Chapter 14 Day 2, At Sea
ASHLEY
“We can start over, just give me a chance…”
Oh, God, my traitorous heart wanted to say yes.
My head didn’t let me.
If I let him pull me in again, surrounded by the sun and the ocean, with flowers and champagne and all the makings of a romantic getaway…
And then go home with all the problems that led us to this point still waiting to tear us apart again.
I could lose myself completely.
And I can’t do that. To myself, or to my boys.
So I told him the only thing that might keep us safe.
I don’t love you anymore.
And he left.
He didn’t say “You don’t mean that” or “Just tell me what you need”, he walked away.
Something he’d gotten really good at doing lately.
I don’t sleep after that. Instead, my brain spins through one scenario after another.
Was he in the fitness room, working off his frustrations? Sitting in some bar, drowning them instead? Or… was he flirting with someone in one of the dance clubs?
We are technically separated… But, no. He wouldn’t do that. Not on the ship where any member of my family or wedding guest might see him.
But as soon as I dismiss that fear, I stumble upon a worse one.
Would he do something… reckless? Something final?
The image of him going overboard hits me like a wave, cold and dizzying, and I have to sit up just to breathe. But no—Beckett wouldn’t do that. No matter what, he’d never do that to our boys.
Still, when the door finally opens and he stumbles back in, alive and… mostly upright, I exhale for the first time in hours.
He falls onto the sofa bed with a groan, setting the metal joints and springs creaking under the sudden weight, and within a minute, the sound of his breathing fills the room.
And as it evens and slows, the frantic back-and-forth in my brain finally comes to a halt, soothed by his presence.
Eventually, exhaustion drags me under, and it feels like I’ve barely slept a wink when my alarm slices through the quiet however many hours later.
Beckett doesn’t move.
Aside from grabbing my phone and silencing it, I don’t either.
I just lie there, feeling heavy, almost like I’ve been drugged.
Honestly, I could have stayed like that all day, except I don’t get to opt out of the things I’d planned.
Besides, it shouldn’t be too much of a burden—today, at least. After all…
It’s a spa day.
When I open the glass door to the Paradise Spa & Thermal Suite, I’m immediately hit with fragrances of eucalyptus, expensive perfume, and manufactured calm.
This is going to relax me. It’s a spa, for goodness sake.
And yet, after standing there longer than necessary, with that soft, meditative type of music floating through the room, the heaviness in me doesn’t ease.
In fact, it may have gotten worse.
Still, I do what I have to do.
As I follow the attendant through to the back, I straighten my shoulders, smooth my expression, and tuck the darkness away.
All is well. Everything is fine.
Because this isn’t my moment.
Luna is already in the locker room when I arrive, wrapped in one of those impossibly fluffy white robes, hair twisted up, cheeks a little flushed. Even tired, joy seems to sit easily on her.
An attendant presses a robe into my hands and the moment she leaves us alone, Luna’s eyes go wide.
“I’m wearing my swimsuit,” she whispers, like she’s confessing something scandalous. “She said we could go… you know. Natural. But—”
I laugh, already digging into my bag. “You’re fine. I brought mine.”
She exhales in relief, and while she wanders over to one of the windows, I turn my back to change. My breath stutters a little at having a few extra seconds where I don’t have to be on.
“I can tell you haven’t had your coffee yet.”
“Oh, can you?” I say, focusing on the familiar motions—pulling on my suit, tying the robe. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby. It was like the ship was rocking me to slee—”
Tay barrels in, mid-gush. “I cannot believe I’m late. I’m never late.” She tosses her robe onto a bench and starts changing without breaking stride. “And for the record, the only reason I slept in is because the guys were out so late. Idiots.”
Luna snorts. “How would you know?”
“My cabin’s right next to theirs,” Tay says cheerfully. “Those walls are thin.”
Luna laughs, shaking her head. “I was wiped, but Noah went down for a few drinks with Simon after I went to bed. When he brought me my coffee this morning, he said things got a little wild.”
I listen with half an ear, nodding at the right moments, grateful for the chatter. Grateful for the noise.
And doing my very best not to think about Beckett at all.
A spa attendant peeks around the door and then strolls in. “We’ll start with the sauna, if that works for everyone.”
Luna clears her throat. “Is it safe for, you know… women who might be expecting?”
Wait. What?
“Expecting?” My eyes snap to her. “Are you—?”
Luna blinks. Then snorts, laughter bubbling out of her. “No! Oh my God, no. Not me. I was just… curious.” Her gaze flicks, quick and unmistakable, to Tay.
Tay suddenly becomes very invested in her cuticles.
Ah.
The attendant smiles smoothly. “If there’s any chance someone might be pregnant, we don’t recommend the sauna. High heat can raise core body temperature. But we’re happy to skip it or substitute another service.”
Luna looks to Tay again.
There’s nothing wrong with a woman having a baby on her own. Nothing at all. And if that’s what this is, it’s Tay’s business. Not mine to probe or accidentally expose.
“Let’s skip it,” I say easily. “I’m not really in a sauna mood anyway.”
“No problem, no problem at all. In that case, we’ll move things right along…”
An awkward relief falls on our group, and the three of us trail behind her as if nothing just happened.
Manicures and pedicures come next—luxurious, yes, but also practical. One more thing checked off. I go pink-tipped. Luna chooses red. Tay picks purple.
Then facials. Something called Oceanic Renewal, which sounds peaceful but feels suspiciously like being smothered by chilled seaweed. Apparently, it’s worth $140.
I lie there with my eyes closed, letting the soft music and low murmurs blur together.
My thoughts drift to Tay—what this might mean for her, how quietly and completely it could reshape her life.
It’s not my business to wonder whether she wanted a baby or not, but contemplating someone else's future is easier—safer—than contemplating mine.
By the time we’re led into the Eucalyptus Room—dim lighting, cucumber water, warm towels rolled into neat spirals—that heavy feeling I woke up with finally eases.
For the first time today, my shoulders loosen. Just a little.
I focus on the water. On breathing. On not thinking about Beckett, who is probably still in our cabin, sleeping off whatever last night turned into.
It’s not my job to worry about him anymore.
That doesn’t mean I’m not annoyed.
So when I get back to the suite—scrubbed, polished, and moisturized within an inch of my life—I don’t bother tiptoeing. The door shuts with a decisive click. My toiletry bag lands on the counter with a satisfying thwack. I might even hum, loudly, just to make a point.
The groan that follows is pathetic.
Beckett looks like hell—bloodshot eyes, hair sticking up at odd angles, jaw shadowed.
He blinks at me. Squints.
“What time is it?” he asks, then immediately winces at the sound of his own voice.
“Noon,” I say, hanging my robe. “I texted Mom earlier to push the go-karts with the boys to after lunch.” I glance at my phone. “Which means you have exactly one hour to make yourself human.”
“Shit. Yeah. Thanks.” He drags his palms down his face.
“Want me to order you coffee?”
He goes even paler. “Maybe later.”
He shuffles toward the bathroom, shoulders slumped, clearly miserable.
I watch him go—far more irritated than I should be that even half-dead, hungover, and squinting at the light, he’s still stupidly, infuriatingly gorgeous.
It’s just deeply unfair.
The door shuts, and I hear the shower starting.
And then, less than five seconds later—
A strangled, guttural scream. I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound.
“Beckett?” I call out, rushing toward the door. “Beckett, are you okay?”
Silence.