Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Then he took a sip from the pint glass, realized it was water, and tried to order another bourbon. “Bartender!” he called, like a man who really didn’t spend a lot of time in bars. “Another bourbon, please!”
The bartender and I met eyes and then shook our heads at each other, like Nope.
My dad patted the table where my drink should be and said, “What are you drinking?”
“Nobody’s drinking anything,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Especially not you.”
“What are you doing?” my dad asked, watching my phone as I typed.
“I’m texting Mom.”
“Don’t text Mom,” my dad said. “She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” I corrected. “She’s given up on you. That’s different.”
“I don’t want her to see me like this.”
“Too bad,” I said. “I’m in the middle of my own personal crisis.”
To my mom, I typed: Dad is drunk at the tiki bar and just collapsed. Please get here ASAP. He needs to see the ship’s doc!
Was I allowing the situation to sound a bit more dire than it was? Of course. I wasn’t leaving my dad here alone. Not until I had a replacement. Which would’ve been nice like five minutes ago.
Next, I texted Cooper.
I need to talk to you, I typed—and hit Send.
Then I added, ASAP!!!
Then I sent one more: Come find me. I’m in the tiki bar with my drunk dad.
Then I set my phone on the table, face up, as I set about giving my dad some top-notch relationship advice while I waited for reinforcements. “Okay,” I said, like I’d had just about enough of this nonsense. “You need to pull it together. Mom didn’t reject you.”
“She definitely did. She said, and I quote, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’”
“I reject her rejection,” I said.
“Is that allowed?”
“You didn’t make your case for yourself!” I said. “She’s making the same decision as before because she only has the same information as before. You haven’t talked to her.”
“I can’t talk to her,” my dad said.
“Sure you can,” I said. “You’ve been married thirty years.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” my dad said. “It’s because we’ve been married thirty years.”
I was just about to gently explain to him that he was making zero sense when he went on.
“I’ve built my whole life around her. She’s the reason I do everything. She’s the reason I get up in the morning. She’s the reason I go to work. I don’t know who I am without your mom—or why I am. But there’s no way to explain that to her. There aren’t words in the world that can capture it.”
“Dad!” I said, totally making heart eyes. “You’re a complete romantic!”
“I know what you’re thinking,” my dad said. “You’re thinking how can she mean that much to me when I was never around?”
“I mean, I wasn’t thinking that. But it’s a good question.”
“She’s my Penelope.”
“She’s your who?”
My dad blinked at me, like How are you not getting it? “Penelope. From the Odyssey.”
“Are you explaining your love life to me through the works of Homer?”
“Odysseus’s whole purpose in life is to get home to Penelope,” my dad said. “That’s your mom for me.”
Okay, that was actually unbelievably sweet.
Was I going to have to rethink all my theories about my dad? Or worse—go read Homer?
“So,” I said, “what I’m hearing is, the pressure of that conversation is making you clam up.”
My dad nodded, like it was hopeless. “Give me a Cyclops any day of the week. But a conversation? With your mother? I’m doomed.”
I looked down to check my phone. Cooper still hadn’t texted me back, but my mother had.
Sigh, she typed. On my way.
“Dad,” I said, “Mom’s on her way, and I’ve gotta get going.”
“Don’t leave me,” my dad said.
“Maybe this is an opportunity for you,” I said. “Maybe being a little drunk will make it easier to talk to Mom.”
“You think so?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t recommend it on a daily basis. But given the situation … it’s worth a shot.”
He sighed like it was hopeless.
“Talk to her. You’re a marine. You’re great at physical courage. This is emotional courage. It’s the same thing—only harder.”
My dad frowned.
“But that’s what the bourbon is for!” I tried to sound encouraging.
“Your inhibitions are down, and she’s on her way.
Let all that alcohol fuel you to excellence!
Haven’t you read Brené Brown? It’s our vulnerabilities that connect us!
Don’t be a tough guy. Be tender! Be desperate! Cry a little if you have to!”
My dad gave me a look like now I’d really gone too far.
I sighed. “Just tell her how you feel, okay?”
My dad didn’t argue with that. He nodded like life had defeated him. “Okay.”
I stood up and grabbed my shoes to go. “You’ve got this!” I said, putting out my fist for a bump. “What Would Odysseus Do?”
My dad didn’t seem to follow my meaning. “Poke out the eye of the Cyclops?”
“No,” I said. “He’d keep going! He wouldn’t give up. He’d be the hero of his own story, and he’d take Penelope in his arms, and he’d tell her the truth about how much he always loved her.”
“I don’t think the Odyssey is a love story.”
“Maybe that depends,” I said, “on how you read it.”
BY THE TIME I finally made it to Cooper’s hallway, a full half hour had elapsed—and still no reply text from Cooper. And it wasn’t until I got close to our room that—with a plummet in my chest—I realized why.
Because when I got to our door … there was a sock on the doorknob.
At the sight, I stopped walking.
Then I put my hand over my mouth.
Then I double-checked the cabin number.
Then I tiptoed a little closer to peer at it.
Yep. That was one of Cooper’s socks. One of Cooper’s dirty socks, to be specific. Straight outta the laundry pile.
Holy shit. A sock on the doorknob?! Was it a sex sock? Was Cooper in there doing unspeakable things with Bridesmaid Two?
Focusing on the bright side, there were no … sock noises emanating from the room.
That was a blessing, at least.
Could it be a joke? Should I knock?
But the second I had that thought, I wanted to snatch it back out of my mind. You couldn’t pay me a thousand dollars to even touch that door right now, much less knock on it.
Honestly, I really didn’t know what to do.
As the astonishment wore off, I felt my whole body just saturate with disappointment.
Never mind that I wouldn’t be setting the record straight anytime soon. And never mind that I’d have to find another place to sleep tonight.
More than anything, I just … couldn’t believe it.
Because I’ll tell you something true. The reason that I hadn’t wanted to kiss Finn Turner tonight was because the person I really wanted to kiss …
Was Cooper.
And I guess, after all that lovely slow dancing, I’d been thinking Cooper wanted that, too.
This was the second time in my life I’d let myself like Cooper Watts—and the second time I’d thought he liked me back.
And—apparently—the second time I was wrong.
Really wrong. About as wrong as you can be.
I turned away and started making my way back down the hall the way that I’d come, and my reaction was physical. My breaths were shallow. I got lightheaded. I had to stop near the elevator bank, lean against the wall for balance, and remind myself how breathing worked.
Three seconds in, three seconds out. Where was my mom when I needed her?
Cooper … had put a sock … on our cabin doorknob.
Cooper was in our room right now doing some kind of sock thing … with a sock person … who wasn’t me.
And whether this was fair or unfair, right or wrong, justified or not … it felt like the biggest betrayal of my life.
It felt like something I’d never recover from.
That’s what I was thinking as I walked back to the theater to find Ashley and ask if I could stay in her room.
And then, after finding the theater emptied out, as I walked to Ashley’s cabin.
And then, after hearing a few possible sock noises outside that door, as I walked down to Harmony’s room—which did not have a lei on its knob yet but was emanating sexy music like it was about to.
Was this whole boat just fornicating?
Maybe I’d just have to sleep outside on a deck chair.
I was making my way back down our hallway—toward the outdoor lounge—when I ran into Finn. Of all people.
“Is this your floor?” I asked.
“I never sleep below the waterline,” Finn replied, tilting his head at his cabin door.
Huh. He’d been three doors down from Cooper this whole time.
“What are you doing up here?” Finn asked.
I decided to go with a partial truth. “My roommate kicked me out.”
“Who’s your roommate?”
“Our cousin Harmony,” I said, and when he showed no recognition, I added, “The girl with all the hickeys.”
“Ah,” Finn said, like Of course. Then, putting it all together: “Sounds like you need a place to sleep.”
How astute. “That’s true.”
“You can use my room, if you like.”
I hesitated. “How do you mean ‘use’ it?”
“Sleep there,” Finn said, like Duh.
“With you?” I finally had to specify.
“Oh!” he said. “No. I’ll be joining a new friend I made at the bar. Just as soon as I pick up some—toiletries.”
Yes. The whole ship was fornicating.
But I got to the point: “You’re not using your room tonight?” I asked.
“Not unless my luck takes a nosedive.”
I can’t say it was a good idea to sleep over at Finn’s, given the whole context. But I also wasn’t sure that I saw another choice.
So that’s how I wound up sleeping in Finn’s cabin.
I spent the night in my dress, on top of his covers, studying my blistered feet and cursing the man who’d invented high heels. It was not exactly relaxing, but it was better, I kept telling myself, than sleeping outside.
Small blessings.
When I finally conked out, I slept until Finn showed back up in the morning.
He knocked politely with a knuckle, and we greeted each other pleasantly with big-brother, little-sister energy. He somehow seemed a lot more likable now that I wasn’t trying to force myself to fall in love with him.
And maybe he felt the same way about me.
He even let me use a spare travel toothbrush and invited me to breakfast. Which I was more than happy to agree to. Since if I never went back to Cooper’s cabin, it would be too soon.
Did I want to strap my terrible sandals back on and go to breakfast in my dress from the night before with an unshaven, bed-rumpled Finn?
Why not, right?
Cooper was probably ordering room service right now with Sock Girl.
Like a gentleman, Finn opened his door for me, and I stepped out into the hallway.
And there, just three doors down, standing at our cabin door, alone … was Cooper.
Staring right at us.