Chapter Thirty-One
POST-PRODUCTION CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
EMBER REED: CHIEF STEW
PRODUCER
Well, I think that’s all we need for now, Ember. We want to thank you again for coming in for some bonus footage and commentary. We know the season wasn’t what you expected. We appreciate you being so open.
Ember laughs, stands.
EMBER
I don’t think I had a choice with that whole open part.
PRODUCER
Is there anything else you want to say before you take your mic off for the last time? Anything you really want the viewers to know about you?
Ember pauses, smiles.
EMBER
There’s nothing I can say to make them change their minds about me, and that’s okay. Because I know who I am. I know my intentions. I know my truth. And that’s enough for me.
PRODUCER
What about your father?
Ember looks directly into camera.
EMBER
I love you, Dad. You raised me to be a strong, independent, intelligent woman. Thank you for instilling bravery in me, for always reminding me I can do hard things, and for passing on a little of your stubbornness, too.
PRODUCER
That’s it?
Ember smiles, begins removing microphone.
EMBER
What else is there to say?
Four days later, I laid in my bunk with Finn, covers kicked to our feet and limbs tangled into a pretzel.
Gisella was already on deck for the early shift — not that I would have cared much at this point — and we had a few minutes before Finn needed to get started on breakfast for the guests and I’d go help Leah with service.
I didn’t care that the stationary camera in the corner of my cabin was catching our every move on film, either.
It was the last day of our last charter.
We’d fucking made it.
The Successful Six had left with big smiles, a big thank you for all we’d done, and a big tip — not from Tammy, but from Maria.
Tammy had left less than twenty percent, despite the fact that we did all in our power to give her group everything they wanted.
But she was upset about the chaotic night and how it detracted from her vibes.
She was particularly pissed that the wind swept away her Hermès scarf.
Damn us for not controlling the wind.
But after Tammy and the rest of the guests disembarked, Maria handed Captain Gary another envelope with a soft smile. He tried to assure her it wasn’t necessary, but she’d insisted. Then, she’d grabbed both of my hands in hers and thanked me, sincerely.
And I hadn’t been able to help myself.
“These people are not your friends,” I’d said as quietly as I could, though I knew Leah heard me. She was right next to me, and I noticed her tense a little at my next words. “Life is too short to spend it with people who treat you poorly, especially when you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
Maria had squeezed my hands. “I know you’re right. It’s just… hard to let go of the group I always wanted to fit in with.”
“Maybe you were born to stand out.”
She’d winked at that, giving me one last hug before she was gone.
Then, the final charter had been rowdy but otherwise uneventful — a bachelor party for a Texas paper mill owner getting married for the fifth time.
The guys drank more than a fraternity, and poor Leah was likely scarred from cleaning their cabins, but they ate what we gave them with pure delight and didn’t ask for any frills with their events.
They just wanted to party in Italy, smoke cigars, drink a gallon of whiskey each per day, and bake in the sun.
Now, I laid with my head on Finn’s chest, smiling a little against the warm skin as I traced the firefly tattoo on his ribs.
By one, the guests would be gone. By eight, the boat would be clean.
And by this time tomorrow morning, we’d both have our bags packed and be the first ones off this damn boat.
We had one more crew night out obligation and then we were free.
And unlike two years ago when we were ending a yacht season, there wasn’t an ounce of fear or anger in me this time. There was no confusion, no concern for what the future might hold.
Because I knew we were in it together.
“What was the restaurant like?”
Finn inhaled, his chest rising and falling with my head on it while he rubbed my shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what was it like? How was it decorated, what was the food, what was the ambiance? What was your favorite thing about it?”
“A very layered question, I see.”
I leaned up, balancing my chin on my hands where they splayed his chest. “I want to know.”
Finn stared up at the bottom of Gisella’s bunk for a long moment, his brows pinched in concentration. “It was warm,” he finally said. “Cozy. Like stepping into a small pub in your hometown while the snow is coming down.”
I smiled. “That sounds nice.”
“It was all wood and candles and low-lit chandeliers. Everything was repurposed or thrifted, so none of the tables or chairs matched. But it worked somehow.” The corner of his lips lifted. “Reminded me of Gran’s.”
“Well, that was the point, wasn’t it?”
He nodded, his brows folding together again. “Breaks me heart, the way I trusted that bastard who killed me in the end. Gutted, I was. It hurt more than I can say, to put all that work into the restaurant that honored my gran only to have it stolen from me.”
“That’s his karma,” I said. “Not yours, okay? And maybe it was a sign from the universe. Maybe there’s an even better place out there. Maybe your gran knew something you didn’t and was… I don’t know, pulling strings from above.”
I laughed a little as I said it, not sure what I believed when it came to what happened to us after death. But Finn smiled at the story I’d painted.
“Maybe she knew, somehow, that leaving would be what brought me back to you.”
I bent down and kissed him for that one. “What was your favorite dish on the menu?”
“Easy. The beef and Guinness stew with colcannon.” Finn groaned and rubbed his stomach.
“My sous helped me perfect the recipe. I brought in what I had from Gran, of course, but he added in some unexpected ingredients — gruyere cheese melted on top of the stew, roasted bits of pear in the potatoes. It shouldn’t have made sense, but it did. Felt like home in a dish.”
My eyes searched his, stomach tightening. “I wish I could have seen it, Finn. I wish I would have been there.”
“You’re here now,” he said, his lips finding mine. “You get to watch me stumble into the next disaster.”
I laughed. “Do you know what that will be?”
“Not quite,” he confessed. “But… I’ve a notion.”
“Care to share?”
“Not yet.”
I pouted, but he dug his fingers into my ribs until I laughed and squealed and rolled onto my back. Then, it was him over me, his hand brushing my hair out of my face as he looked down in reverence. “I’m sad I missed out on these two years of your life, too, you know.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t miss much. Just more of this.” My hands swept out toward the boat.
“You’ve been building your dream,” he countered.
“I saw it the first day we were on board. You were a great stew two years ago, but now?” He shook his head.
“I can see it, Ember. I understand why you love it so much. It… it just seems effortless from the outside. It seems like you’re really in your element. ”
My chest squeezed. “It means a lot to me that you see it the way I do, that you don’t think I’m… I don’t know. Wasting my intelligence by serving others.”
“It takes an incredible human being to provide hospitality with a smile the way you do. It’s not just service; though, you’re excellent at that.
” He paused. “It’s an art form. Truly. Cabins, interior, experience, service.
It’s like this meticulous dance, and you move with such grace that it looks easy when I know for a fact that it is not. ”
“Are you trying to get laid?” I asked, fingers tangling in his hair and pulling his mouth to mine. “Because it’s working.”
He laughed against my lips. “No time for that now, love.”
“The engine room would beg to differ.”
“Aye, well, I’ll not be rushing things the next time I get to touch you.” He spanked the side of my ass, checking the time on his watch before his eyes found me again. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you want after we leave this show behind us?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “If you would have asked me that even two weeks ago, I would have said all I wanted was for my father to watch the show and realize I’m making something of myself, that I’m a daughter he can be proud of.
But now?” I shook my head. “I think I’ve realized that approval will never come, and I’m okay with that.
Because this season has shown me that I’m enough for myself.
It’s my life to live — not my father’s. I love this career.
I love traveling and meeting interesting people and living the yacht life.
At least for now,” I added with a shrug.
“Who knows what the future will hold. Maybe I’ll end up running a chic restaurant with the best chef in the world. ”
I said that last part jokingly, but a part of me tingled with excitement at the thought.
It was no secret that I loved dinner service — it was by far my favorite part of running a yacht as chief stew.
Part of me wondered if I’d enjoy crafting the experience of a restaurant with Finn, if he’d ever see me as a partner.
What could we build together, now that we weren’t being young and stupid?
The clink of silverware against porcelain was the only sound in the quiet restaurant that night as Captain Gary stood at the head of the long table, champagne flute raised.
A slow smile pulled at his sun-wrinkled face as he swept his gaze over the crew — each of us in our civilian clothes, relaxed and glowing under the warm twinkle of string lights overhead.