Chapter 5
LACEY DRAGGED THE CURTAIN BACK from her tiny lower bunk, dived on the narrow mattress, and moaned into the pillow. Only a day and a half since Jon’s reappearance, and her emotions felt like an empty ketchup bottle that had been whacked too many times. How could she survive this for three more months? A soul-deep groan escaped her throat.
“That doesn’t sound good.” Lacey’s roommate, Abigail O’Brien, entered their compact cabin and swerved around a pile of dirty clothes. A fruit punch–colored stain covered the bottom half of her white Monarch polo. The five-foot-two fireball with flaming red hair to match was the sole person aboard who knew her secrets. “Is it your ex-fiancé again?”
“We were never engaged!” Lacey’s smothered voice rose from the pillow. She turned on her side to look at Abby.
“Fine. Is it your ex-boyfriend again?”
“Technically, we never officially dated.” She picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “We just hung out during our free time and port calls and meals and—”
“Did you ever kiss?”
Lacey averted her eyes. “Maybe.”
Abby snorted. “Sounds like dating to me. Who cares if you never announced you were going out? But let’s get back to where we started. Was it your ex-not-quite-official-boyfriend who put that frown on your face?”
“Who else? He crashed my art gallery tour this morning and charmed the passengers. Then he stood in the back of the room while I gave another group a presentation on Cozumel. Oh, and he brought me a glass of lemonade while I was covering the front desk, because the Shippers told him I was thirsty.”
“He brought you lemonade?” Abby leaned against the wall as she tugged her sneakers off and threw them across the messy room. “What a jerk.”
“Every time I turn around—there he is, bothering me.”
“I wish someone would bother me that way.” Abby ducked her head and plopped on the foot of the bed. Lacey scooted to make more room, banging her elbow against the ladder leading to Abby’s bunk. She rubbed her arm and leaned against the wall. Abby propped one leg up and massaged her toes. “Forget fancy presents. All I want is a man who will rub my feet without complaining.” She pointed her best puppy-dog face at her roommate. “Of course, if a friend offered …”
Lacey shimmied forward and held out a hand. “Give it.”
Abby stretched her leg and dropped it on Lacey’s lap. “Did I ever tell you you’re the best roomie I ever had? Including all three of my sisters.”
“You’re just saying that so I’ll do your other foot.”
“That’s one of the reasons, but the sentiment’s still true.” Abby put both hands behind her waist and arched her spine. “I don’t get it. The guy is sweet and thoughtful, and you won’t go blind looking at him, unless it’s from an overload of gorgeousness. Did he cheat on you or something?”
Lacey really didn’t want to talk about this. “He’s not the type.”
“Okay. Did he kick a puppy? Put pineapple on his pizza?”
“Very funny. We weren’t meant for each other. Let’s drop it.”
Abby shook her head.
Lacey squinted and pointed at the doorjamb. “Is that a spider?”
“If it were, you’d be the first one screaming. Don’t even try to distract me.”
Lacey dug her fingers into the ball of Abby’s foot.
“Ow.” The redhead winced. “Easy there. Was he a bad kisser?”
Lacey threw the Cinderella-sized foot off her lap. “I don’t have to finish this favor.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Abby held out her other foot and waggled her toes with a pathetic whimper.
Lacey grabbed it and kneaded the bottom with her thumbs.
“Was he a good kisser?” Abby was part bulldog. That was how she’d discovered Lacey’s secrets. Wearing her down. Little by little.
“Abb-yyyy,” Lacey warned as she rubbed tiny circles in the arch of her roomie’s foot.
Abby leaned forward with a glint in her eye. “Fireworks?”
“Like New Year’s Eve in Times Square.” Lacey’s fingers stilled as her mind strayed to the memories of those heart-stuttering kisses. Unforgettable. No matter how hard she’d tried to erase them.
“I’m drawing a blank. It must have been something serious to reject a guy who looks like that and brings you lemonade. Was it a spiritual problem?”
“I’d hardly be in a position to judge someone else’s faith. You know I don’t read my Bible nearly as much as you do. Besides, Jon was a very moral, God-fearing person.”
“Come here and let me pray for you.” Abby hollered at the ceiling. “Lord! We’ve got another pair of blind eyes that needs opening.” She studied Lacey. “The man is faithful, handsome, and kissable. What’s not to love?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Is that what you told him?”
“Not exactly.” Lacey examined the foot she was holding. The toenails were cropped short, no polish. “You could use a pedicure.”
“What exactly did you tell him?” Abby ignored her redirection.
Lacey ignored Abby ignoring her and kept massaging. Someone bumped along the passageway and entered the laundry room on the other side of the wall. She pointed in the direction of the noise. “It’s such a pain sleeping right next to the dryers.”
“Please tell me you explained why you left him.” Abby pulled her foot away. “You told him why it wouldn’t work, right?”
Lacey said nothing. She grabbed a wet wipe from the dispenser on the dresser and scrubbed at her fingers.
“You left him cold? Changed ships and didn’t even leave a forwarding?” Abby stuck a short, unpainted fingernail between her teeth and stared at her. “That’s hard-core harsh. The poor guy deserved a breakup text at the very least.”
“I told you. We weren’t—”
“I know. I know. You weren’t officially together. Except …” Abby’s lips pinched, and her eyebrows rose. “You totally were. Don’t you owe him an explanation?”
Lacey’s stomach churned, and she pushed the guilt behind a barrier of every excuse her brain could generate. Better she left the past dead and buried. It didn’t matter how many shovels the Shippers brought. Her relationship with Jon belonged in the graveyard.