Chapter 15
LORENZO
Iconsidered something quiet and romantic for this evening, something for just the two of us, but after talking with Violet, keeping things more casual seems prudent so my actions don’t make promises I’m not yet prepared to uphold.
After scouring the resort’s options, this sunset cruise seems like the perfect activity.
A way for Abigail and me to have fun, play at being a couple, and touch and caress each other.
And maybe tease a little deeper, my heart begs. I want to see if there’s a chance this could be more.
Violet has made my heart and mind at odds with my past and my future. But I’m focusing on the present. Forcefully.
We only have this evening left. Tomorrow, we will be beyond busy with the rehearsal dinner, and Saturday, with the wedding. And then we fly out Sunday afternoon to go home.
And then what?
For the first time ever, the fact that I don’t know and have zero plans feels empty and meaningless, not exciting and full of possibility.
“Absolutely not.” Abigail sounds like there is no budging her, zero chance of changing her mind as she sits on the couch with her feet curled up underneath her.
I like a challenge.
“Mia rosa, you spent the entire afternoon in the cooler. Your fingers and toes are purple, and there is nothing more that you can do to prepare.”
I know I’m right because I confirmed with Janey. After their additional shoot in the Azure Ballroom, Abigail and Janey moved their flowers back into the cooler, which has thankfully held up. Hours later, Janey assures me that they are right on schedule for this weekend.
And so am I.
“And you have to eat, so why not do so somewhere beautiful? I promise to have you back home and in bed at a reasonable hour. I know we’ll need a good night’s sleep to hit the floor running tomorrow.” Such an American expression—they are always running somewhere.
Not that I’m one to talk.
“A very reasonable hour?” she clarifies. I nod, and I can see her weighing the options. “What do I wear to this thing?” she asks, and though she hasn’t said yes, I know I’ve won.
“Sundress and a bikini,” I say as I pull her off the couch and push her toward the bedroom. “Janey’s coming too.”
At that, Abi does a wiggly dance of happiness and gets moving a little faster. I even hear her let out a whoop of excitement that makes me smile. She’s so easy to please, so eager for any adventure.
I lead the ladies out of the resort, following signs directing us to the resort’s dock. The boat is already loading passengers. In fact, we seem to be some of the last people to board.
It’s not really a cruise ship, and I’ve actually been on yachts that are bigger, but those belonged to billionaires who hired me to cook.
But it’s well-maintained and painted crisp white with blue hand lettering on the bow proclaiming it ‘B-Yacht-ch’.
Based on that name alone, I think we’re going to have a great time.
“Come on,” Abigail tells me, pulling at my hand now with a big smile. Janey waves her fingers at us with a knowing look. “I know it’s geeky and old and stupid, but I have to.” I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I find myself running along with her, chasing that smile.
She leads me to the bow of the main deck, gets up on the railing, and throws her arms wide. She might not be yelling out, but there’s no doubt who she’s imitating as we pull away from the dock.
I can’t help but laugh at her infectious exuberance. People are watching, some with smiles and some with raised brows, but Abigail cares nothing about either group. She’s simply doing what she wants, as always, and everyone else be damned.
“I’m the Queen of the world!” she shouts into the wind. “I’m flying!”
I put my hands on her waist to steady her, loving the feeling of her curves beneath my palms. I lean forward to press my back to her front and rumble in her ear, “Don’t expect me to sing Celine Dion for you. But if you want me to sketch you naked later, I’m happy to pretend I can draw.”
She laughs, looking over her shoulder at me, and I know this cruise is exactly what we needed. Now that we’ve pulled away from the dock and waved to the fishermen coming in from their day’s work, Abigail steps down from her perch.
“What is there to do aboard?”
“Yoo-hoo!” a voice calls out, and I groan.
No fucking way. But yes, there they are.
“I thought that was you, Abi. I was afraid you were ending it all by throwing yourself overboard.” Emily laughs as though that’s a funny joke, but there’s an actual thread of disappointment.
Emily is wearing another white bikini top, a sheer white coverup, and frayed white denim shorts. My guess is that her entire suitcase is full of bridal white since it’s her honeymoon.
Doug has on a salmon-colored polo with the collar popped, khaki shorts, and boat shoes.
They’re the picture of the upper-crust yacht crowd.
“Hey, Lorenzo. Good to see you,” Doug says with an offered hand.
We shake and then the awkward silence stretches longer and longer. A waiter walks by with a tray of wine and beer, and Abigail practically dives for it. Taking a white wine, she grabs a beer for me, and I watch with an internal eye roll as Emily does the same.
Maybe Emily just likes white wine, or maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to risk spilling the red on her white outfit, but I’m pretty sure that if Abi had grabbed a beer and chugged it in one go, Emily would try to do the same.
Hmm, that might be a fun theory to test.
“So, what’s up first?” Emily asks as she drains her first wine. “I was thinking a little gambling.”
We end up at blackjack after a little bit of debate.
At first, Emily wanted to play Texas Hold ’Em, but Doug and I were dead set against that.
Hold ’Em has players going against each other, and I don’t want to give Emily and Abigail a reason to get pissy with each other.
Though I can’t be certain of his reasons, Doug was equally against Hold ’Em and had the suggestion of blackjack, a much better option for our ladies.
Because blackjack’s against the dealer. Everyone can win, and everyone can lose. So we find a table, and pretty soon, we’ve all got our pile of chips, a thousand dollars each.
To Emily and Doug, it’s probably pocket change. To Abigail’s family, it’s pocket change. To me, that’s a big investment, and I wonder if I’ll need to call Violet for a little ‘help’ here if we lose.
But the thing is . . . we don’t lose.
I’ve played before, but I get on a lucky streak like I’ve never seen before.
I keep playing smartly, not letting my greed get ahead of my head to make the most of my hot streak.
When I finally take a moment to count my chip pile after hitting it big with an ace-queen blackjack, I’ve got fifty-seven hundred dollars.
That’s nearly six month’s rent in some places.
Hell, it’s a year’s living expenses in others.
I could take this windfall and go so many places, virtually anywhere I’d like to experience.
Knowing what opportunities this pile can hold, I quit playing and simply watch the others.
Abigail loses two hundred from her thousand, while Emily and Doug stay around the break-even point.
I’m glad when they agree that they’ve had enough and are ready to move on to something else.
“So what’s waiting for you when you guys get back?” Emily asks us as she snags another wine.
Abigail doesn’t mirror Emily, though, and grabs a water with lime this time. I’m sure she’s being responsible and thinking about tomorrow when we have early morning wake-up calls to get to work for the rehearsal.
“The flower shop for me,” Abigail shares. “I just made my last loan payment, so now it’s time to see how I can maybe expand. The hope is to one day really write my own ticket. Like how Violet does.”
“Ah, yes, Violet. She’s your cousin, Lorenzo, right?”
I nod agreeably. “Well, widely separated. Italians don’t have a phrase for just how far apart our branches of the family tree are. Everyone is simply family.”
Before anyone can respond, a disembodied voice on the PA system announces, “All right, everyone . . . report to the top deck in ten minutes because we’ve got a good time in store for you.”
The voice is corny, like a 1950s television host, but people do start to move that way. Emily rolls her eyes dramatically as she snarks, “Cheese alert.”
“Shall we?” I ask Abigail, and she beams.
“Let’s do it!”
The top deck of the ship’s been turned into a dance club complete with lights, lasers, and bass-heavy music. I want to dance with Abigail, hold her in my arms and sway with her. Not for sex this time but just to feel her energy.
“All right, cool cats and kittens . . . everyone on the floor. Now’s your chance to win a helicopter tour of the island. How, you ask?” Nobody did, but people are definitely listening to the announcer now. “Our B-yacht-ch nightly dance contest!”
“What do you think?” I ask Abigail.
She bites her lip, looking uncertain. “I’m not really a great dancer. I like to dance, do Zumba with Courtney sometimes when she makes me, but my head-ass connection doesn’t seem to work as well as other women’s. They twerk. I look like I’m having a seizure.”
“I’m sure you look beautiful,” I say encouragingly. “And we danced at Courtney’s wedding. You did well, very well.”
She laughs. “Yeah, that was some slow dance swaying, but never fear, you’ll see what you’ve gotten yourself into.” Even as she puts herself down, she grins as though she can’t wait to show me just how bad of a dancer she is.
We take to the floor, and I grab her hand, twirling her in a circle around me. She prances with nervous eyes locked on me for cues.
The rules are explained, and it’s pretty simple. Keep dancing until one of the judges touches you on the shoulder. If you’re tapped out, there are chairs around the deck where you can sit and cheer for your favorite contestants.