Chapter Seventeen
PRE-PRODUCTION CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
BERNARD EVANS: SECOND STEWARD
BERNARD
Look, I love a flirt, but a boatmance? Never had one, never will. Mark my words.
PRODUCER
You wouldn’t pursue it, if there was someone on board you were attracted to?
BERNARD
From the crew? Not a chance.
PRODUCER
Why is that?
BERNARD
It’s messy, innit? Shitting where you eat.
We’re crammed in together 24/7, stress levels through the roof.
Even if you fancy someone, it’s got disaster written all over it — one likes the other more, someone catches feelings when the other’s just after a shag, you split and then have to act professional? Yeah, right. Like that ever happens.
PRODUCER
Do you think a boatmance can ever make it past the charter season?
Bernard laughs loudly, shakes head.
BERNARD
I’ve never seen a boatmance last a full season, let alone beyond it.
We’re all from different places, working jobs that keep us moving.
Plus, let’s be real — everyone’s young, fit, and up for it.
Trusting your partner to stay faithful on another yacht?
Mate, you’re asking for heartbreak. What do they think is gonna happen?
It’s not like any of us are buying a house with a white picket fence anytime soon.
PRODUCER
So I guess it’s best to just have a little fun and leave it at that, then?
BERNARD
If you want a bit of fun, find a local. But if you actually want a season without drama? Don’t shag the crew. Best bet is to keep it professional.
PRODUCER
And if you don’t?
Bernard shrugs.
BERNARD
Then you’ve only got yourself to blame when it all goes tits up.
“Fucking hell, Leah, that arse deserves a standing ovation!” Bernard said loudly over the music, splashing water at Leah.
She was twerking her ass in the hot tub, hands braced on the edge to keep her steady as she danced.
I hollered, too, marveling at how talented she was at making her booty shake while the rest of her torso was perfectly stable.
She was blessed with juicy curves, and as a more athletic build myself, I was mesmerized watching her move.
Cameron looked ready to propose where he watched her from his corner of the Jacuzzi.
I jokingly reached over and pretended to wipe drool off his chin.
That was when Gisella came running across the teak and all but jumped into the hot tub, joining right in with Leah without missing a beat.
We all cheered, and Palmer leaned back against the edge with his arms spread wide.
“This is what they mean when they talk about the good life.”
It had been a perfect night out — no drama, no one so inebriated they were being an asshole or throwing up or passing out, and most importantly, no thoughts of my dad making me turn into a sad drunk.
Dinner had been filled with great conversation and laughter, and instead of going out to a club, we’d all decided to head back to the boat and enjoy the hot tub we were usually serving the guests in.
Now, it was like a Vegas afterparty. Eli acted as DJ on his portable speaker, playing mostly EDM.
Bernard had whipped up some strong cocktails for each of us — after we took a round of tequila shots, of course — and Finn was throwing together some snacks.
There was dancing and laughter and not a single frown in sight.
“God, I’m starving,” Leah said, a bit breathless after her twerk session as she sank down in the hot water. “Where’s Finn?”
“Finn! Finnn,” Gisella sang, and then Bernard joined in, followed by Cameron, Eli, Palmer, and finally me until we were all calling for him so loudly, I was afraid we’d wake Captain Gary.
Finn eventually appeared in the main salon, visible to us through the glass doors, and we erupted into cheers.
He smirked and shook his head as the doors slid open.
He was balancing two trays of food, everything from grilled paninis and potato chips to pickles and bar nuts.
“Oh, my God, I love you,” Leah proclaimed, snagging a panini with cheese melting over the edges of the crust off one of the trays before Finn even had the chance to set it down. The rest of the crew followed suit as he chuckled.
He acted coy, like it was no big deal that he’d gone to work while the rest of us changed into our swimsuits and continued to fuck off. But I saw it in his eyes, that pride that cooking gave him, that joy he experienced at the sight of someone enjoying what he’d created.
Finn was such a strange type of familiar to me now. I knew so much about him and yet hadn’t a clue what he’d done for the last two years. He’d lived life without me, just as I had without him. There was a separation that could never be undone.
But there was a bond that couldn’t be broken just the same.
I still remembered the first time we met, the first day I knew what it was like to be in a world where Finn Pearson existed.
My duffle bag digs into my shoulder as I make my way through the boat, eyes wide and taking it all in. I pass through the galley on my way to the bridge to greet the captain, and that’s when I see him.
He’s bent over an open drawer, organizing knives by size, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, brown hair curling around the edges of a backward facing hat. I don’t even say a word and yet somehow, he senses me.
He looks up.
Our eyes lock.
The earth shifts beneath my feet when I take in those ocean blues, when a smile curls on his lips.
“Hey there,” he says, straightening to his full height. “You must be a stew.”
I smile back, nerves fluttering. “That obvious?”
“Only ’cause you’re still looking around like this boat is full of gifts for you to open on Christmas morning instead of months of hard work and exhaustion.”
“Guilty. I’m afraid I love this job.”
“Have to, don’t you?”
We share another smile.
“I’m Finn,” he says.
“Ember.”
He cocks his head. “Like a burning ember of flame?”
“Wow. Never heard that one before.” I roll my eyes.
“Fiery. Just like your namesake. And you’ve got the looks to match, too.”
He winks with that, and I snort, stepping past him with a smirk. “Flattery won’t get you out of doing your own dishes when you make a big mess, Chef. And you can cool it on the name play.”
“Mm. If you hate Ember so much, I’ll call you something else.” He leans against the counter, eyes tracing me like he already knows everything about me.
I find I kind of want him to.
“How about Firefly?”
I turn, curious, one hand still gripping the strap of my bag. “Firefly?”
“It suits you better,” he says, that magnetic smile softening. “You light up the room. Can’t help but follow the glow.”
My face flushes when he hits me with a sexy, mischievous grin. That tilt of his lips does something to my belly that feels like an invitation and a warning all at once.
And then he’s back to work and I’m on my way to the bridge.
I have no idea I’ve just met the man who will destroy me by the time the season ends.
“Wait, why aren’t you in your swim trunks?” Gisella asked with a pout, snapping me back to the present.
“Ah, I’ve done my bit. You lot are fed, my work here’s done,” Finn said, nodding to the food. “But I’m knackered. I’m off to bed.”
“You what, mate?!” Bernard asked, aghast.
“Noooo,” Gisella whined.
There was a chorus of shared sentiment from the rest of the crew, protests muffled by mouths full of Finn’s delicious food. I stayed silent, though disappointment sank like an anchor in my gut. I’d barely talked to him all night, and I was sad he wasn’t joining us.
Which is stupid, I reminded myself with an internal groan. I didn’t know why I wanted him to stay. Did I really want to torture myself with watching Gisella hang all over him in the hot tub? Because that was the truth of it — he would be here with her, not me.
I hated that I still had to actively fight so hard against the natural instincts I had with him.
I wanted to spend time with him, talk to him, laugh with him — as if nothing had ever happened, as if we were still the same people we were two years ago.
It was like my brain was planted firmly in the reality of today, but my heart still lived in the past. And my body wasn’t any help.
That traitorous bitch was either absolutely clueless or willfully ignorant.
“Come now, bru, don’t be a chop,” Eli said, picking up the cocktail Bernard had made for Finn that had since sat untouched on the teak rim of the hot tub.
He tried handing it to our chef. “You’re off the clock and there’s a hot tub full of half-naked people begging you to join them. What could be better than that?”
“Sleep, mate. The real luxury in life,” Finn quipped back with a grin, clapping Eli’s wet shoulder and giving it a squeeze.
“Boo,” Cameron jeered playfully. Palmer was the only one keeping quiet about it all, a fellow head of department showing respect, I guessed. It made my own silence feel more reasonable.
“Stay,” Gisella pleaded, catching Finn’s wrist with her bottom lip protruding. “It’ll be fun.”
“I have no doubt it will be, darlin’. You enjoy. I’ll see you in the morning.” He bent down to peck her on the lips, and I dragged my gaze away with acid burning my throat like he was still mine and I was watching him cheat in live time.
“You can’t be that tired,” Gisella tried, still holding onto him when he went to walk away. “And besides, you can sleep in a little in the morning!”
“I’ll need to prep for the next charter.”
“We’ll help!” she said. “Venga, porfa, mi amorrr.”
When batting her lashes didn’t work, she pouted more. Then, she gasped, gaping at him like she’d just realized something very obvious that the rest of us had missed.
“Wait a second… this isn’t because of your silly tattoo, is it?”
“Tattoo?!” Bernard and Leah echoed, jaws popping open.
“Cheffy, let’s see it, then!” Cameron added, devouring the last bite of his panini before he spun his finger in the air.
“Finn doesn’t have any tattoos.”