Chapter 4 Paradise
PARADISE
ASHLEY
After all that, turns out, we can’t even go to our rooms yet. They won’t be ready until later this afternoon.
Not my favorite part of cruising, but whatever. I can adapt.
So, once the PCL agent promises our luggage will be delivered to my mother’s cabin, and hers delivered to ours, I lead us to the escalators. “Okay! Let’s get this show on the road! Kids’ pool is on Deck Sixteen.”
The boys cheer like I just announced free ice cream for life. They’re both wearing their trunks for shorts—Max’s are green and plastered with a bunch of miniature Hulks, while Blakey is in blue, with Spider Man across the front.
Naturally.
Beneath my sundress, I’m wearing one of my new swimsuits. I’ve got snacks in my tote, sunscreen, SPF 50, a waterproof pouch for my phone, and clamps to keep our towels from blowing off the lounge chairs.
Normally, I’d have filled Bex’s backpack with other various necessities. He hooks it over his shoulder, though, and I have no idea what’s inside.
It’s yet another sobering reminder of how much things have changed.
“I’ll meet everyone up there in a few minutes,” he says, taking a step back. I used to just assume he would be checking in with work when he’d do this. Now…
I have no idea where he’s off to.
“Sure.” Shake it off, Ashley, I tell myself as I watch him disappear.
Beckett and I might be hurtling toward divorce, but we’re civilized adults.
Rational. Responsible. Mature. I am absolutely not the kind of woman who would make her soon-to-be-ex-husband sleep on the balcony.
From what I remember, the beds in these cabins can be split apart.
And besides, this isn’t about me. This week is about Luna and Noah.
Speaking of which—
“Luna,” I call as we join a dozen people waiting for an elevator. “You have your swimsuit, right?”
Luna rolls her eyes and twirls her beach bag. “Yes, Mom.”
Noah chuckles, locking his arms around her from behind. “The one with the little daisies?” he asks. When my sister nods, he gives me a wink. “My girl is prepared for everything. You should’ve seen her stuff those packing cubes you ordered for her.”
“Don’t mock the system,” I warn lightly as I hit the number 16 and we file into the mirrored cubicle to whisk us to one of the top levels of the boat.
“I would never.” Noah grins, turning back to Luna. “But we’ve lost my mom and Court. Do you want to set up by the pool while I track her down and tell her where we are?”
“As long as you bring me a margarita,” Luna says, literally glowing up at him. And right there in that packed elevator, the engaged couple… they kiss. Slowly, shamelessly, and so thoroughly that I have to look away before my ears burn off.
How long has it been since Bex kissed me like that?
When the elevator doors slide open, Noah slips out and disappears into a stairwell before any of us can blink. So I take Luna’s elbow—she’s still looking a little dazed—and steer her toward where the pool should be.
The boys, meanwhile, are each clinging to one of Mom’s hands.
I lean closer to Luna. “I can’t believe Mrs. Grady brought her assistant along. I know you said she was kind of a workaholic, but wow.”
“Assistant...?” Luna crinkles her brow. “Oh, no. That’s Courtney.”
“Courtney?”
Wait.
No.
“As in… Noah’s ex-wife, Courtney?”
Luna just shrugs again, casual as you please. “Yeah. She and his mom are really good friends. I told you that, right?” I stare at her incredulously, because, yeah, she mentioned as much at some point probably, but… Noah’s mom brought his ex-wife? On their wedding cruise?
We pass through some glass sliding doors onto the pool deck.
It’s already crowded with cruise-goers, an upbeat, beachy tune playing over the speakers. The boys peel off their t-shirts and stuff them into my bag before dragging Mom straight towards the water. Luna and I claim a line of empty lounge chairs.
Seeing as we’re semi-alone now, I decide to prod Luna a little more on the subject. “So you’re just… fine with her being here?”
“Honestly? Yeah. It’s weird, but it’s fine.”
I shake my head. My sister, who by all rights should hate Mrs. Grady, has somehow transcended mortal insecurity.
“Wow. That’s very… Zen of you.”
I used to be trusting. I used to be Zen.
“I guess,” she chirps with a shrug, then drops her cover-up, revealing the aforementioned bright yellow bikini with little white daisies.
“You look amazing,” I say.
She smirks, adjusting her sunhat. “Noah and I have been jogging. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll do anything for that man.”
“Wow. If that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is,” I tease, stepping out of my sundress.
My two-piece bathing suit is turquoise, a little skimpy.
“Not bad yourself, Ash.” Luna kicks back on a lounge chair, crossing her toned legs.
Then, in that casual way only sisters can pull off, she adds, “Bex looks tired. I’m so glad he came. I’ll bet you are too. I was really bummed when he missed the engagement party. Finally, he and Noah can bond. And you two can have some—” Here it comes. “—sexy times. A little romance.”
Sexy.
I think this cruise just might kill me.
“We get plenty of romance,” I say.
“Uh-huh.” Luna’s tone makes it painfully clear she doesn’t believe that for a second.
I automatically scan the deck and pinpoint where the boys are—giggling in the shallow end, glistening with the sunscreen I’d applied earlier that morning. They’re fine. Covered. Happy.
Which means I can actually breathe.
I sit back and smooth lotion onto my arms. Luna and I take turns with the hard-to-reach spots—sisterly teamwork—and then we both lie back, letting the sun settle over us like a blanket.
For a moment, I almost relax, eyes closed behind my sunglasses.
The boys are with Mom. The breeze is soft.
And then… something shifts.
A subtle ripple in the air.
When I open my eyes, I see Beckett approaching one of the poolside bars—tall, maddeningly self-assured, wearing a baseball cap over his jet-black hair. Backwards.
I’ll never not notice that man.
I shift in my chair, hoping to shake it off.
A moment later, Noah joins Beckett at the bar.
They talk. Order.
Drinks are poured, passed across the counter.
Then both men turn and, each balancing two margaritas, they start back across the deck—casual, unhurried, like this really is just another vacation.
If Beckett brought a carry-on, I have absolutely no idea where it is now.
But that’s not my problem.
“No salt.” Beckett hands me a massive bowl of hazy green liquid.
He ghosted me on my last birthday, but now he remembers how I like my margarita.
I take the drink, thanking him, then make myself busy stuffing my phone in the waterproof case around my neck.
Beckett is kicking his sandals off and honestly, it kind of bothers me that without my help, he remembered to wear his swim trunks onto the ship. Over those, he’s wearing a colorful button-up shirt, one I’d bought for another vacation, with those aviators hooked at the collar.
Instead of unbuttoning the shirt like any normal person, he reaches for the hem.
And then, against my better judgment, my gaze follows the fabric as it slides up, revealing olive skin that I know will turn a perfect bronze in about fifteen minutes.
What I’m not familiar with, however, are… the definition in his abs. A year ago, those abs were a little soft.
I swallow hard.
He catches me looking. Of course he does.
“Did you remember to bring sunscreen?” I ask, aiming for casual, but instead sounding a little passive aggressive.
He rubs a hand along his jaw. “Ran out of time.”
“Bex is helpless without you,” Luna declares from my other side. She and Noah have moved their chairs together, his hand tracing lazy circles on her thigh.
I grab my drink, lift it to my mouth, and crunch on a piece of ice.
“He manages.” For a few seconds, we sit there in the sunlight, side by side—me stiff, Beckett… Annoyingly quiet.
I’m mid-sip when a bright voice cuts through the hum of chatter around us.
“Excuse me! You’re with the Faraday-Grady wedding party, right? We definitely need a few shots of the bride- and groom-to-be.” She winks, camera already in hand.
Of course. The ship's photographer. I’ve heard about this. It’s a thing.
“We are!” Luna sits up, tugging Noah toward her.
The woman in khaki shorts and a headset has already snapped a few pictures of Noah and Luna when Luna gestures to me. “I want pictures with these two if you don’t mind. This is my sister, my faithful maid of honor, and her gorgeous workaholic husband.”
My stomach tenses. Beckett, beside me, hasn’t moved.
No, scratch that—he’s moved just enough to shove on his sunglasses and turn his cap around, pulling it low over his eyes.
“Absolutely!” And then, eyeing us, “Get in here, you two!”
Beckett’s hand lands on my back, and he slides in behind me like he’s trying to disappear.
“A little closer, please!” the photographer chirps.
We press together—Luna practically glowing, Noah cool as ever, and Beckett half-tucked behind me… Does he not want to be seen with me, or what?
I catch the faint scent of his aftershave—sharp, familiar, frustrating.
“Say paradise!”
“Paradise,” we parrot, a little off-key.
The camera clicks a few more times, and just like that, it’s over.
Beckett peels away, glancing around and then settling back into his lounge chair.
I shoot him a sideways glare, one brow raised.
What was that? But I don’t ask.
Not my business.
“I’m gonna check on the boys,” I say, standing a little too quickly. Before anyone can stop me, I take a fortifying swallow of my margarita and set off across the deck.
“I’ll come with you.” It’s Beckett, of course—because despite our problems this year, when he’s actually around, he’s an amazing dad.
Damn it.
“New swimsuit?” he asks, falling into step beside me as we make our way to the kids’ pool.
“I needed something for the cruise,” I answer, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of exposed skin. Which is ridiculous. The man has seen me naked more times than I can count.