chapter two #2
“Unfortunately,” the woman says, “the only other option is to cancel one of you and book a new cruise for a later date.” She checks her watch. “But we’ll need to do it ASAP. We set sail in less than two hours, and we’ll have to track down your luggage.”
Riley whirls on me. “It’ll have to be you.”
I laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. No can do.”
“Neither can I. It was hard enough getting this time off work. I’ll never get the opportunity again.”
“That makes two of us.”
“But….” She hangs her head and bends over, hands gripping the counter as if it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
Fearing she’s about to hyperventilate, I ask, “If we share, how much of a refund do we get?”
“Fifty percent,” the woman answers.
Riley snaps her head up. “I’m not sharing!”
“Could you give us a second?” I clasp Riley’s elbow and gently pull her aside. “That’s nearly eight grand. Each.”
“I don’t care. This trip is… special. It’s personal. No offense, but I don’t want to spend sixteen days sharing a cabin with you.”
“I don’t want to either. But what choice do we have? You won’t cancel, and I won’t cancel. So… what? Are they going to flip a damn coin?” I run a hand through my hair. “Do you like those odds? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
Tears spill from her eyes, and she clutches her bag to her chest as if it’s the only thing anchoring her.
I swallow hard, almost on the brink of caving, when she wipes her cheeks and says, “Okay. If we don’t have a choice, we’ll share.”
Relief sweeps through me, which is weird, because I’m not relieved. Far from it. “Are you sure?”
“Not really,” she deadpans. “But if we have to, we’re getting more than a fifty-fucking-percent refund.”
Caught off guard by her sudden I-want-to-spill-blood mood shift, I move out of her way as she storms back to the counter.
“We’ll share,” she says, “but we want free Wi-Fi as well. And the all-you-can-drink package. And separate beds—moved to opposite sides of the cabin. And… And as many shore excursions as we want”—I lift my brows at that. Good idea— “And… a damn apology letter. It’s the least you can do.”
“Rest assured, Ms. Wilson, we can certainly arrange that.”
“Good.”
“Thank you so much for your understanding. And once again, I really am sorry for this.”
“And don’t forget that refund. I want my money back before the end of this cruise, or I’ll…” She squares her shoulders. “I’ll make this ridiculous error public on social media.”
“Of course.” The supervisor smiles awkwardly.
“Let me fix this up for you. I’ll send a steward to your room immediately to reconfigure your beds, set all excursions as $0 in your daily schedule on the ship’s app, and I’ll add a drinks and Wi-Fi package to your accounts.
Everything will be updated on your sailing card, so you won’t have to worry about a thing. ”
I internally applaud Riley’s negotiation skills. Free drinks? Awesome. “I’m impressed,” I whisper.
“I’m not,” she hisses.
The supervisor hands our lanyards back. “All sorted. And if there’s anything else we can help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“We won’t,” Riley grumbles before striding away.
I thank the woman and fall into step beside my marching cohabitee.
“Hey, I know it’s not ideal, but it might not be that bad.
We now have free drinks, which would’ve cost over a thousand dollars each if we actually purchased the package, free unlimited shore adventures, plus more money in our banks. And I’m a good roommate. I promise.”
“Do you snore?” she asks.
Shit.
“No,” I lie.
“Thank goodness.”
She wipes her damp eyes once more, and my chest tightens at her distress. This trip is obviously more than just a vacation for her. It is for me, too, but she seems to be carrying more than just her precious bag. Either that, or she’s extremely emotional—like my niece. God help me.
“We’re going to have to lay down some rules and boundaries,” she says.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hug her to me. “No sweat.”
“Starting with”—she shrugs out of my grip—“respecting each other’s personal space.”
Raising my hands, I nod. “Fair enough.”
“Toilet seat down. Pick up after yourself. And don’t touch my things. Especially that.” Riley points to her bag, which is sitting on the desk on her side of the room. After the steward rearranged the beds and left the cabin, Riley had all but drawn a line down the center of it.
“Why? What’s in it?” I reach out to pick up her treasured bag, but she snatches it away.
“I said don’t touch.”
“Okay, okay.” For quite possibly the hundredth time since meeting her, I once again raise my hands in surrender. “I won’t touch your shit.”
“Good. And no sleepovers.”
“Come again?” I collect the TV remote and move it to my bedside table.
“No bringing some random girl back to my room.”
I laugh; she’s funny. “It’s not your room. It’s ours.”
“Fine. No bringing some random girl back to our room.” She unzips her suitcase and carefully lifts out an evening dress, the shiny purple material skimming the floor.
I stare at it, my imagination forming a picture of it draped over her body, her long dark hair cascading over her bare shoulder. “I’m a grown-ass man, sweetheart,” I say, clearing my croaky throat. “If I want to hook up with a woman on my vacation, I will.”
“Good for you. But you can do it in her room. Not this one.”
My natural instinct is to argue and tell her where to go—back to Manhattan—but the last thing I want to do right now is… argue. That’s all I’ve done for the past two years, and quite frankly, I’m exhausted.
“I’m going to the bar.”
She lays the dress on the bed, spins to face me, and shoves her hands onto her hips. “But we need to set some boundaries and—”
“What I need is a drink. Boundaries can wait.”
“But—”
“Later, sweetheart.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Fine. Later, cookie.” I wink and head to the door, waving without looking back.
“Riley!”
“How bad can it be?” I mumble under my breath as I close the door behind me. Ha! Bad. This can end up being very bad.