Chapter Five
Zoe
I swear I'm still in a little bit of a fog thanks to yesterday’s bombshell news.
Today is the last day of the cruise and I am determined not to think about Jake at all. The Jake who's now in jail. The Jake who can't hurt me anymore. The Jake who thought that I would just cut my trip short and come home to bail him out after he landed himself in trouble. I don't even care what he did to wind up in jail. I'm comforted by the fact that he's not my problem anymore and it's not my responsibility to save him.
There's something so freeing about that realization.
I'm determined to enjoy myself today and have fun. And I already have a plan - I’m going to spend the day with Damien.
I close my eyes for a moment and remember the way his gaze locked on me over drinks as we sat at the bar together. I had asked him what his plans for our last day on the cruise were, thinking he’d have some events lined up and planned out to really capture the magic for that final run. I imagined he'd want to catch up on everything he felt he missed while working through the first part of the journey.
I had been surprised when he told me that his plans were variable and dependent on me.
At first, I tried to puzzle out what he meant, but I couldn’t decode his meaning, so I asked.
The corners of his lips had curved ever so slightly as he said, “The planned day for us, if you're interested, is in spending it with me.”
How could I say no? Even if I wasn't interested, how could I say no? And, of course, I was very, very interested.
There's just something about him that draws me in, and I crave more of him. I want more of his time, more of his attention, more of his affection.
Even now, as I think about the look on his face and the soft words crossing his lips, my heart beats faster behind my ribs.
I'm excited. There's no way around that truth. I'm excited to spend the day with him, and I shouldn't be. Given that my previous ex-boyfriend is behind bars and my terrible track record with men, I should be absolutely terrified right now. But I'm not.
Instead, I stare at myself in the mirror, tortured by the enough-isms.
Am I pretty enough?
Am I dressed well enough?
Am I interesting enough?
Am I enough to keep his attention?
I know I am so stressed out by all of these questions. Jake would never have planned a date for us, let alone a whole day. And even though I'm not certain that Damien and I are actually dating, I do enjoy the time I spend with him and the fact that he's willing to put in this much effort for someone who he will probably never see again leaves me breathless.
The thought of never seeing him again makes me sad. Even now, standing in front of the mirror, I wonder if this spark between us could become something that lasts. I think about how I’d been the center of his attention yesterday, how he’d talked me through the stress, fear, and even guilt I felt at Jake being locked up, and the way he’d gently reminded me that the police don’t lock people up for no reason. I smile at myself in the mirror.
He hadn't only been kind and thoughtful. He'd been comforting. He'd talked me through a very tough moment when I wondered if I should go bail Jake out. But Damien was right that I shouldn’t. And my friends confirmed as much when I got back by reminding me that Jake cheated on me. They’d gone so far as to ask me why his new woman wasn’t bailing him out? Why was he asking me to help him? Why is he my responsibility?
Sure, those words had been hard to hear, but they absolutely drove the point home.
The new woman in Jake's life can go bail him out because I'm not going to. Not my circus, not my monkeys , as Ben had said last night when we were talking about the news of Jake’s arrest. Of course, they’d wanted to know what happened, so I looked up the charges.
I’d nearly had a heart attack when I’d seen the domestic violence and battery charges and that there was an active warrant out for his arrest because he’d run across state lines to escape jail. Knowing that I’m not the first woman he’s been awful to and that things could have escalated so badly leaves me both grateful and scared I got away from him. And to be honest, I’m a little worried about the other woman in his life. I’m glad he’s locked up and can’t hurt anyone else.
“What you doing in here?” Cass asks, walking into the restroom with me and giving me a quick hug.
I don’t want to tell her I'm trying to build up my courage for today. “I'm getting ready.” I hadn't told them that Damien had planned an entire day for us. I had told them that he wanted to spend time with me though.
Cass sits down on the edge of the tub with a smile on her face. “So, are you going to get his number and see him after we all go home?”
She's asking a question I've asked myself a million times. Strange that I'm no closer to any answer now than I was the first time I asked.
“I'm not sure.” What if we're not actually compatible in one another's lives? Everybody's a different person on vacation, especially when that vacation is so far away from home. Besides, I don't know that he's looking for anything serious.
“I think you should.” Cass grabs the hairbrush and begins to try to tame her wild red curls as I glance at her reflection in the mirror. “We all do.”
The fact that she and all my other friends think it's a good decision makes me wonder if I'm being silly by being so unsure. I can't get him out of my mind. I even dreamed about him last night.
In my dreams, he helps me, protects me, and makes me feel more alive than I can ever remember feeling. But those are just dreams, and my brain might be playing tricks on me. There's every chance that in the real world we won't be compatible with one another. I also can’t help but wonder about the conversation we’d been having before I got that call – the one about someone being murdered at his work… or so he thinks. I really do want to solve that mystery, but mostly, I want to enjoy myself.
“I guess I should get going.” I take one more look at myself in the mirror, then focus on Cass behind me as she struggles with a tangle in her long red hair. She smiles at me.
“You deserve to have fun,” she says softly as she pauses mid-stroke. “So don’t doubt yourself. Just go with it and have fun.”
I take her words to heart, feeling them and assimilating them until I can nod, accepting them with all my heart. “I’ll do my best,” I say.
“You better.” She stands up and gives me a quick hug.
I squeeze her shoulders, feeling loved and important. When we let go, I slip out of the bathroom and tiptoe through the cabin as Ben and Amy snooze like the night owls they are. When I’m outside the door, my heart kicks into overdrive and I take a deep breath to calm myself.
Plastering a smile on my face, I make my way to the bar where we'd agreed to meet. By the time I get there, he's already ordered me a mimosa, and he's waiting with the drink in one hand and a smile on his face. “I can't promise it's not too early to start drinking,” he says, that charming grin of his widening.
“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. It can be our little secret,” I say as I take the drink from him and have a sip.
He chuckles. “Once you’re done with that, we can get our day started.”
“This is the best way to start my day. I’m that woman. Not a dessert-themed iced coffee first thing in the morning, but a drink instead.” I laugh. “But only while I’m on vacation,” I add, hoping he doesn’t judge me. Maybe I deserve to be judged, but I really don’t drink that much.
He leans in. “It’ll be our secret,” he says softly with a wink.
I quickly finish my drink and, feeling a tiny bit tipsy, let him lead me out. As we walk, the alcohol seems to burn off, leaving me feeling clear headed, but still with that fun, loose feeling.
He guides me toward the rec room with the sound of hollow balls hitting tables and paddles giving me an idea what we’re going to do next. As he takes my arm and leads me toward a table, I find myself excited for what's going to happen next. I haven't played table tennis since I was a teenager who frequented the local arcade and played table tennis, air hockey, and pool. Those are good memories. Good memories that I haven't relived in far too long.
I can't help but think how strange it is that he seems so cold and arrogant toward other people, but with me, he's amazing. As he hands me a paddle, I catch how he flips his effortlessly with one hand and catches it by the handle.
I can’t help but think I’m in trouble...
“Rut-ro,” I say in my best Scooby Doo impression.
He smiles, offering me a ball before getting into position. And the world around us, all of the noise, all of the people, the sounds, fade away as I focus on him. I drop the ball on the table and try to hit it with the paddle, completely missing on the first try as the ball bounces toward the net. I can't help but laugh at myself as he watches.
Trying again, I manage to hit the ball and regain my confidence as he volleys it back. I hit and watch the little orange ball sail over the net, landing in the middle of the table on his side. He swats it back, his gaze on me, not the ball, and I realize I’m having fun.
I can't help but wonder if he's good at everything he does. But instead of making me feel bad about being rusty and out of practice, he just plays. We’re not competing; we’re just having fun. And as I hit the ball and it sails past him, touching the edge of the table before bouncing to the ground, I realize I got a point and do a little happy dance. I don’t care about winning, but I am proud to have gotten a point.
“Good job!” he says, but instead of an upbeat tone, he speaks in a low growl that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up - in a good way - and a shiver sneak down my spine. I stop and stare at him, every nerve in my body lighting up. I’d give anything to hear him say those words again, and I begin to play like my life depends on it.
Time slips by in the blink of an eye, and I realize it's time for us to move on. Even though he definitely won, he doesn't rub it in my face or make me feel bad or inferior like Jake would do. Instead, he’s a gracious winner who downplays his win and focuses on the fun we both had. And I love that about him.
He’s amazing. There’s no other way to describe him.
He makes me feel good about myself, our time together, and my actions. I feel like an equal, like I’m important, like he cares.
“What’s next?” I ask as we leave the rec room and head toward the kitchens.
He smiles down at me. “Do you want me to ruin the surprise?”
I think about it for a moment, wondering if I'd rather be surprised or know what I'm getting into. Shockingly, I settle on letting him surprise me. At least until we walk into the kitchens and I see the signage displaying “Make Your Own Pizza!”
I glance up at him with a sly grin. “This is going to be one of those moments that makes or breaks us.” I say the words, not because we'll be working together to make pizza, but because this is going to be a battle of the ages or a bonding moment. Or he’ll think I’m crazy. And maybe I am, who knows?
As we wait for the final people to arrive, we talk.
“Are you ready to get back to work?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not really. I’m having a good time.” The way he holds my stare and says the word saves me, blushing and wondering if I'm part of the reason he’s enjoying himself. That thought leaves me feeling warm and fuzzy.
The final few people trickle in and the class starts, but we're talking back and forth instead of listening.
“I love my job, but this vacation is exactly what I needed,” I confide in him.
“I hate my job, but this vacation is exactly what I needed.”
I feel bad for him. I can't imagine hating my job and having to do it day in and day out ad nauseam until I die. The teacher is showing us how to knead the dough and roll the crust out, and I’ve got this activity in the bag. So does he, and we’re smiling that my pizza is oval shaped instead of perfectly round. I inform him that I'm not interested in perfection, and he tells me he admires that quality in me as we ladle out the freshly-made sauce and spread it on the dough.
He accidentally dips a knuckle into red sauce as he reaches past my pizza for an alfredo sauce, pauses, and then lifts his hand and touches the red-stained knuckle to the tip of my nose. I laugh, until he leans in and kisses the spot, his warm mouth sending a shockwave of tingles throughout my entire body.
Two can play that game. I grab his hand and bring the offending knuckle to my mouth, watching fire ignite in his eyes as he studies my face. The fun, flirty feeling of the moment washes away into something deeper, darker, and more animalistic as my tongue scrubs his knuckle clean of the thick, red, tomato sauce. I taste the depth of flavors, rosemary, basil, salt, the rich fresh taste of tomato and pepper. But I also taste him, warm, delicious, mouthwatering.
I break the spell as I let him go and reach for the cheese. For a moment I can't look at him as I try to process what just transpired between us. I have far too many feelings for someone I barely know.
I watch him add alfredo sauce to his dough before sprinkling provolone and feta, but I can’t look him in the eyes. Instead, I focus on adding cheddar cheese to my pie before delicately placing ham on the whole pizza. He adds spinach to his, and I take some thinly-sliced jalapenos and sparingly sprinkle them before reaching for the pineapple. He stops all movement and stares at me, and I covertly meet his incredulous glance, noticing the disbelief and amusement in his eyes.
“Pineapple on pizza?” He sounds stunned... and playful.
“Yes, pineapple on pizza,” I say in my most matter-of-fact tone.
He shakes his head with a smile. “It’s official; you’re crazy,” he says, but I hear the affection in his tone.
“Or maybe you’re boring.” I’m just teasing, and he chuckles before leaning in.
My heart skips a beat as I realize he’s about to kiss me. I'd swear every bit of oxygen is sucked out of the room and I can’t catch my breath as he moves closer, his gaze locked on mine as his lips part.
I close my eyes, waiting for the kiss, only for him to whisper in my ear instead. “I guess we have another secret.”
And I feel stupid, realizing he never intended to kiss me at all. He was just leaning in to speak softly, as if we’re sharing an actual secret. So why do I feel so disappointed?
Because I wanted him to kiss me.
The answer is so obvious, but I don't want to face facts. I guess I didn't learn my lesson at all from Jake. I need to take things slow, guard my heart, and try not to get hurt again. Besides, isn't this a rebound relationship? Those never work out. I’m being silly.
I continue to berate myself as we finish up our pizzas and slip them into the oven. He's being fun and flirty and helpful, but my mood seems to have taken a nosedive... until I remind myself I’m supposed to be having fun.
I want to be happy in the present with him. Not worrying about my past or Jake or wondering what the future holds.
When our pizzas are done, we cut them up, put them on platters and take them out to the dining area. We sit and talk about life.
“What do you do for fun?” I ask, taking a seat.
He gives me a sideways glance. “Fun? Never heard of it.”
I giggle.
“I used to do things for fun, but now I'm too busy.” As he says the words, my heart goes out to him, but I completely understand what he means. Being an adult is very busy and very tiring. Sometimes I wonder if hobbies are just for children and teenagers.
“This,” he says, gesturing around us, “is the most fun I’ve had in years. And I’m only here because I was forced to take some time off.”
“Forced to take time off and you still worked most of the time. You’re terrible at this,” I say, picking up a piece of my ham, pineapple, jalapeno pizza. He places a slice of his spinach and feta cheese pizza on my plate and smiles at me.
“Brutally honest. I like that. And I like you.”
My heart slams in my chest as I take a bite of my screaming hot pizza, nearly burning off every taste bud I have as I suck cool air in and move the food around quickly to keep from giving myself third-degree tongue and cheek burns.
“I like you too,” I say when I finally manage to - hopefully discreetly - pelican down the bite of too-hot food. Given the way he's watching me, I have no doubt he watched my struggle and knows exactly what I was doing.
“You’re adorable,” he says.