chapter twenty-six #2
“Jesus, Riley!” she snaps. “It’s just stupid huts and rocks and crap. You said so yourself. I don’t care about them.”
“You do!”
“No, I don’t. What I care about is getting Georgia back on the phone, so I don’t lose my job.”
My eye twitches.
“You have no idea what you just did.” She storms off, then disappears behind a wall.
Fuck!
Settling my hands on my head, I grip my hair and make my way outside, wandering about the exhibit until Riles eventually steps up beside me. I want to look at her, to see if she’s okay, but I pretend to read about the Neolithic way of life instead.
“Did you lose your job?” I ask like a smartass.
“No. But thanks to you, I could have.”
I scoff. “I doubt that.”
She turns on her heel and heads back inside, so I grit my teeth and hurry after her.
“Riles, wait! I’m sorry.” I grab her arm and turn her to face me. “I shouldn’t have hung up on your boss. You’re right; it was none of my business, and I was out of line.”
Letting out a shaky breath, her shoulders slump. “You can’t interfere with my job, Riley.”
“I know.” I pull her in for a hug and kiss the top of her head. “I just don’t want to see you….” I hold her at arm’s length, my eyes searching hers. “Never mind. This is the last day of our cruise. Let’s just enjoy it, yeah?”
She nods but averts her gaze, so I tuck her into my side as we head back to the tour bus.
During the trip back to Southampton, Riles falls asleep again, her head on my shoulder, her drool on my shirt.
Like puke, I’m not a fan of spit, especially someone else’s, but I’ll deal with it, because Riles isn’t just someone else.
In the short time we’ve spent together, she’s become a part of me, a part of my life as I now know it and want it to be moving forward.
Her puke is my puke.
Her drool is my drool.
I wince.
Well, not exactly. But it’s less stomach-churning if I keep telling myself that.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” I say as we pull into the dock not far from the ship.
She lifts her head, wipes her mouth, stares at my damp shirt, and then wipes that too. “We’re back already? That was quick.”
It wasn’t. Fifty-seven minutes in a bus full of noisy people is far from “quick.”
We collect our things, amble along the aisle, and descend the stairs, stepping out of the path of other passengers as they disperse.
“We still have five hours before we set sail,” I say, clasping her hand, “which should be enough time to visit the car museum and the Titanic exhibit.”
“About that.” She holds her ground, our arms outstretched. “I can’t. I need to go back to the room and read through—”
My heart deflates, and I let go of her hand.
“I’m sorry, but Georgia insisted.”
“Have fun. I’ll see you later.” Turning away from her, I make my way toward the city center.
“Riley!” she calls out. “Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”
I lift my hand in a wave, refusing to look back, not wanting to argue.
Am I mad? Yeah… livid. But I’m more disappointed than anything.
We don’t have a lot of time left together before we have to say goodbye, and who knows how long that goodbye will last. A few days, a week, a month?
I have no idea. Judging by how easily Riles sacrifices everything for Georgia, my gut tells me it could be the latter.
I hope it’s not. I hope we can make this work.
We won’t know until we try, of course. I just pray I’m not the only one trying.
Been there, done that, and I won’t do it again.
After leaving Riles on the dock, I jump in an Uber and visit the National Motor Museum, where I bump into Manny and Hugo, a decent consolation for Riles’s absence.
Manny shares his automotive knowledge, and Hugo eagerly chaperones me through a thirteenth-century Gothic manor, which forms part of the grounds.
We admire the furnishings and décor, and I appreciate his expertise and ideas, some of them inspiring ideas of my own for when I return to my workshop.
I’ve missed the smell of wood, varnish, and even the sawdust, but I’ve also appreciated the change of scenery.
The escape. The adventure. It was exactly what I needed, and I have Roni—and Riles—to thank for that.
Sliding my sailing card into the door of our cabin, I push it open and enter the room. Riles looks up, rubs her eyes, and immediately shuts her laptop, pushing it aside before standing.
“Hey,” she says, voice timid. “Was the Titanic exhibit good?”
I take a seat on the edge of my bed and rest my elbows on my knees. “I didn’t go there.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “Why not?”
“I chose not to.”
Taking a seat beside me, she fiddles with the bracelet I gave her in Qaqortok and then places her hands in her lap. “You’re mad.”
“I’m not.”
“Lies.”
“I’m not mad, Riles,” I say, voice calm. “I’m worried.”
“Worried?” She gently squeezes my thigh. “Why are you worried?”
“Because you’re already in a relationship, and I fear there’s no room for me… or us.”
“What are you talking about?” She leans back, angling herself away from me. “I’m not in a relationship with anybody.”
“You are. With Georgia.”
“That’s—” She stands up and walks to the desk, tidying the stack of daily newsletters before facing me again. “That’s just stupid. She’s my boss; I’m her assistant. That’s all. We’re not together. How could you think that?”
“I don’t mean you’re seeing each other, Riles.
” I chuckle, unable to help it. “What I mean is you’re obsessed with pleasing her.
If she demands, you comply, even when it means sacrificing your own happiness.
You said so yourself that she’s stolen too much of your time, time you can’t get back, and yet you’re still willingly giving it to her. ”
Her mouth opens, then closes, her eyes bouncing about their sockets like pinballs.
“So yeah.” I sigh. “I’m worried you’ll let her steal our time, which she did today.”
Chewing the inside of her cheek, she dips her head and stares at the ground.
I stand and tilt her chin up with the tip of my finger. “I’ve just ended a relationship that was one-sided, and it almost destroyed me. I don’t want that again.”
“I’m not your ex-wife, Riley.” She swipes my hand away. “And I never will be.”
I tilt her face back to mine. “I know that. You’re nothing like Krystal.”
“Then stop comparing us.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I cup her cheeks. “I’m comparing the situations.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
Goddamn, beautiful, strong-willed, frustratingly stubborn woman!
“Riles—”
“Riley.”
My jaw tics, and she cocks an eyebrow.
“All I’m saying is stop letting Georgia dictate your life beyond what is reasonable… and lawful. You’re smarter and stronger than that. You deserve better. And if we’re going to try to make this work, I deserve better too.”
Tears well in her eyes before she blinks them away.
“I don’t want to argue, sweetheart.” I press my lips to hers. “This is our last night on the cruise.”
She swallows. “I don’t want to argue either, but I—”
Dropping my hands, I wrap them around her waist and lift her higher, my lips once again fused to hers.
Where they should be.
Where I hope they’ll stay for a long time to come.