Sophie (The Boss 8)

When the last of the guests had gone, I kicked off my heels and slumped into one of the living room armchairs. “This was fantastic.”

“Agree,” Rashida said, her head resting on the arm of a sofa, her eyes closed.

“I think it’s time for everyone to go to bed,” El-Mudad said, gesturing to where Olivia was passed out in Amal’s arms.

“I can put Olivia down,” Rashida volunteered.

“I’ll carry her for you,” Neil offered. Amal hefted the kid’s dead weight from her lap and into Neil’s arms.

Rashida got up and shuffled toward him. “Maybe you can put her down, then.” She put her arms around his waist, and he wrapped his free arm around her. “Love you, dad.”

“I love you, too, my sweet girl.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go on.”

Amal stood and stretched with a dramatic yawn and an enviable pop-pop-pop of her vertebrae. “Not to get too emotional,” she began dryly, “but for what it’s worth, I love you all, and I’m happy we’re all together. And now, I am going to bed. Don’t expect this depth of sentimental honesty to return tomorrow.”

My heart ached; though they’d never met, Amal was somehow so like Emma, at times. I wondered if Neil saw that. I didn’t know how he could miss it.

“Love you, too,” I responded, hoping I didn’t sound too mushy for her tastes.

El-Mudad slipped an arm around my waist as Amal left the room. He leaned in close and said, “I’ll meet you two in the bedroom.”

Those words went straight to my happy place.

Rather than follow him, I headed to the nursery, to see if Neil needed any help. But when I neared the door, I heard her sleepy voice and his low, gentle one, and I stopped to listen.

“And I’m a very lucky person,” she said, mid-conversation with him.

“I think you are, too. And I’m a very lucky person to be your afi.”

I tip-toed away so as not to interrupt them.

When I got to the bedroom, El-Mudad was in the closet. I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and check my blood sugar. When I came out, he and Neil were both sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What’s up?” I asked, coming to sit beside El-Mudad.

“I hope the two of you don’t mind,” he said, handing over a crisp manilla envelope.

“We said no gifts,” Neil reminded him with his intoxicating half-smile. He opened the present, anyway, withdrawing a sheet of very official-looking paper.

“Is that a deed?” I asked, craning my neck to see.

“It is…” Neil’s voice died away. “Darling…”

El-Mudad took Neil’s hand and kissed the wedding rings—both of them—on his fingers. “Look at all the love here tonight. Deja and Holli, Rebecca and Tony...even my daughter found love, all because the two of you met. I thought this would be appropriate. To show my gratitude for the love you’ve brought to me.”

Through a sudden veil of tears, I read the address on the deed. “You bought us the Los Angeles airport Crown Plaza?”

“Technically, it belongs to my real estate holdings company based in the Emirates, but yes. It’s for you.” He kissed my forehead, then Neil’s cheek. “It’s sacred ground to me. It’s where our love story begins.”

My face crumpled with happy, overwhelmed tears. I threw my arms around El-Mudad’s neck and squeezed him tight.

“You romantic bastard.” Neil chuckled and joined our hug.

“This is the stupidest, most wasteful, nonsensical thing you’ve ever done, and I love it.” I took El-Mudad’s face between my hands and kissed him. Neil didn’t let me monopolize him for very long, and soon our tender moment turned into an aggressive three-way kiss. None of us seemed to care whose mouths or tongues were touching. Someone grabbed my ass and pulled me closer, and we all came up for air.

Though I was exhausted, my emotions were still running at an all-time high that even strenuous sex long into the night couldn’t fully bring down. My husbands, not so much. Sexy shenanigans would have to be put on hold until we recovered from the party.

“After my eyes close, do not expect me to open them until at least this time tomorrow.” El-Mudad padded from the closet to the bed in the plaid flannel sleep pants that made him look like a freaking Abercrombie holiday catalog model.

“Not even for sex?” I teased him as he swooped in to kiss my cheek.

“Especially not for sex.” Then he took a running leap into the bed.

“The mattress is not a toy!” Neil scolded him.

I shook my head and laughed at them. “I’m still keyed up. And sore. I’m going to go take a bath.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Neil asked, his forehead creasing with concern.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He followed me into the bathroom. “You barely slept this morning, and you had an exhausting night.”

“Don’t pat yourself on the back too much,” I teased.