Chapter 86
At the Helm
Dane invited Marissa to steer after dinner.
Nathan felt the invitation before he understood it. A shift in Dane's posture at the helm. A glance toward the open water ahead. A question forming in the space between them.
"Have you ever taken the wheel?" Dane asked her.
Marissa laughed. "Of a boat? No."
"Want to?"
Her eyes went immediately to Nathan.
That was new too.
On the first charter, her glances toward him had asked whether he noticed, whether he objected, whether he would retreat into wounded silence and make her carry the guilt for both of them. Tonight the question was cleaner.
Would you like to see me try?
Nathan felt the old reflex rise: a tightening, a wish to step in with a joke, a way to turn the moment harmless.
Instead he said, "Yes."
Marissa's mouth parted slightly.
Dane's gaze moved between them once, measuring, then he stepped aside from the helm.
"Come here," he said.
She did.
Nathan followed but stopped several feet back, close enough to hear, far enough that the scene formed without him at its center. Dane positioned Marissa behind the wheel, one hand hovering near the throttle, the other indicating the compass line.
"Light touch," he said. "The boat listens before you think it will."
Marissa placed both hands on the wheel.
The sight affected Nathan in a way he had not expected.
His wife, framed by the windshield, moonlight beginning to silver the edges of her hair, the open water ahead of her and Dane just behind her shoulder. Not touching. Not yet. But near enough that the air between them had density.
"Pick that dark notch between the two headlands," Dane said. "Do you see it?"
"I think so."
"That is where we are going. Do not chase the bow. Look where you mean to arrive. Your hands will follow."
Marissa's shoulders lowered.
The boat held its line.
"Good," Dane said.
The praise was quiet. Practical.
Marissa absorbed it like warmth.
Nathan watched her become focused, not coy, not performing. The intimacy of competence surprised him. Dane was not telling her she was beautiful. He was trusting her with motion. That trust lit something in her face no compliment could have reached.
The boat drifted slightly to port.
"There," Dane said. "Feel that?"
"Yes."
"Correct gently. Not because you failed. Because water moves."
He reached around her, not touching her body, and placed two fingers near her right hand on the wheel to demonstrate. The nearness was electric precisely because it remained restrained.
Nathan's breath shortened.
Marissa corrected.
The bow answered.
"That's it," Dane said.
She smiled, quick and bright.
Nathan felt jealousy then, but it was not the blunt instrument he feared. It was sharp, yes. Hot. But braided with pride, with desire, with the almost unbearable sensation of seeing his wife through another man's careful attention and recognizing what he had let grow ordinary.
Dane looked back at him.
"Nathan," he said. "Come take her six."
"Her what?"
"Stand behind her. Not on her. Behind. Feel the motion she is holding."
Marissa glanced over her shoulder, and Nathan saw no mockery in her face. Only invitation.
He stepped into place behind her.
Dane moved away, leaving room.
Nathan stood close enough to feel the heat of Marissa through the ivory dress, close enough that her back nearly brushed his chest as the boat lifted and settled. He did not touch her at first. Then she reached back with one hand, found his, and placed it on her waist.
The wheel remained under her other hand.
The sea stretched ahead.
Dane watched the instruments, giving them privacy in plain sight.
"Look where you mean to arrive," Marissa murmured.
Nathan smiled against the wind. "Is that nautical advice or marriage advice?"
"Both, apparently."
The headlands slowly widened before them.
Dane returned to Marissa's side only when the water began to darken in complicated patterns ahead.
"I'll take it from here," he said.
Marissa let go of the wheel, but not immediately. Her fingers lingered as if releasing a secret.
Dane's hand closed over the place hers had been.
For one suspended second, their hands almost touched.
They did not.
Nathan saw the restraint.
Marissa saw it too.
That was what made it feel less like denial and more like promise.
Dane eased the throttle back.
"Black Lantern entrance," he said. "Everyone steady. The cove likes respect."
Nathan kept his hand at Marissa's waist.
She leaned back into him.
Together, they watched Dane guide them toward the dark notch in the cliffs, where the open sea narrowed into something hidden.