The Boyfriend Read Online Abigail Barnette (The Boss #7)

Categories Genre: BDSM, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
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Mom emerged, beaming, happy tears shining in her eyes. The dress was amazing. My mom was definitely what magazines would refer to as “plus-sized” and activists would refer to as “fat”, but she never feared fashion choices other women her size and age might have avoided. And of course, it paid off. The column of ivory silk fit her like a dream and highlighted all of her best assets, including the cleavage she adjusted matter-of-factly in the top of the gown. “These are going to look so much better in the bra I’m actually going to be wearing. I can’t believe I forgot it. The Spanx were the priority when I left the house, though.”

“You look amazing!” Deja assured her.

“Is it okay for a priest to pitch a tent during a wedding?” Holli asked, raising her eyebrows as Mom did a little turn. “Asking for a clergyman.”

“Oh, stop,” Mom scolded her. “The only man I’m interested in impressing is Tony.”

Her gaze moved to me, and her expression froze. “Sophie...what do you think?”

“I think—“ My throat was suddenly dry. “I think you look beautiful.”

She did look beautiful. But she looked alien and strange to me. My mom, standing there in her wedding dress, suddenly called to mind every relationship she’d ever had that I’d ruined with my bad behavior. Every date she couldn’t go on because I’d gotten “sick”. Every dog I’d pretended to be afraid of, every cat I’d feigned an allergy to.

I’d destroyed her happiness so many times. Now, I was upset because she wouldn’t immediately give me what I wanted from her.

I forced myself not to burst into tears, faked a cough, and asked the saleslady, “Would you mind getting me a glass of water?”

“Certainly,” she said, and hurried away.

Then, I got up and circled Mom, taking in the details of the stitching and construction. “I think you made a really good choice with the satin,” I mused aloud. “It looks so much better than the organza would have.”

“You think?” Mom asked, holding out one arm to study the sleeves. They ended in points on the back of her hand, held in place with clear loops around her middle fingers.

I picked up her hand and looked that part over. “I’m not a huge fan of this Elvira thing—“

“It’s a princess thing, not an Elvira thing,” she said. “I may be too old for a full-on Cinderella wedding dress, but I can have at least something.”

I took a step back, arms raised in mock defense. “Hey, it’s your wedding. I do really love that neckline, though.”

She looked back over her shoulder. “I’m kicking myself for not going with a train, though.”

“There’s still time,” Deja said, and when Holli snickered, she added, “What? For the money Sophie can put out on this dress, Becky could change her mind the morning of the wedding and still walk down the aisle in whatever she wanted.”

“No, I think I’ll save myself the panic. Besides, a train would be too difficult to deal with at the reception,” Mom said, lifting the skirt off the floor. “It’s bad enough that I’m worried about stepping on it now.”

“You’ll have taller shoes on, then,” I observed. “Also, we can get you a different dress for the reception.”

She shook her head firmly. “No. No way. I have waited a very long time to wear a wedding dress. You’ll be lucky if you don’t see me wearing it to the grocery store two weeks later.”

That innocent statement plunged yet another dagger into my heart.

After the fitting and a quick lunch with Holli and Deja, we headed home. The atmosphere had thawed while the midday drinks and chatter had flowed, but once Mom ad I were alone together in the car, things were as tense as ever. After spending all day putting on a brave face, everything overwhelmed me. As we pulled onto her street, I burst into tears.

“Sophie, what’s the matter?” Mom exclaimed.

I wiped at my eyes, furious that I hadn’t thought to bring tissues with me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This is supposed to be your happy day, and here I am, bawling.”

“It’s only going to ruin my day if it’s the bad kind of bawling,” she said, her brow wrinkling in concern.

“It is the bad kind,” I admitted. “Mom, I am...I am so, so sorry for all that stuff I did when I was a kid.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” she asked in alarm. Her gaze narrowed. “Did you drink too much at lunch?”

“Yes.” I would have to sober way the hell up before I saw Neil. He didn’t mind that I drank occasionally, but I always felt like an asshole when I did. “But I was feeling this way before then. You know how you said you’ve been waiting a really long time to wear a wedding dress?”


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