Beneath the Waves

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

And So It Goes by Billy Joel

April 14, 1912

The sound of the dinner bugle snaps me out of my trance. Ben and John walk over to escort us back to our cabins to get ready for dinner. The last supper . I’m dreading an evening stuck at Edward’s table when I want to savor every moment that I can with Charlie.

Ben talks about the shuffleboard games the entire way back to the cabin. He’s very excited that he’s finally gotten the hang of it and is winning consistently. His mood seems much more relaxed than our conversation earlier. I hear him, but my mind is somewhere else. I’m not sure if he’s genuinely excited about shuffleboard or if he’s trying to fill the space between us with lighthearted conversation. Are we just avoiding how things went earlier?

We enter through the sitting room entrance of our suite and Ben immediately kicks off his shoes and plops down into a chair.

“So I set the trap for Edward last night.” He sounds proud of himself, almost smug. I’m hoping this means that I was right somehow.

“And?”

“And you’re a genius, Al. He took the bait instantly. He’s running all kinds of schemes. He’s hiding money in other accounts, so it’s untouchable. I told him about the underperforming hotel and he suggested an accidental fire that would allow me to recoup the insurance money. He even suggested it would be far more believable to be an accident if it happened during the daytime when employees were present. He’s an absolute swine.”

I can’t say I’m surprised that he’s scheming and manipulating his way to the bank, but being willing to sacrifice innocent people for his own gain, that's a new low, even for him.

“What an asshole,” I say with disgust.

Ben glances at his pocket watch. “Shit, I’ve gotta get ready for dinner.” He gets up and walks through my room toward his cabin. He’s gone before I can bring up this morning's confrontation. I don’t want to keep digging this issue back up or opening the same wounds over and over, but I feel like we need to talk about it. It’s not enough to just move on and ignore the elephant in the corner of the room. We need to address it. Are we really going to just act like nothing happened? Is this how it’s going to be now? We’ll just pretend we didn’t say the most hurtful things possible to each other?

When I enter my room, Sarah is waiting with a gown laid out for me. The under dress is an emerald green silk. The lace over dress is emerald with ornate crystal beading. It has sheer lace sleeves and a black satin sash around the waist. It is truly exquisite, and it is one of the first dresses I feel genuinely like myself in. She helps me slip on black satin gloves.

I sit and wait for Ben to be ready for dinner. I look at the clock on the table and grow impatient. I just want to get this over with, and I assumed he would be ready by now. He’s the benefactor of not having to wear multiple layers of undergarments and have his hair intricately styled. He finally knocks at the adjoining door and enters as he finishes fastening his cuff links.

He smiles at me, but then looks at Sarah. “You ready?” She nods and seems to smirk. I look around, confused. Where’s she going? They’re up to something. He looks back at me and smiles. “Oh, you’re not going to dinner, Al. At least not in the dining room.”

“What?” I stare at him, puzzled, before he walks over to me, taking my hands in his. What is going on?

“Look, I know time is running out. I can’t give you much. But I can give you this. I’ve arranged for you to have dinner here on our private promenade. I’ll tell everyone you caught too much sun today or something, should be easy enough.” Ben pauses for a moment. “Charlie is on his way.”

I was not expecting this, especially after everything that happened this morning. “You set up a date for me?” I blink rapidly, unable to comprehend his gesture.

He smiles sheepishly and nods. “Well yeah, but Sarah and Eric helped too. Eric coordinated the room service with the stewards and Sarah delivered my message to Charlie.”

“I can’t believe you all did this for me.” I am almost at a loss for words and I can feel the tears coming into my eyes. “Thank you.” I suddenly feel nervous about this date, which I don’t fully understand considering the intimacy of last night. I excitedly pull off the evening gloves. There's no need for such formality in my room. I’m not sure how Ben pulled this off, but I am grateful.

A dining room steward delivers the food to the cabin and Sarah and Eric quickly set a table on the promenade for us, leaving Ben and I alone in the sitting room.

“I can’t believe you did this for me. I thought after this morning that you were angry with me.”

“I was. I was angry with you. I was so fucking angry. I felt like you betrayed me, betrayed all of us, by doing all this. By pursuing this relationship, and telling him everything. It made me even angrier that you didn’t tell me. That hurt me the most.”

“Ben, I’m…” I try to apologize.

“And I thought about it all day. Literally all day . Honestly, my squash game was horrible this morning because of you.” He laughs, trying to break the tension. “But what I realized is that my anger wasn’t that you didn’t tell me, it’s that you didn’t think you could. You thought you had to go through this alone. That’s what truly angered me. You finally fell for someone, and you couldn’t tell your best friend. I hate that you felt that way. Even more, I hate that I made you feel that way.”

“You didn’t, Ben. It was all me. I was trying to protect you. And it was wrong. I know that now. Trust me, I wanted to tell you a thousand times.”

“I’m always in your corner, Ali. I don’t care what you do, you’re my family. That shit’s unconditional. That’s why I set this whole thing up.”

“Why?”

Tears shimmer in his eyes as he takes my hands in his. “Because once I realized I couldn’t pull you back from the ledge, I figured the best thing I could do was jump with you and hold your hand on the way down.”

I feel my eyes welling up, overcome with emotion, and I pull Ben into my arms. “Thank you,” I gratefully whisper in his ear as I tightly grip him. He may never fully understand what this all means to me, this gesture, his friendship.

Ben steps back, deeply exhales, and smiles. “Okay, tell me about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“We missed this before. It’s what I should have asked you instead of being angry. But I’m asking now. Tell me everything. What’s it like?”

“It’s… it’s kind of like my soul recognizes his. It’s like we belonged to each other before we ever even met. I don’t know. I’ve never felt like this before. He just makes me feel brave. I can share the deepest, darkest parts of me, and instead of a fear of being vulnerable, I just feel honest, safe, and bold. Whenever I’m with him, time feels suspended, as if nothing else exists but us. I just look at him and feel like I’m home.”

Ben laughs in shock. “Wow.”

“What?” He must think this all sounds crazy.

“You’re not just in love, Ali. You’re really in love.”

I blush and smile, a full smile, from ear to ear. “I am, Ben.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I... I…”

A soft knock at the door interrupts us. Perhaps that is for the best. I don’t know how to answer Ben’s question. I don’t know if I am going to tell Charlie how I feel. Part of me doesn’t see the point. It won’t change anything. Titanic will sink by morning and I’ll be back in Boston. Telling him I love him won’t stop any of that from happening. I think I’m scared that he won’t have the same feelings. I know we’ve shared something special these last few days, but I don’t know if he sees it the way I do, and I’m afraid to find out.

Ben grabs both my arms and looks me over. He smiles with a face full of pride, before nodding at Eric to open the door.

Charlie steps into the cabin as Eric and Sarah step out, leaving just Ben and I. Charlie smiles at me. His smile is always magnificent, but this one is magical.

“You’re beautiful,” he says as he walks toward me and takes my hand in his. Ben smiles to himself and walks toward the door to leave. He stops in front of Charlie and puts his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie looks him in the eyes. There’s a silent communication of respect between them. “Thank you, Ben.”

The door closes behind Ben, leaving just the two of us. Charlie smiles, straightens his posture, and clears his throat before extending his arm out to me.

“Miss Alice, may I escort you to dinner?” His tone is a comical parody of the formality of the first-class passengers.

“Oh, I would be delighted,” I respond, matching his theatrics. I happily take his arm and walk out to our private promenade. A selection of food from tonight’s menu, including filet, lamb, potatoes, asparagus, and fresh peaches, is arranged on a small table.

He pulls my chair out for me. It’s an act of chivalry I’ve grown used to this week, though it comes across as more sincere from him than it did from Edward. His eyes grow wide at the sight of the feast before us. “I haven’t had a meal like this in years.”

I smile, but also feel a reminder of how privileged my time on the ship has been. While lower classes dine on basics like bread and stew, I’ve eaten ten course meals with wine pairings.

I’m able to be more myself in his presence, especially now that the truth is out in the open between us. I relax my posture slightly and have my elbows on the table. Charlie unbuttons his jacket and sits down across from me. I pull the crystal comb out of my hair and let my brown waves fall loosely to my shoulders.

He scoops potatoes onto his plate as I pour us both wine. “I cook a lot at home, actually. Not anything this fancy, but I do pretty well. Ben seems to like it at least. I taught myself to cook when I was eight so I could take care of Dad. He was hopeless in the kitchen.” I laugh to myself, remembering the time Dad scorched the ceiling in the kitchen one Thanksgiving trying to make us a traditional dinner. We ended up with takeout Chinese food that year and watched The Wizard of Oz . It was the best holiday I can remember.

Charlie smiles, as if fondly recalling a memory. “I used to watch my mum cook. She made the most amazing roasts. It’s the thing I remember most about her, how much she loved to cook. She always gave me the best piece of crackling off the pork, even though it was her favorite part, too.”

“What about your father?”

Charlie hesitates, and I can see the pain in his face. “He… he did his best. When Mum was alive, the three of us did everything together. He taught me everything he knew about carpentry, and it was the plan that I’d take over the shop when they got older. When she passed, he and I were never the same. I take after her so much. I think looking at me was too hard for him. Part of him died when she did, and I was just a reminder of what he had lost. He closed down the shop. He couldn’t bring himself to make furniture anymore. Everything she loved he just shut out, including me. He did odd jobs to make ends meet and took up drinking heavily to pretend he wasn’t so lonely. I struggled with how much he changed. He was so angry. I was angry too. I was furious he sold the shop without even telling me. It felt like my entire life plan got tossed away without a care. Eventually, I grew tired of it, and I joined the White Star Line and started working on ships. I just wanted to get away. Far away. I was at sea when I found out he’d died. I’ll always regret that… not being there when he needed me most.”

“Charlie, I’m so sorry.” I stroke his hand gently. It breaks my heart that he felt like his father didn’t love him just because he was so similar to his mother, though I had similar feelings growing up from time to time. Physically I take after Dad. I have a lot of his features, and obviously my eyes are from his side. But he always told me a lot of my mannerisms are textbook Katherine. I have to wonder if that was hard for him. To be faced every day with a living reminder of the person who left you. It is a slight comfort to me that although our lives are quite different, Charlie and I have taken a similar path regarding the complicated relationships with our parents.

“It’s alright, love.” He smiles, but it's a sad smile. “I’ve made my peace with it. I choose to remember him now as she would have, when it was just the three of us.”

“She would be so proud of the man you are, Charlie.” He smiles, and I can tell that means the world to him. I squeeze his hand. “And I know your father would be too.” Charlie’s eyes glisten with the tiniest flecks of tears.

He clears his throat to compose himself. “What do you remember about your mother?”

“Not much, really. I was four when she left.” I exhale, tilting my head back and forth. I’m trying to think of something I remember about her that isn’t specifically linked to the day she left. “Although I suppose I remember little things, fragments of memories. She was beautiful, stylish, and fiercely independent. It’s silly, but I remember her perfume. It smelled like lilies. I used to watch her get ready in the morning and sometimes she’d lightly spritz me with her perfume, and I thought that made me so grown up and sophisticated.” I chuckle to myself as I place two fingers on my forehead and trace my eyebrows. “God, I haven’t thought about this in years. But sometimes, when I think about her, I swear I can smell her perfume. That’s crazy, right?”

“Not at all. I understand it completely. Sometimes, when I’m all alone, I feel like I can close my eyes and smell London. The wet pavement, the smoky air, the smell of a soccer pitch, I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I think sometimes, when a memory is really strong or meaningful, we wrap everything into it. The smells included, you know?” He nods in agreement. “What do you miss most about London?”

“Easy: the food.” He laughs as he points his fork down toward his plate. “But sometimes I also just miss going home to the same thing every night, you know? I like life on the sea well enough, but I miss having a home. What about you? What do you miss most about home?”

Home . If he had asked me that a few days ago, my answer would have been so different. I’d miss small luxuries, like the internet or my coffee maker. But after these last few days with Charlie, it’s hard to answer what I miss about home when home is what I see when I look at him. I look into his eyes and feel like I’m exactly where I should be. Home is the space between his arms. I try to think of another answer, something without my powerful feelings attached. I suppose I could say I miss my work, or my house, or Bruins hockey games. But after a few days aboard this ship, in this century, the answer is more meaningful.

“My liberty.” I pause for a moment before continuing. I know we grew up in different times, with different customs, and that some freedoms I am used to having may be hard for him to understand. “I have freedom over my voice, my body, my entire life. I have an education, a career, and I own my home. I vote and I make my own choices. I don’t need anyone’s permission to do the things I want to do. I’ve taken that liberty for granted. This week has surely shown me that. Does it bother you if I talk about this?”

“Not at all. I like you like this.” He listens intently, soaking in everything I say.

“What do you mean, like this ?”

“When you’re Alice. Just Alice.” He sits back in his chair, almost as if he’s marveling at me. I feel so relaxed in his presence. It’s like the truest, most honest version of me is safe to exist with him.

“You know, I’ve spent a lot of time this week with my great-great-grandmother talking about the expectations put upon women and the confines they live in, and it’s made me realize something about my mom.”

“What’s that, love?”

“I’ve been trying to make her the villain in my story for so long, and maybe she is. But I guess I never stopped to consider that maybe she was a victim too. I think what I’ve learned is that both things can exist side by side. She was clear that she didn’t want children, that it wasn’t the life she saw for herself. They got pregnant with me by accident, and her family's expectation was that she would wed and do things according to what they saw as the proper way. And she tried. I really think she did. I’ve always thought her leaving was because of the contempt she had for me, like resentment for the life I stole from her. But maybe… maybe it was love? Maybe she loved me enough to realize she couldn’t give me what I needed or deserved?” My voice shakes, years of suppressed feelings finally bubbling to the surface. “That’s what I believe. That’s what I choose to believe. And honestly, I think I… I…”

“What, Alice?” Charlie’s voice is soft and concerned. He instinctively grabs my hand.

“I forgive her.” I lean back in my chair, surprised at the words that I’ve just said.

Fuck . This must be what Dr. Kassen’s epiphany felt like the day she finally got me to explode. The lightbulb went off. It’s as if I’ve been in a darkened tunnel for years, trudging through, never knowing when it will end, and then suddenly there’s light. There’s a way out. It all makes sense. I can finally let the pain go. I didn’t need any kind of revenge or confrontation. I just needed to understand and forgive.

Charlie was right. I am enough. I can see it now as clearly as the magnificent man sitting across from me, with pride bursting from his eyes.

“Fuck,” I laugh quietly with surprise, wiping a tear from my eye. I am not healed, or cured, or anything grand and miraculous. But this is something I now know how to live with, not run away from or ignore. My pain is a part of me. It broke me to pieces, but those shards have been put back together, like a stained glass window. The glass is broken, the cracks are clear to see, but they are rearranged into the most beautiful kaleidoscope of colors. And aren’t we all broken in some aspect or another? What I’ve learned this week is that it’s okay to be broken. It’s okay to feel lost or overwhelmed. Life is hard. I don’t need to have all the answers. It’s okay to not have a brave face on all the time. Take it off. Let it rest. Let yourself rest. Cry. Scream. It’s okay to let yourself fall apart, because putting yourself back together is what makes life beautiful. The past will only control me if I let it. I’ve learned to let go of what I should have done and focus on what I can do. Just show up and try. It’s that simple. Just keep trying.

“Do you think you’ll ever try to find her again?”

“Honestly?” I shake my head. “No. I think a part of me will always want to have some kind of relationship with her, or some kind of resolution. I’ll always want to know her. And I’ll always want her to want to know me. But now, I realize I don’t need to know her. If you live your life looking for closure, you’re not really living it, are you? I used to think I needed some finality with her to close that door and move on with my life. But I don’t think it was ever about her. It’s always been me. I can’t rely on anyone else to make me feel better, or healthier, or more complete. I had to find it for myself.” I straighten my posture slightly. “And in forgiving her, I’ve realized I had to forgive my dad too, which was far more complicated because I didn’t even realize I was angry with him. That’s something I’m only realizing now after talking with you. I’ve never told anyone all this before.”

“Well, I’m glad you are. You can tell me anything, Alice.”

I feel empowered to keep laying my heart on the table. He makes my pain feel safe in his hands and, for once, I actually want to talk about all this.

“I think I felt like I was a monster if I had anger toward him. When everything happened with my mom, he stayed. He picked up the pieces. I put him on this pedestal because he was the parent that didn’t leave. But I’m realizing now that even though he didn’t physically leave, he wasn’t emotionally there either. He was at every school function or soccer game, but he always had a case file in his lap. He probably missed the best part of my piano solos and most of the goals I ever scored just because he wasn’t looking up. He was there, but he wasn’t present , you know? That’s the thing about my childhood that hurt the most. Feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere, or to anyone. Mom left. I didn’t belong to her. Dad stayed, but he never fully let me in. We existed together, our lines parallel but never crossing. The loneliness of being alone I could manage. But having someone with me and still feeling lonely? God, that almost killed me.”

Charlie refills the glasses of wine and raises his eyes to meet mine. “It’s understandable though, Alice. You stopped everything to take care of him when your mother left. It’s natural to be angry at him. You were a child. You resent him for the loss of your innocence. I know he stayed, but you’re still allowed to feel like he failed you. You can be angry and grateful, Alice. You need to give yourself the space to be both.”

“You’re right. Sometimes it feels like we went to a restaurant. They ordered the most expensive things on the menu and then walked out. But I’m still sitting at the table trying to find a way to pay for the bill. They both loaded me up with as much trauma as possible, and then left me to figure out how to fix it.” I laugh to myself, surprised at how honest and fluid this conversation has been. “You know, normally conversation doesn’t get this deep and emotional on a first date. Though I suppose we have a pass on that for special circumstances.”

“What is a date like in your time, then?”

I laugh. “Well, it’s a lot different from here. Not that I have gone on a lot of them. But there’s no courting or chaperones. I guess the stereotype is dinner and a movie, drinks and dancing, that sort of thing.”

“I’m sorry we don’t have any music in here.” He looks disappointed.

“This is perfect.” I reassure him with a smile. This night with him is enough. I don’t need any of that. I pause for a moment and quickly realize I actually can remedy the situation. “Wait, hold on, I may have something.” I get up and walk over to my trunk. He follows me curiously. I open my lockbox and see it: my phone. “I forgot I brought this.” I pull it out and he stares at it with a confused expression.

“What is it?” His eyes carefully examine the phone before looking back at me.

I chuckle to myself. How can I explain something that is so simple to me but probably seems so complicated to Charlie?

“Well, it’s a telephone, but also a computer, I suppose.”

“A computer?” His brow turns quizzical.

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” I laugh.

He smirks. “Harder than this already is? Explain it to me. I’ll try to keep up.”

“Alright. A computer is an electronic device that stores data. In the future, we use them for information, communication, entertainment, just about everything really. Make sense?”

“Hardly, but I trust you.” Charlie laughs as he struggles to understand. It’s like I’m speaking a completely foreign language to him.

Obviously I won’t have any kind of service, but the battery should allow me to access my stored music. I run my finger down to the power button, press, and wait. The screen lights up, and Charlie’s eyes follow.

“Remarkable.”

“What music would you like?”

He nods his head toward the phone. “You pick. I doubt I would know anything.”

I have a wide mix of music that I listen to during any given mood, but I know much of it isn’t suitable right now. I don’t think I need to shock him with my music library. I scroll through the options, looking for something slow. Something that would encapsulate this moment. I turn up the volume and make my selection. “And So It Goes” by Billy Joel starts to play.

I set the phone down on the table and turn toward Charlie and extend my arms out to him. “Shall we?”

He suddenly looks nervous. “What do I do?”

“Here, put your hand right here.” I take one of his hands and place it around the small of my back. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Give me your other hand.” I take it and hold it in mine, and rest my head down onto his chest.

I can feel Charlie unsure of his footwork. His body is stiff and I can tell he’s trying to count box steps in his head.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s not a waltz. You don’t have to step like that. Just relax and sway.”

I feel Charlie relax his body against me and move back and forth, calmly swaying to the piano as Billy Joel’s tenor voice floods the room.

For a short time, I forget we’re aboard a doomed ocean liner. Time stands still and I forget that our time together is quickly running out. It’s just us, locked together, in this perfect moment. I hold him tighter and breathe him in. I never want to forget this. I feel his heart beat against my chest and I’ve never felt more at home than I do in his arms.

It feels as though I’m hearing the song for the first time, or maybe just finally truly understanding it. Billy Joel sings a mournful ballad about a relationship that, although doomed to end, was entirely worth the pain. I have spent my life guarding my heart, hoping to never be hurt again. And I know that within hours, my heart will be broken. But for it to break means it still works. Charlie may be capable of breaking my heart, but he’s revived it. He’s brought me back to life. And at the end of these magical few days we’ve spent together, I would do it all again. Even knowing my heart would shatter at the end of the journey, any measure of time with him is worth it. And if the choice were mine to make, I would choose to be with Charlie. I would choose him a thousand times over.

As the song wanes, Charlie looks down at me. His eyes are gentle and adoring, but I can tell he’s putting on a brave face for me. He tenderly brushes a curl out of my face and smiles before kissing me deeply.

“This isn’t fair. We need more time.” My eyes well up at the thought of what’s coming.

Charlie cups my face and gently caresses my cheek, wiping away the tear that's fallen. “I know, love. But we’ve had more time than I could have dreamed of. And it’s been perfect.”

I look across the room at the clock on the end table. It’s almost eleven. Titanic will hit the iceberg around eleven forty and descend to the ocean floor less than three hours later.

I look back up at Charlie, intent on savoring this moment. I study his face, hoping to etch it into my memory.

“I’ve spent my life putting up walls, Charlie. I’ve created armor around myself so no one could hurt me. I didn’t let anyone in. I was too afraid. Until I met you.”

“Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“When this is all over, don’t put them back up.”

I nod as tears form in the corners of my eyes.

Charlie gently takes my chin between his thumb and pointer finger and tilts my face up toward his.

“Promise me, love.”

“I promise, Charlie.” I put my head back down on his chest and hold him tighter.

His voice and the comfort I feel looking into his eyes have a calming effect on me. I never want to forget those eyes. I look back over at my phone on the table and have a sudden realization.

I step back and look up at Charlie. “Can I ask for a favor?” He nods affirmatively, but seems curious about what I could be asking for.

I walk to the table and grab my phone. “Could I take a photo of you?” I don’t want to rely only on memories once I’m alone again. Not when I can have something tangible too. Something to remind me this was real and not just a dream.

“With that?” He looks at me, puzzled. “I thought you said it’s a telephone.”

“And a computer. And also… a camera.”

He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, impressed at the technology. I open the camera feature and point it toward him. He immediately straightens his posture and folds his hands together, standing still, waiting. He doesn’t realize cameras in my time are instantaneous. He doesn't need to hold a stoic pose.

I peer around the side of the phone. “Hey, you can smile, you know. It only takes a second. It’s not like your photography.”

He laughs, and I immediately tap the button to capture that laugh. I take multiple photos, capturing every candid movement. “Here, look.” I turn the phone toward him so he can see for himself and I swipe through each photo.

“That’s incredible. How does it work? Let me take one of you.”

I show him how to hold it and what to press. I step back and smile at him.

“I think I did it?” He laughs at himself as he holds the phone up awkwardly.

I take the phone from him and open the photo. It’s actually a good picture of me. I’m usually over critical of photos of myself, but I look genuinely happy. I will cherish these photos over any that I’ve taken of the ship all week. I put the phone back into my lockbox and rejoin Charlie out on the promenade. He’s standing at the open window, watching the waves pass by. I feel a dagger of guilt in my chest, wondering what he’s thinking about. He hears me approach and slips his arm around my waist, pulling me in close to him. We stand there silently for a moment before a thought comes to me.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Charlie turns his body toward me. “Of course.”

I exhale deeply, part of me not wanting to know the answer to this. “I realize I put you through a lot this week—”

“Alice, you—”

“Yes, I did.” I appreciate he wants to spare me any more guilt. I know what we’ve shared this week is special, but I also know that I’ve caused a lot of damage. “I have put you through a lot. I’ve lied to you. I’ve hurt you. I’ve burdened you with the truth of what will happen tonight. Knowing what you know now, do you wish you’d stayed on the Olympic?”

“Not at all.” He says it effortlessly, as if it took him no thought at all.

“Really? Why?”

“Because it got me you.”

“But I’m just…”

“Wonderful.” Charlie gently brushes my hair behind my ear. “You’re wonderful.”

“But you know what’s going to happen.”

He takes me into his arms, his eyes locked on mine. “And? I’d rather die tomorrow than go a lifetime without finding you.”

He kisses me deeply, with one hand around my back and the other on my neck, tracing my jawline with his fingers. I hear the entrance door to our sitting room open, interrupting the passionate moment, and I realize Ben has returned with Sarah and Eric.

There’s a soft knock at the adjoining door to my cabin. “Ali? You decent?”

“On the promenade,” I call out, giving him the all clear to enter the room.

Ben enters, with Sarah and Eric behind him. He looks around at my room and seems surprised at how tidy it is. It’s almost as if he expected to walk into another unmade bed and the two of us half dressed. It was tempting, but I wanted to spend every moment with Charlie, listening to his voice and studying his face.

Ben motions toward the open windows. “How’s it look out there?”

I now realize why Charlie keeps looking out the window. He’s looking for the iceberg. Charlie glances back toward Ben, before stepping out of the way so he can see. “Hard to see anything out there,” Charlie responds.

“How was dinner?”

“You didn’t miss much. Just Edward’s usual bullshit,” Ben replies as he stares out the window before looking back over at me. “He missed you, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did,” I say sarcastically. I’m standing up against Charlie with his arms wrapped around my waist, but I can feel him laugh into my neck.

The five of us laugh together. It’s a shared moment of humor that is interrupted by the slightest vibration beneath my feet.

I look at Ben, and we share a realization. Titanic just hit the iceberg.