Chapter Six
Cassian
In the Verandah Café, Cassian was sitting in one of the wicker chairs, his hands forming a steeple in front of his chest while one foot rested atop its opposite knee.
Watching the ocean through the room’s large windows, he ruminated on the state of his engagement with Ethel.
While deep in thought, his eyes wandered over to the ivy-covered trellises.
He followed their length before surveying the rest of the room.
Mostly white, but beautified with many potted plants, the restaurant was bright and cheery—a stark contrast to his current mood—and that realization alone made him consider leaving, though he was still so hungry from not having had breakfast that morning.
Soon, a steward started toward his table, but before the man reached him, Cassian caught sight of James serving a family several tables over.
Immediately, Cassian stood, his negative emotions vanishing in an instant, and then, as though in a bit of a trance, he pushed past the steward who had been coming to serve him so that he could sit at an empty table near James instead.
“Why, if it isn’t Titanic’s most competent server,” Cassian said as he took a seat in the chair nearest to his new friend. “I’ll be sitting here. If this is, indeed, your section to wait on.”
“It is,” James said with an uncertain-looking smile, one that then became a bit playful. “Are you following me, Cassian?”
Hearing his name on James’s lips sent Cassian’s heart aflutter.
“I’m simply in search of middling service,” Cassian replied with a smirk.
James raised a hand to his chest and recoiled. “Middling?! Ah, well, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere, then. Because I only provide exceptional service.”
“Do you?” Cassian asked, crooking an eyebrow. “I’d like for you to prove that to me.”
Without hesitation and in the sincerest sounding tone, James simply replied, “I will.”
Cassian’s cheeks warmed, and he had to purse his lips to keep himself from smiling too much.
“Would you care for some coffee?” James asked.
“Only if it’s prepared precisely how I like it,” Cassian replied.
Bantering with James was simply too much fun.
“It will be.”
James left. He returned a minute later with a cup of coffee, made exactly the way that Cassian liked it. Cassian had expected as much from James. But as soon as Cassian swallowed his second sip, the memory of that morning’s breakfast came back to him, souring his mood instantly.
“Is it not to your liking?” James asked, his voice a mixture of tease and concern that Cassian couldn’t help but find incredibly sweet.
“No, it’s not that,” Cassian said through a sigh as he set the cup back on the table. “Breakfast this morning was . . .”
But Cassian couldn’t bring himself to say more. Instead, he closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hand. He came out a moment later to see James kneeling in front of him. His heart stuttered from the sight of James’s genuine worry.
Cassian huffed a dismissive laugh. “I’m fine, James.”
“You’re not fine. What happened?”
“I can’t relive it completely right now,” Cassian said. “I’ll say this, though: Ethel and I can’t seem to find pleasure in each other’s company. And it’s bothering me.”
James continued to look at him with unbridled concern. Cassian only wished that he could reach out and smooth away every single one of those ripples of worry that were etched across the man’s forehead.
Before Cassian could tell James not to fret, someone at the next table asked for more tea.
“Sorry,” James whispered before pushing himself to stand.
Seized with a fierce twinge of possessiveness, Cassian suddenly stood too. He hated being interrupted. Despite the fact that James was working, he wanted them to finish their conversation. And, luckily, he had the means to make that happen.
Cassian fished for his wallet and pulled out several bills, not even bothering to count them.
“Excuse me.” Cassian snapped his fingers a couple of times to snag the attention of the steward who had almost waited on him earlier. “Come over here, please.”
“Uhm, Cassian?” James said through a breathy laugh. “What—”
“Not now,” Cassian clipped as the other steward approached. Cassian handed him the money. “I need Mr. Morrow here to help me with something. And, therefore, I need you to wait on his tables for the next thirty minutes or so. Do you think you can do that for me?”
The steward’s eyes went wide as he stared at the bills in his hand.
“Yes, sir. Not a problem, sir,” he spluttered.
Cassian faked a smile and nodded. He took hold of James’s sleeve. Tugging once, he started for the door, letting go after a few steps. James continued to follow.
James came up beside him once they stepped through the revolving doors and entered the Smoking Room. “Where are we going?”
“You tell me,” Cassian said, walking with fast, purposeful strides. “Where can we chat without people bothering us?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps the lounge?”
“Perfect.”
The two men walked through the long corridor, passing the illustrious staircase and its overhead wrought iron and glass dome, and then they entered the First-Class Lounge, with its English oak woodwork and stained glass windows.
Inside, they found a relatively small alcove and sat next to each other on a plush green-and-white velvet couch.
Cassian relaxed back against the cushion.
“Anyway, where were we?” he asked.
He honestly couldn’t remember. All he could think about was the Goddamned relief he felt now that he and James could keep talking. Alone. Uninterrupted.
James leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and began twiddling his thumbs, the same worry lines rippling across his forehead within seconds.
“You were talking about your engagement.”
Cassian’s heart sank.
“Right.”
He frowned, realizing that perhaps he shouldn’t have been so impulsive. It would have been better if he had let James keep working, if only so that the man might have eventually forgotten about his somber mood and the reason for it.
“Cassian?”
Cassian touched his fingers to his forehead. “I shouldn’t be sharing these things with you.”
After a pause, James bumped Cassian with his knee.
“You can, though.” His voice was a lovely mixture of warm and playful that made Cassian’s cheeks flush. “I promise I won’t think less of you for it.”
Cassian pursed his lips, considering the option. He had enjoyed conversing with James the previous evening. He’d liked it more than he would have ever thought possible. Still, it wasn’t normal to be so forthcoming with a man like this.
“Maybe I could help somehow,” James offered sweetly.
It pulled at Cassian’s heart. Oh, God, now he couldn’t not share more, could he?
Not when James was looking at him like that, with such care and sincerity.
Besides, he had interrupted the man’s shift.
He’d foregone a second meal himself, too.
He might as well try to get something out of this conversation, even if that something was only a bit of relief from having shared some personal information.
“Cassian, I swear, I won’t—”
“Fine, look, I left breakfast early because I behaved poorly. And I behaved poorly because, as I so eloquently hinted at last night in my inebriated state, Ethel seems to be miserable with me. But I still can’t work out why that might be.
I’ve been holding onto the hope that this voyage might be lavish enough and special enough to lift her spirits, but so far, it hasn’t worked.
Now I’m stuck with the final hope that our marriage itself will eventually help her feel more content on the whole.
Once Ethel feels more secure financially, once she truly feels how well she’ll be taken care of, maybe those things will help her shake this melancholy.
Melancholy that I’m starting to feel, too.
” He sighed, and his chest began to ache.
“But I have an ever-present worry—one I can’t seem to look past—that maybe whatever is broken between us, can’t be fixed. ”
Cassian shut his eyes as soon as the words left his lips, and the ache in his chest intensified.
His strangely intimate confession hovered in the air between him and James.
It began taking up so much space in the lounge’s little nook that soon, Cassian found himself struggling to breathe, his throat tightening as the shame over his completely sober, completely improper show of vulnerability settled within him.
His eyes flitted over to the exit.
“Do you love her?” James asked.
Cassian stilled. James’s bizarre words echoed in his mind, and it took him a moment to really internalize what exactly James had asked. And it was so completely unexpected, so completely ridiculous, that he couldn’t help but splutter a laugh.
Smiling a little, James knocked Cassian’s foot with his.
“I’m not trying to be facetious,” James said. “I’m sincerely asking you whether or not you love her.”
“And I’m not trying to be evasive,” Cassian countered. “But I have no idea how I’m supposed to respond to that kind of inquiry.”
“Because it makes you uncomfortable?”
“Because the question is irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant?” James let out a scoff-laugh and sat up straighter. “How can it be irrelevant?”
“Because my problem has nothing to do with love.”
“What?” James’s eyes widened. “It has everything to do with love.”
Again and again, James kept on proving that he knew nothing of Cassian’s world.
“Love and marriage are two wholly separate things,” Cassian stated matter-of-factly. “Marriage isn’t emotional. It’s strategic. Yes, there are emotions involved, obviously. Ones like respect and trust and contentment and security.”
“Do you know what emotions are, Cassian?” James teased through a chuckle.
Cassian rolled his eyes and knocked the man’s shin with his foot.