Chapter 22 #2
“So, Bert,” Colin said as they settled in, his tone friendly but his eyes sharp. “What do you do for work? Must be a flexible job to allow you to take off on short notice like this.”
“Security consulting,” Bert replied smoothly. “My boss is understanding, and I had vacation time saved up.”
“Security consulting? So do you two work together?” Colin’s interest seemed genuine, but Mary caught the flash of unease behind his pleasant expression. “That must be fascinating work. Do you travel much?”
“Yeah, we’re coworkers. And we do some international work.” Bert’s hand found Mary’s under the table, his fingers lacing with hers in a gesture that felt far too natural. “But I prefer to stay close to home when I can. Especially now that Mary and I are planning a wedding.”
Mary nearly choked on her water. A wedding. They were really committing to this cover story. She squeezed Bert’s hand, partly in thanks for the solid support and partly to ground herself in the surreal situation.
“Have you set a date?” Diane asked, and her enthusiasm seemed genuine. Diane looked more alert than she had that morning, and her eyes were certainly bright and engaged. But there was something almost manic about her energy, like she was trying too hard to appear normal.
“Not yet,” Mary said, finding her voice. “We’ve been so busy with work that we haven’t had time to plan properly. This trip was supposed to give me time off work to think about what I wanted.”
“And what you wanted was me here with you,” Bert said, his voice low and intimate. The way he looked at her made Mary’s breath catch. “Which is exactly where I belong.”
Colin’s expression remained pleasant, but Mary saw his jaw tighten slightly. He didn’t like this development. Whether because Bert’s presence interfered with whatever he was planning for Diane, or because he’d been enjoying having Mary’s attention as part of their small group, she couldn’t tell.
The meal progressed with light conversation, the kind of getting-to-know-you small talk that happened when strangers shared a table.
But Mary was hyperaware of Colin’s behavior, cataloging every detail.
The way he cut Diane’s meat without being asked, as if she couldn’t handle it herself.
The way he refilled her water glass and subtly moved her wine away, limiting her alcohol intake in a gesture that looked caring but felt controlling.
The way his eyes kept tracking back to Bert, assessing the threat this new presence represented.
Diane continued to seem bright and engaged, laughing at appropriate moments and contributing to the conversation.
But something was off about it, something Mary couldn’t quite define.
The older woman seemed to be performing normalcy rather than experiencing it, working too hard to appear alert and engaged.
“Are you feeling better?” Mary asked during a lull in conversation. “You seemed tired this morning.”
“Oh, I’m fine now!” Diane’s smile was wide, almost too wide. “Colin was right, I just needed rest. I feel wonderful. Ready to enjoy the rest of the trip.”
“She tends to overdo it,” Colin said with fond concern. “She wants to see and do everything, but she needs to pace herself. Don’t you, Aunt Diane?”
“Yes, dear. You’re quite right.” Diane’s agreement was immediate, almost automatic, and Mary saw Bert’s hand tighten on his fork.
After dinner, passengers dispersed to various activities.
A lecture on maritime history was held in the library, a movie screening was in the lounge, and more card games were just off the upper deck.
But Mary was ready to head to the stateroom.
For her, pretending all evening was exhausting, and she wanted time alone with Bert to coordinate what they needed to do.
Bert left to have a private and brief conversation with ship security before returning to the dining room.
Finally, they were able to retreat to Mary’s cabin.
The moment the door closed behind them, the easy intimacy of their act dropped away, replaced by professional assessment and the awkwardness of the situation they’d created.
“Okay,” Bert said, looking around the stateroom. “This is... cozy.” His duffel had been placed near the closet.
Mary felt heat creep up her neck. The room that had seemed spacious when it was just her suddenly felt much smaller, with his solid presence filling it. “The bed is big enough for both of us if you don’t mind sharing. Or I can sleep on the sofa—”
“No.” He cut her off firmly. “You’re not sleeping on the sofa. We’ll figure out the sleeping arrangements, but that’s not what’s going to happen.”
“Okay.” She took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “So. Fiancé.”
“Fiancé,” he repeated, and something flickered across his face too quick for her to read.
She sighed. “I’m sorry about the cover story. It just popped out. It seemed to give legitimacy to you hurrying to my side.”
“It was good thinking on your part. Gives me a reason to be close to you, to stay alert to threats, without making Colin suspicious.”
“That was the idea.” Mary moved to the balcony door, looking out at the harbor lights reflecting on dark water. “Though I probably should have discussed it with you first rather than just announcing it to everyone.”
“I’m not complaining.” Bert’s voice was closer than she expected, and she turned to find him standing right beside her chair. “The role comes... naturally.”
Their eyes met, and Mary’s breath caught at the intensity in his gaze. This wasn’t acting. Whatever was happening between them right now, in the privacy of her stateroom, had nothing to do with cover stories and everything to do with months of unspoken feelings finally bubbling to the surface.
“Bert—” she started, not sure what she was going to say.
“We should focus on Colin.” He stepped back to give her space even though everything in his expression said he wanted to do the opposite. “Tell me everything you’ve observed. Every detail, no matter how small.”
Mary let out a long breath, grateful for the return to professional territory even as part of her ached at the interrupted moment.
She walked Bert through Diane’s confusion about finances, Colin’s control over her medications and room key, George’s convenient food poisoning, and the isolation tactics she’d witnessed.
Bert listened intently, asking sharp questions that showed he understood the gravity of what she was describing. When she finished, he pulled out his phone and showed her the information Sadie had compiled on Colin’s history with the changes to Diane’s accounts.
“Logan’s coordinating with Canadian authorities,” Bert said. “But these things take time. In the meantime, we watch, document, and keep both you and Diane safe.”
“And how do we do that without alerting Colin that we’re onto him?”
“By being exactly what we told everyone we are.” Bert’s expression was serious, but his eyes held warmth. “An engaged couple enjoying a cruise. We document everything we observe, and let Logan know what we witness.”
“And at night?” Mary asked, then immediately regretted the question when she saw heat flash through Bert’s eyes.
“At night, I can sleep on the floor or on the sofa,” he said. “You get the bed. And we figure out how to navigate sharing a very small space without making things weird between us.”
“It’s already weird between us,” Mary said softly. “Has been for months.”
Bert’s gaze sharpened. “Mary—”
A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was about to say. They both tensed, falling back into professional mode. Bert moved to answer while Mary positioned her wheelchair where she could see but not be immediately visible from the hallway.
It was a crew member with fresh towels and a bottle of champagne. “Compliments of the ship,” the young man said with a smile. “For the newly reunited couple. Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you,” Bert said, accepting both with a nod. He closed the door and set the items on the desk, then turned to Mary with an expression that was equal parts amused and frustrated.
“I think we’ve committed to this cover story pretty thoroughly,” he said with a grin.
“I think you’re right.” Mary chuckled, looking at the champagne. “Bert, I’m sorry if this is awkward.”
“Don’t apologize.” He moved closer, kneeling again so they were eye level. “Mary, being here with you, playing this role… It’s not awkward. Or maybe it is, but not for the reasons you think.”
“What do you mean?”
His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone in a gesture so tender it made her eyes sting. “I mean that pretending to be your fiancé is probably the easiest role I’ve ever played. Because it doesn’t feel like pretending at all.”
Mary’s heart stuttered.
“We should get some rest,” he said, pulling back before she could form a coherent response. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow, we need to be alert. I’ll take the sofa—”
He was retreating, pulling back from whatever moment they’d almost had.
And Mary almost let him because he was right.
They had a job to do. Diane needed their help.
Colin needed to be stopped. But the words slipped out.
“No. This bed is big enough for both of us. It’s not like we’re teenagers who can’t share a space without turning it into something…
um… more. If you take that side, I’ll be closer to my chair. ”
She forced her voice to remain steady, hoping he didn’t see how she was fighting to remain neutral when she really wanted to scream, “Can we stop pretending there’s not something between us?” She held his gaze, her breathing coming easier when he finally nodded.
Letting out a long breath, she announced, “I’ll take the bathroom first.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and rolled to the drawers to retrieve her nightclothes, then rolled into the bathroom and shut the door.
She focused on getting through her evening routine and not on the man just outside the door.
Only partially successful in that endeavor, she looked in the mirror, mumbled, “You got this,” and then straightened her back and rolled out from the bathroom in her pajamas and robe with her head held high.
She couldn’t help but notice Bert’s eyes moved over her as though cataloging every detail.
He quickly headed into the bathroom for a shower, and she shifted from her chair into the bed. While lying there and staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t stop thinking about his words. It doesn’t feel like pretending at all.
Tomorrow, they’d watch Colin, document evidence, and even keep an eye on George.
What if I was wrong and Colin is just Diane’s sole living heir, doing nothing wrong?
What if he’s just trying to protect Diane from someone wanting to take advantage of her?
What if I’ve blown all this up in my mind and there really isn’t a problem?
And tomorrow? Tomorrow, we’ll continue playing the role of a devoted couple for the other passengers.
The bathroom door opened, and she jerked out of her musings. Their gazes locked onto each other, and the temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket.
He walked over and checked the stateroom door, ensuring it was locked. He placed his clothes on the sofa, then looked back over at the bed.
A nervous giggle slipped out, and he lifted a brow in silent question.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to keep from laughing again. “You and I sit on the sofa at home all the time, curled up together watching scary movies. Honestly, this is no different. You have your side of the bed, and I have mine. It’ll be fine.”
His brow stayed raised, but he grinned as he nodded.
He walked around to the side nearest the wall and paused at the nightstand.
Mary watched as he reached up to his left ear with practiced movements.
His fingers found the small flesh-colored hearing aid that was barely visible even when you knew to look for it.
He gently removed it, and she realized it was the first time she’d actually seen it.
The tiny device fit almost entirely within his ear canal, and Mary had learned over the months that most people never even noticed Bert wore it.
He handled it with the kind of careful attention that spoke of years of routine, opening a small case on the nightstand and placing the hearing aid inside.
Then he pulled out a soft cloth and wiped the device clean before closing the case with a quiet click.
“Battery should be good through tomorrow,” he murmured, more to himself than to her, checking the small indicator light on the case that showed the hearing aid was charging properly.
It was such an intimate thing to witness. This small nightly ritual was as much a part of Bert as brushing his teeth or setting his alarm. The vulnerability of removing the device that helped him navigate the world, trusting Mary enough to let her see this moment.
“If you need to tell me something in the night, just shake me awake. Without the hearing aid, I won’t hear much from my left ear.” Bert’s voice was casual, but Mary caught the hint of self-consciousness beneath it.
“I’ll remember,” she replied softly, touched that he trusted her to be comfortable enough to sleep without his hearing aid even though it meant being more vulnerable.
He slipped under the covers, settling on his left side so his good ear was toward the room. They lay there, neither moving, with a foot of empty space between them. Finally, with Bert’s steady breathing filling the small space, Mary let out a long sigh.
She thought of tomorrow and wondered what would happen when they were both done pretending.