Chapter 78
Captain Mercer Answers
Nathan opened the email because Marissa asked him to.
That mattered.
Every small choreography mattered now: whose hand moved, who looked first, who had permission to read aloud, who needed silence after each line. They had stumbled into a country where ordinary gestures carried border markings.
The reply was from Dane Mercer.
Subject: Re: Question about Black Lantern Cove.
Nathan began reading silently, but Marissa touched his arm.
"Out loud," she said.
He nodded.
Dane,
Thank you for the honest note. I am glad you made it home with the conversation still open. That matters more than any second booking.
Nathan stopped because his throat did something inconvenient.
Marissa's hand remained on his arm.
He continued.
The Friday overnight route is weather dependent and private.
Departure is usually 6:00 p.m., dinner underway, anchor at Black Lantern if conditions allow, sunrise return.
There is a cabin, upper deck seating, and plenty of room for separate space if needed.
Nothing about booking the route creates any obligation beyond the charter itself.
Marissa's fingers tightened.
Nathan read on.
If you are considering it because you want to recreate last night exactly, I would advise against it. The sea never repeats herself, and neither do people. If you are considering it because both of you want another honest container with clear rules, then we can discuss whether that makes sense.
Nathan looked up.
Marissa's eyes were fixed on the screen.
"He said container," she whispered.
"Very nautical of him."
"That is not nautical."
"I am under stress."
Her smile flickered, then faded as he continued.
My expectations would be simple: you arrive having already discussed hard limits, soft limits, hopes, fears, and the stop word you wrote on the card. Yes, I assumed you wrote it somewhere. Couples who take the rules seriously usually do.
Nathan stared.
Marissa let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
"How did he know?" she asked.
"Captain magic. Terrible SEO, strong clairvoyance."
This time she did laugh, but it shook.
Nathan continued.
I will not be the wedge between you. I will not participate in secrets. I will not reward silence. If either of you wants the fantasy more than the truth, do not book. If both of you can bring the truth with you, I can captain the route.
A long silence followed.
The kitchen seemed to grow larger around them.
There was one final paragraph.
If you want to talk first, call tomorrow after 10:00 a.m. Put me on speaker. Both of you present. No private calls.
Dane.
Nathan lowered his hands from the keyboard.
Marissa sat slowly.
The reply should have cooled the fantasy. In a way, it did. There was nothing reckless in it, nothing sly, nothing designed to pull Marissa away while Nathan watched helplessly from land. Dane had answered with boundaries sharp enough to cut illusion.
And yet Nathan felt more affected than before.
Because the answer had not closed the door.
It had installed a threshold.
Marissa looked at him. "Say something."
"I hate that he is good at this."
She laughed softly. "That is a very honest first reaction."
"I wanted him to be arrogant enough that I could turn him into the villain."
"And?"
"He keeps refusing the role."
Marissa folded her hands on the table, then unfolded them. "Do you trust him?"
Nathan looked at the email again.
Trust was too large a word for a man they had known one night. But there were smaller words that mattered: consistent, direct, careful, unhidden.
"I trust that he understands danger," Nathan said. "I do not trust myself yet to know what to do with that."
Marissa nodded.
"Do you trust him?" he asked.
She took longer.
"I trust that he sees me as a person, not just a temptation," she said. "That makes him more tempting."
The answer hurt exactly because it was careful.
Nathan reached for her hand.
"Thank you."
She looked at their joined hands. "Tomorrow after ten."
"We do not have to call."
"No."
"But we can."
"Yes."
They read the email three more times before closing the laptop.
When Nathan carried the dishes to the sink, he caught his reflection in the dark kitchen window. Behind him, Marissa sat at the table beneath the warm light, the captain's card before her, the word ANCHOR hidden against the wood.
He looked like a man standing on shore while the tide came in.
For the first time, he did not step back.