Chapter 50
Kissed the captain. More later.
He didn’t just kiss me, he kissed me. My entire body flushes with excitement. I’m giddy. Forget parasailing, I’ve never felt higher. I’m not sure I will ever recover.
We decided not to take things any further last night, despite my body screaming at me to reconsider.
Too many drinks, too many feelings. I could tell Ellis needed time to think and maybe I did too.
But that was six hours ago, and we’re leaving soon.
I have to see him. I brush my furry teeth, throw on some clothes and eagerly arrive at his door twenty minutes later.
‘Hey, Sophie,’ he says flatly. I can spot a hangover when I see one. ‘I’m skipping breakfast this morning. My appetite is non-existent. You go ahead.’
‘I wasn’t even thinking about breakfast,’ I reply, which initially was true until I remembered they have pain au chocolat. ‘Can I come in?’
He has two cases laid out on the floor, another annoying reminder that we’re leaving in a couple of hours. I haven’t packed a thing. This is too important. He continues to empty his wardrobe while I sit on the bed.
‘So, I was thinking,’ I begin. ‘When we get back, to London, we should meet up.’
‘Yeah,’ he replies with zero enthusiasm. ‘That’d be nice. We can have coffee or lunch or something. Depends on where I’ll be.’
Coffee? Lunch? You told me you have feelings for me and had your tongue in my mouth. Where is the enthusiasm?
‘No, I meant, like a date. I’d really like to see you again. You know, see where this goes?’
The look on his face isn’t the one I’m hoping for. He sits beside me on the bed.
‘Sophie, I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to go anywhere.’
‘But I thought . . . last night . . .’
‘I know.’ He rubs his forehead. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What am I missing here?’ I ask. ‘I know we’d had a few drinks, but I didn’t just imagine last night. Why the change of heart? I don’t get it. Was it something I—’
‘It’s not you, believe me,’ he says, his face looking strained. ‘I meant everything I said. You’re amazing and funny and . . . fuck, I should have been honest from the start. It wasn’t fair to you.’
‘Honest about what?’ I start to feel a little unwell. ‘Jesus, Ellis, just spit it out.’
‘Sophie, I’m not divorced.’
My already fragile stomach continues to churn. ‘Not divorced?’
‘No, I’m—’
I shoot up, creating some distance between us. ‘Are you kidding me?’
‘If you’ll just let me explain, I—’
‘Explain what? That you’re a liar?’ I start to pace the floor. ‘That somewhere in London there are two kids and an oblivious wife waiting at home for you? Jesus, I’m an idiot.’
‘You’re not an idiot! It’s not like that.’
‘Was it all bullshit? Was this your plan? Pretend to be divorced, throw in the whole “I’m not interested in a relationship” spiel so you can piss off afterwards, guilt-free. Well, you missed a trick not sleeping with me, I would have jumped into bed with you in a heartbeat.’
‘There wasn’t any plan. I didn’t plan any of this.’
‘I might be looking to meet someone but that someone is not a married man! Fuck, at least those pineapple maniacs are honest.’
He sits quietly, while I take a beat.
‘I just don’t get it,’ I say. ‘We’re both grown-ups. Why not just say you’re single?’
‘Because I’m not single, Sophie. I’m widowed. My wife died.’
Fucking hell. I wasn’t expecting that. My pacing quickly grinds to a halt.
‘Two years ago . . . my wife, Abby . . . she had breast cancer. Runs in her family.’
I feel a pang of remorse for yelling at him now. But he shouldn’t have lied. I sit back down on the bed. ‘Shit. That’s awful, I’m so sorry for you.’
‘Yeah, it was a tough time. The kids are grown but it was obviously hard on everyone. I didn’t tell you I was widowed because “divorced” doesn’t elicit the same response.’
‘I think I understand.’
‘When I talk about Abby, I feel sad and, God knows, I spend enough time feeling sad. But I’d never say I was single. I couldn’t ever bring myself to say that. That’s somehow worse than not mentioning her at all.’
It’s starting to make a little more sense now. Referring to his wife as ‘was’ instead of ‘is’. Having had enough love to last him a lifetime. Why he’s here alone.
‘I took time off to be with her,’ he tells me. ‘Then I took time off to grieve her. And now . . . well, I’m taking time to decide if this is still the life that I want. I don’t think I can just keep going down the same road without her. I need things to change.’
‘Ellis, I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he assures me. ‘Just know that I’ve loved spending time with you. Fuck, you’re the only woman I’ve spent any time with since I lost Abby . . . But I’m just not ready for anything else. I’m not sure I ever will be. That part is still true.’
‘I understand,’ I reply. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I hope everything works out for you, Ellis.’
I get up and head towards the door.
‘Just know,’ he says, before I leave. ‘Our kiss. I don’t regret it. At the time, it felt right. But . . .’
‘But not any more. I get it.’
He nods. I open the door and leave.
I get back to my room, my head spinning. I feel sad. I feel foolish. A forty-five-year-old woman getting all misty-eyed over one kiss from a man she only met a week ago. It’s ridiculous.
I don’t feel like breakfast any more either. I start to pack, robotically going through the motions while I try to make sense of it all. Wet shampoo bottles thrown into my case without care. Clothes balled up and tossed on top. I don’t care. I just want to get out of here.
There is a part of me that feels for him.
Losing your wife – the mother of your children – is undoubtedly traumatic.
I can understand why someone would feel like they’d never get involved with anyone again.
But I still can’t help feeling cheated. Feeling stupid for being hopeful that I might’ve just found someone special.
It has taken me ninety days to finally meet someone. And twenty minutes to lose them.
I take my cases down to the atrium, where a porter loads them onto a trolley for me. It’s jam-packed and noisy, not exactly what I need right now.
‘Time to go!’ Lucas announces, waving me over. He and Cam are dressed in Hawaiian shirts and don’t look at all sad to be going home.
‘Morning,’ I say. ‘Have they put on coffee or anything? I’m exhausted.’
‘I bet you are,’ Lucas says.
Cameron kindly grabs me a cup of coffee from the machine in the middle of the room.
‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘Bit too much booze last night.’ Why is he grinning like that?
‘I thought you’d be chirpier this morning,’ he says, nudging Cameron.
‘Why?’
‘Oh, you know . . . I saw you and Ellis . . . on the deck.’
‘He was spying on you,’ Cameron interjects. ‘For the record, I do not approve.’
‘I wasn’t spying!’ he insists. ‘I was just out on deck, you know, making sure the sea was still there.’
They both stare at me, hungry for my response.
‘It was nothing,’ I reply. ‘Just a silly drunken kiss.’
Lucas frowns. ‘Well, that’s no fun. I was hoping for something a little more salacious.’
‘Sorry to disappoint.’
‘You should take my number,’ Cameron says, while Lucas continues to pout over the lack of gossip he so desperately wanted. ‘If you’re ever in our neck of the woods, you must come and see us.’
‘I might just do that,’ I reply. ‘Put your number in my phone and I’ll message you so you have mine.’
He takes my phone and enters his details. Finally I get someone’s digits.
‘Any sign of the rest of the group?’ I ask, checking around.
‘I saw Brian and Evelyn a while ago,’ Cameron replies. ‘Haven’t seen Dieter or Mia. They’re probably having one last marathon on deck three.’
‘Shame,’ I reply. ‘I’d have liked to say goodbye.’
‘They’ll absolutely be on Facebook,’ he states. ‘Guaranteed. I’ll be adding them later.’
‘And Ellis?’ Lucas asks.
‘Not sure,’ I reply. ‘He’ll be around somewhere.’
My coach to the airport is announced and I give them both a hug. Making my way out, I have one last look for Ellis but to no avail. It doesn’t matter anyway, we’ve already said our goodbyes.