Chapter 42
CHAPTER 42
“ D on’t scream,” a deep voice grunts, and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light in this corner of the promenade deck. It’s protected by an alcove from the elements and houses one of the ship’s many hidden hot tubs, which just so happens to be void of people but gives the space an ethereal blue glow nonetheless.
I yank my arm free and give a few hard blinks before a frumpy bald man comes into focus.
“ Stanton! ” I swat him on the stomach and his tie swings like a pendulum. “You nearly caused your own death.”
He straightens. “So it’s true what they say. You’re a serial killer.”
“I’m not a serial anything. Thankfully, I’ve somehow garnered the power to walk away from a situation—just like I did from you. Now what do you want? Are you drunk again?”
“No. I haven’t had a drop of whiskey since the other night.” He bows his head a moment and sighs. “I have something to say to you.”
He clams up, and it feels like an hour glides by.
I glance out at the party raging away on the promenade deck where the laughter of guests, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the sway of the band playing a cover of “Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones lights up the night .
Everything seems perfect, too perfect, and yet here I am killing time with the man who is lucky I haven’t sicced the Grim Reaper on him for all the misery he’s put me through. Although in a twisted way, I’m thankful for every ounce of misery because it led me to where I’ve always belonged, right here on the Emerald Queen . Life is funny that way.
“What is it, Stanton?” I ask with my voice softer this time.
“Trixie…” He’s breathing hard and his voice cracks as he says my name. His eyes are desperate, like a man who’s been away from his favorite whiskey bottle for far too long. He’s got that disheveled look he’s been sporting lately, with his tie askew and his suit rumpled as if he got into a bar fight. “I need you to listen to me.”
“You’re not the sharpest tool, are you? What do you think I’m doing? And would you speed it up? I’ve got a donut back there with my name on it. And if you’re here to lecture me about eating my weight in carbs, or to threaten me with high triglycerides, then you’re wasting your time.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” he cuts in, almost frantic. “I don’t care about anything you’ve done since we’ve been apart.” He steps in close. “Trixie, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch you with him. I’m begging you, please. I love you, Trixie. I always have. I know I messed up. I know I’m an idiot?—”
And then—much to my horror—he drops to his knees. Right here on the deck, next to the bubbling hot tub filling this alcove. He looks up at me, his eyes pleading and slightly bloodshot. He picks up my hands and yanks me close.
“Don’t do it, Trixie,” he continues in a panic. “Please, just give me another chance. I’ll do anything. I’ll change. I’ll be better. Just… just don’t marry him. Don’t marry the buffoon. Marry me! You’ve already got the wedding venue. I’ve got a suit. And the kids will be there tomorrow. What do you say? It’ll be you and me, just like old times.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Stanton, would you get up? You’re embarrassing yourself.” I swat him on the shoulder until he does just that. “Didn’t you do this the last time you were on a cruise with me? Is this going to be some sort of a twisted tradition every time we venture out onto the high seas? Which is sort of an irony, if you think about it. We were supposed to be going on our very first cruise together just under a year ago for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and you botched it by filling up our bedroom with a bunch of naked women.” My voice hikes, but honestly, it’s only because the music is so loud. I’m long past feeling any anger over the situation.
“It was your fault for coming home early,” he shouts back and I roll my eyes. “All right, I know how that sounds. It’s all my fault. I loused everything up.” He rakes his fingers over his head. “But you’re getting married, Trixie,” he says it as if it were incredulous. “ Marriage is forever .”
I tip my head his way and frown.
“Okay, so marriage is what you make of it.” He sighs. “And I made a pretty good mess, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.” I blow out a hard breath. “Stanton, our marriage was over before that day I caught you. Unbeknownst to me, you were sleeping around behind my back for who knows how long. You slept with Merritt, for Pete’s sake!” I shout those last words.
“Hey, that was her doing,” he says sternly. “She didn’t really give me a say in the matter.”
I dip my chin and give him a stern look for even going there.
“All right, all right.” He raises his hands. “So, I wasn’t perfect. Who is? So, what do you say? One more time with your real Mr. Right?” He hitches both thumbs at his chest and offers a dark smile.
“I’m sorry, Stanton. But I think this has more to do with your ego than any intention your heart may have. And my heart has its own intentions, too. And they’re not with you.”
His head falls fast, and soon he’s looking at the ground.
“But they were once,” I say sweetly. “Stanton, I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t feel as if you were the one. But after you proposed, I felt we boarded some sort of a roller coaster. Our wedding day was a jumble of nerves. I felt as if we were doing what came next. I felt as if I was going through all the right motions. Stanton, we were going through the motions together. Yes, we loved each other, but not in the right way. And then last January, I jumped off the roller coaster. And you know what? I felt steady as if both of my feet were on the ground for the very first time. Those twenty-five years did see a lot of good, too. And even though they’re over, it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. We have Abbey and Parker—they will always bind us together. And one day we’ll share grandchildren, too. We’re never really going to be out of one another’s lives.”
“You mean it?” His eyes connect with mine, and I can feel his intensity, his utter fear of change.
“I mean it. You can’t get rid of me. In fact, if it makes you feel better, I’ll even go to your funeral one day, too.”
We share a mournful laugh.
“You know”—he starts—“rumor has it, you can control when those things happen.”
“Then you had better stay on my good side,” I warn.
“Hey, I haven’t always been on your good side. I guess you want to keep me around.”
“I’ve always been a glutton for punishment.”
The clip-clop of heels speeds this way.
“Here you are,” Neelie trills as she grabs Stanton by the arm. “They’re having a wet T-shirt contest up top, and I need you to vote for me. Winner gets a one-hundred-dollar gift card to the Queen’s Mall! As soon as I heard the word mall , I knew I was in.”
“I’m always here to support you, babe.” He waves as they leave. “Good talk, Trix. If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll get my suit ironed out.”
Good grief.
I head to the Blue Water Café and nearly crash right into the most handsome man I have ever met—my future husband.
“Ransom, you’re done early,” I say, wrapping my arms around him.
“I couldn’t wait to see you again.” His cheek rises on one side. “Less than twenty-four hours. Are you ready to do this?”
“I feel as if I’ve been waiting my whole life.”
We indulge in one molten hot kiss, then indulge in enough molten hot chocolate lava cake to put us both in a sugar coma.
Next stop—the altar.