived for the winter, and from there we’d make the crossing.

I loved putting it that way. It sounded like we were explorers. Or going on the Titanic.

Maybe that wasn’t the best comparison to make right before going to get on a boat.

“Will you miss Olivia?” Olivia asked us on the drive. She’d started doing this weird third-person thing when she talked about herself that was oddly charming. I knew we were supposed to correct her so she’d learn the proper grammar, but it was so super cute.

“I will miss Olivia very much,” I promised. “I’ll miss Olivia every day.”

She beamed with pride.

“Afi will miss you, as well,” Neil added.

El-Mudad put in, “So will I.”

“Everyone misses Olivia.” She hugged herself and squealed in delight.

Though I often worried that our frequent absences traumatized her, other times, I wondered if they weren’t building her an ego the size of Greenland.

“Yes, everyone misses Olivia,” Neil agreed. “Which is why it’s so nice of you to choose to spend this time with Grandma Valerie and Grandpa Laurence.”

At least, that’s how we’d framed the idea when we’d told Olivia about our trip. She’d been disappointed to miss the “boat ride” at first, but we’d done our best to make it sound super unappealing and to raise sympathy for her poor grandmother, living with absolutely no Olivia for weeks at a time.

The notion of anyone being deprived of her company had been an unthinkable horror.

Shortly before meeting Laurence, Valerie had purchased a four-story brownstone. When Olivia had been born, she’d converted the entire third floor to a nursery and playroom. That was before Emma and Michael had died; she’d been that psyched for a grandkid. Olivia often talked longingly about this or that toy at Grandma Valerie’s house, and of course, Neil would instantly rush out and buy it or an even better version of it. The arms race for most baby stuff hadn’t ended with the pregnancy, as I’d hoped it would.

We pulled up to the curb in front of the house. Only Neil and I got out; we’d agreed that the less El-Mudad was seen with us by Valerie and Laurence, the better, though I was reasonably sure Olivia would let all sorts of bombs drop in our absence. Once she was freed from her car seat restraints, she launched herself at El-Mudad.

“Miss Olivia!” she commanded him, patting his face with both hands before throwing her arms around his neck.

He laughed. “I promise, I will.”

Neil offered his hand to help her step out, and he held it all the way up the steep stairs to the front door. If the walk had been entirely level, he would have done the same. He was a man pulled in different directions, between the post-fatherhood life and luxury retirement he’d dreamed of, and his desire to be with his granddaughter full-time in the way he hadn’t been for her mother. But Neil and Valerie had raised Emma to be a wonderful person. Olivia would only come out the better for being raised the same way.

Then again, I knew as well as anyone that missing parents were a hole that couldn’t be filled. No matter how hard my grandparents had loved me, they hadn’t been able to replace my father. I hoped that as Olivia grew older and started to understand the world a bit better, she would realize that her parents hadn’t wanted to leave her. They’d just had no choice.

Laurence answered the door when we rang the bell. His eyes went immediately to Olivia, and he gave her a broad smile. “There’s my girl!”

Olivia put her arms out, and Laurence picked her up for a hug.

Neil’s posture straightened. He really didn’t like the sudden competition for grandfather status.

“Settle down, Afi,” I muttered under my breath, and he relaxed a little.

Laurence’s expression of happiness faded a bit when he finally made eye contact with us. “Off again, I see?”

I bristled. What the hell did he mean by that? And how were we supposed to respond?

“Yes. To Spain, this time,” Neil said easily. “By way of Antigua.”

“Valerie isn’t home,” Laurence explained, though we hadn’t asked. “She’s working. At your company, of all places.”

“Her company, as well. And her dedication is noted,” Neil replied, his eyes unkind above his smile.