The Girlfriend (The Boss) (50 page)

“He’s in isolation. You can speak to him via intercom, if he’s awake.” Dr. Grant motioned us out of the meeting room and into the hall. But I couldn’t move. I was rooted where I stood.

I wanted to see Neil. God, I wanted to see him. But now that I had the chance, I didn’t know that I could face him. Not like this.

Whatever spurs the sick urge in me to run away when things are uncertain, it was responsible for me ever having met Neil at all. And now, it made me want to run out of the hospital, out of the country, across the ocean to a life I could never have again.

But I couldn’t walk away from Neil. I hadn’t yet. Even if this was the end of the line, I was going to see it through.

“Are you coming, Sophie?” Emma asked.

I needed a moment to collect myself. “Um. You go ahead. I’ll be along in a minute.”

“Take your time,” Michael said gently. “We won’t let him get far.”

I tried to smile.

After they had gone on without me, I stood in the little meeting room with my hands clasped in front of my stomach. One thing I miss about being religious is the physical act of prayer. It used to make me feel so calm and in control. But now it would make me just feel empty and fake, so I paced the floor and tried to work out what I wanted to tell Neil. Something that would make it clear that I love him. That I would always love him. But without sounding like I was saying goodbye.

There weren’t words, I decided after a long pause. My feet felt as though they’d been super-glued to the floor. Anything I said would sound like goodbye. All I could do was exactly what I had been doing all along. I had to be at his side. I had to be with him and lend him as much strength as I could summon up. If this was the beginning of his last days on earth, I wasn’t going to ruin it with my sadness.

I caught a nurse in the hallway and asked her to show me the way. As we walked up the wide, clean hall, we passed Emma. She was crying, hard, and Michael gave me a pitying smile.

Run. Turn around and run.

No way in hell.

When Dr. Grant had said isolation room, he wasn’t kidding. The room was accessible from an airlock, and there was a window to pass things through, presumably for when he when well enough to get up and come for them. If that happened. Beyond the glass, a nurse in a gown, mask, and puffy surgical cap was hovering over Neil, checking his lines, taking his pulse. He looked pale, even for a transplant patient.

Has this all been worth it?
I asked myself.
All of the worry? All the depression and loneliness, was it really worth it? You could have stayed in New York. You could have had a life. You’re going to be starting over. No boyfriend. No job. Nothing but a lost year.

And then he opened his eyes and smiled weakly at me, and I knew I wouldn’t trade a moment of what we’d had together.

I wouldn’t have to. As I pressed my palm against the glass and smiled at him through my tears, I knew everything was going to be okay. I loved Neil. Even if he didn’t come out of this, that wouldn’t change. It would be hard— the hardest thing that ever happened to me— but our love wouldn’t change. I would go on with my life. Maybe one day, I would move on and be with someone else. But I would always have Neil. I would always be the girl in the hotel room in Los Angeles. I would always be the woman sitting in the back of her new boss’s car, telling him that he looked different when he was looking at her.

I would always be Neil Elwood’s girlfriend.

I’d thought I’d put my life on hold for him, but I was wrong. I’d been living my life
with
him. And he would still be a part of my life, even if he didn’t make it through this.

Being loved by Neil Elwood was far more than I’d ever hoped for. If we had a future, I would take it. I really hoped we had a future. But if we didn’t...

This could be enough. Just having him for this short time could be enough.

I kept my hand pressed to the glass, and I smiled at him, and he smiled back at me. My lover, my love, my best friend.

He would always be mine. And I was, irrevocably, his.

EPILOGUE

You know what’s awesome about London? Pretty much everything, when you’re not so busy worrying about your boyfriend’s cancer to enjoy it. I dreaded going back to New York, though Neil had warned me to expect a lot of pond hopping once he went back to work after the holidays. We were going to try to stay in the US as much as possible, but my job was really flexible, these days. Either way, my resident visa was well on the way to being completed, and I was totally in love with my new part-time home.

My memoir about living through cancer with Neil would be released in March of the next year. It was only November, and already the publisher was sending out promotional packets and first-looks. The publicity push would be huge, and though India had warned me not to pin too many hopes to the release of a debut book, I also had my impending audition for a spot on network television. I was on top of the world.

There wasn’t much of a reason not to be. After a scary twenty days of hospitalization following the transplant, Neil had come home. His strength had returned; it had taken him three months to be able to walk to the bathroom without getting winded. But slowly, our lives had shifted focus from all things cancer, to something more close to normal. One by one, bits of medical equipment moved out of our home. Doctor appointments became farther apart on our schedules. And at the one hundred day mark post transplant, he was mostly normal again.

I jogged up the steps to the front door of the house in Belgravia, balancing my shopping bags. I may have gone slightly overboard, but I had been itching to spend my book advance, instead of Neil’s money, for a change. I dropped my purchases to the foyer floor and called out, “I’m home,” on the off chance Neil might be close enough to hear me. The high-dose chemotherapy and transplant had really damaged his hearing. I tried not to tease him about it, because it made him feel “old,” but sometimes, it was kind of funny.

Like now, when he came down the stairs right in front of me, saw me and said, “Oh, you’re home. I didn’t hear you come in.”

I shook my head and smiled. “How’s your day been, dear?”

I knew he hadn’t gone into the office, because he wasn’t dressed for it. He wore a black sweater over a button down, the cuffs of his sleeves rolled back, and comfy, well-worn jeans. One thing I hadn’t expected, though I probably should have, was how the entire cancer nightmare had changed his appearance. His hair had grown back, but it was mostly gray now, and he wasn’t as toned as he used to be. In fact, he’d kept his little chemo belly, which I found bizarrely cute, and he hated.

“I met with the new trainer, though I’m not sure she’s going to work out.” He grimaced as he came down the stairs in his bare feet. “She had a lot of opinions with regards to the Feng Shui or lack thereof in the gym. I just want to be able to see the damned television from the treadmill.”

“Poor baby,” I patronized him. Then, on a more serious note, I asked, “Are you sure you want to start working out again, already? You’re supposed to take it easy on yourself this year.”

“Taking it easy and being lazy are very similar things,” he argued mildly.

I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him on this point. He’d decided over a month ago that he was going to be all better now, even when it was clear fatigue was getting to him. I changed the subject. “Do you want to see what I bought? Some of it will be very... inspirational.”

“I’m sure it will.” He grinned as he took both of my hands in his. “But first, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

“A surprise?” I did as he commanded, letting him guide me toward the elevator.

“Keep them closed,” Neil reminded me, brushing a hand over my eyes. “Or shall I blindfold you?”

I grinned. “That would make this even more interesting.”

I heard the elevator doors close, and the chime dinged four times on the way up.

“So, we’re going up to the fourth floor,” I said with a smile as we negotiated the next flight. “Can I take my coat off before you ravish me?”

“I’m not going to ravish you. Well, not yet, anyway.” I heard a door open— the bedroom door, I assumed— and he walked me inside. He halted me, saying, “Okay. You can open them now.”

I stood in front of the door to the master bathroom, which stood open. I raised an eyebrow at him before stepping inside. My eyes were drawn immediately to the tub. The new tub, because the big, white stone oval wasn’t there anymore. It was
my
tub, my gorgeous, copper and porcelain, high-backed, claw-footed tub, looking totally out of place in the ultra-modern bathroom.

Tears of joy sprang to my eyes. “I... I missed you so much.”

“Now, it’s not
the
bathtub from your apartment, but it’s the same model,” Neil informed me apologetically. “
The
tub is in storage in New York.”

“It... should be in the old apartment, where I left it.” I raised an eyebrow. “Unless you did something very silly.”

“I bought it. Not the whole building, I thought that might be overkill. But I did buy the bathtub.”

“Well, a lot of good it’s going to do me in storage,” I teased. “No room for it in one of your four bathrooms there?”

“I thought you might like it better in our new house,” he said, so casually I didn’t process it at first.

When I did, I was sure I’d misheard. “Wait, what new house?”

“The apartment in New York is too small. And Elizabeth remodeled it after we moved in together. Everything there is...” He shrugged. “I want a new start. I want to make a home with you. One that we pick out together. Would you do that?”

“Are you... asking me to buy a house with you? Because I have to tell you, my credit rating might be a hindrance...” I leaned into his body, trailing my fingertips across the front of his shirt.

“Subs with smart mouths get paddled,” he warned.

I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck as he dipped his head to kiss me. I had to take his threat seriously, because now that he was feeling better, he was making up for lost time.

There were times I was so happy, I couldn’t believe my luck. My boyfriend had beaten cancer. At least, unofficially, since we had to wait for the one-year anniversary of his remission to get the all clear. But he was alive. My career had changed, and it was amazing so far. While I still missed Holli terribly, I was happy for her in her new life. And I had Emma. Emma, who I’d thought would never like me, but who was now one of my most cherished family members.

And I did, truly, feel like I had a family with Neil. We belonged together in a way I’d never felt I belonged with anyone. Standing in his strong, protective arms, I felt like I was truly home.

Smiling up at him, I suggested, “How about this... let me get my bags, and I’ll change into something a little less comfortable, but a whole lot more interesting.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. I fished it out, checked the screen, and said apologetically, “Hang on. It’s mom.”

Neil let me go reluctantly.

“Hi mom.” My face burned with shame at the thought that she might know I’d just been saying naughty things to my boyfriend.

“Sophie Anne, you haven’t called me in two weeks,” she scolded.

“I’m sorry.” I rolled my eyes and grimaced as Neil apparently enjoyed my suffering. “I’ve been swamped with—”
 

“With your book, I know.” She blew an exasperated breath into the receiver. “I hope you didn’t waste all of that check, Miss Big Time. Or maybe your boyfriend can afford a plane ticket?”

I may not have told my mom yet that Neil was insanely rich. I was still warming up to break that news.

Frowning, I asked, “What are you talking about?”

“For Christmas? Remember, last year you promised that if Neil was feeling better, you’d be coming home.”
 

Oh, she could remember me promising to come home, but she couldn’t remember that she’d already told me the same story about “that bitch” at work three times?
 

She went on. “And I expect to see him with you. I want to meet this kid.”

Oh yeah. I hadn’t told her that Neil was older than I was, either. I definitely hadn’t told her that he was older than
she was
.

Helplessly, I looked to Neil, my mind spinning.

“Sophie Ann,” my mother warned, and even though I was an ocean away physically, my emotions were on a total guilt trip.

“Um... yeah. I’m sure we can do that. Let me talk it over with him, first. I’ll give you a call back later, okay?” We hung up, and I met Neil’s amused expression with what I was certain was a sour one. Malicious satisfaction curled through me as I watched him pale at my next words:
 

“Well, Mr. Elwood, it looks like this year, you’re coming to Christmas with
my
family.”

Abigail Barnette
is the alter-ego of author, blogger, and all-around funny person, Jenny Trout. Writing as Jennifer Armintrout, she made the USA Today Bestseller list with
Blood Ties Book One: The Turning.
Her novel
American Vampire
was named one of the top ten horror novels of 2011 by
Booklist Online
. When she’s not writing award-winning erotic romance, she’s either sleeping or otherwise incapacitated.

She is a proud Michigander, mother of two, and wife to the only person capable of spending extended periods of time with her without wanting to murder her.