Chapter 23
Bert woke slowly, awareness creeping in as his eyes remained shut. The room rocked gently. He was warm. Comfortable. He was in bed. On a boat. And absolutely not sleeping alone.
His eyes snapped open to find himself curled around Mary, one arm draped over her waist, his chest pressed against her side as she lay on her back.
It didn’t pass his notice that their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.
The gentle rocking of the ship had lulled him into the deepest sleep he’d had in months, and at some point during the night, he’d apparently abandoned staying on his side of the bed.
Panic flooded through him. He needed to move, to get out of this position before she woke and thought he was taking advantage.
But he was afraid to hurt her. He knew from their months of watching TV together on her couch that she could move her upper body without pain, that she had flexibility and strength in her arms and torso.
He also knew that she had a little feeling in her legs, but said there was no pain.
Even so, the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her. He didn’t want to jostle her roughly or put pressure on areas that might be sensitive or cause discomfort. Bert started to carefully untangle himself, but the moment he shifted, Mary stirred, her body tensing slightly as she woke.
“Bert?” Her voice was sleep-rough and soft.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, his voice low and mortified. “I didn’t mean to… I must have moved to your side during the night. I didn’t mean to crowd you or make you uncomfortable—”
In the dim morning light filtering through the window shade, Bert could see her clearly. Her hair was mussed from sleep, her face soft and unguarded, and when she offered a warm smile with a hint of shyness, Bert felt something in his chest crack open.
He was lost. Completely, irrevocably, no-doubt-about-it lost.
He’d known he cared about her and had admitted to himself months ago that he was falling in love with her.
But this moment, seeing her smile at him first thing in the morning, her blue eyes warm and accepting and maybe even pleased to find him wrapped around her—this was when he knew with absolute certainty that his heart was hers.
Had probably been hers since the moment she’d shaken his hand when they met and looked at him like he was someone worth seeing.
“Hey,” she said softly, her smile widening. “Did you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” Bert admitted, his voice rough. “I’m sorry about invading your space. I… um…”
“I’m not sorry.” Mary’s hand came up to rest on his chest, right over his racing heart. “I slept better with you here.”
They were so close. Inches apart in the small bed, their bodies aligned, her hand warm through his T-shirt. Bert could count the faint freckles across her nose, could see the flecks of gold in her blue eyes, could feel the rise and fall of her breathing.
He could kiss her if he wanted to. And God, he wanted to.
They lay there, staring at each other, the moment stretching and crystallizing into something that felt monumental. The ship rocked gently beneath them, morning light painted everything in soft gold, and Bert felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump.
“Bert,” Mary began, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes dropped to his mouth. “I want you—”
He erased the space, interrupting her as his lips barely grazed over hers.
It was a soft, tentative brush of lips that asked permission rather than demanding anything. Mary’s breath caught, her hand fisting in his T-shirt, and for a heartbeat, Bert thought he’d made a terrible mistake.
Then she kissed him back.
Her lips were soft and warm. She made a small sound in the back of her throat that sent heat flooding through Bert’s veins.
His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as he deepened the kiss slightly, still careful, still gentle, still giving her every opportunity to pull away if this wasn’t what she wanted.
But Mary didn’t pull away. She kissed him like she’d been waiting for this. Like she’d wanted it as much as he had and like all the months of careful friendship had been leading to exactly this moment.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder, Bert waited. He watched her face for any sign of regret or discomfort. Instead, Mary smiled at him, wide and bright and so beautiful it made his chest ache.
“I hope that wasn’t just for pretending,” she said, a hint of vulnerability beneath the lightness of her tone.
“Oh, no.” Bert’s voice came out rough and sincere. “That was all me. No pretending involved.”
Mary’s smile widened impossibly further, and Bert felt his heart, which had been heavy with caution and fear for so long, suddenly feel lighter than it had in years. Maybe lighter than it ever had.
“Good,” Mary said simply, her hand still fisted in his shirt like she was afraid he might disappear. “Because I’ve wanted you to do that for months.”
“Months?” Bert’s eyebrows rose. “You could have said something.”
“So could you.” Mary’s expression turned slightly accusatory. “We’ve been dancing around this for a long time, Bert. Both of us too scared to make the first move.”
“I was terrified of losing your friendship.”
“Me too.” She tugged on his shirt, pulling him closer. “But I think we’ve been more than friends for a while now. We just weren’t brave enough to admit it.”
“I’m admitting it now,” Bert said, his forehead resting against hers. “I care about you, Mary. More than I’ve cared about anyone. You’ve become essential to my life in a way that terrifies me and makes me happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Bert—”
“I know the timing is terrible,” he continued, needing to get this out.
“We’re in the middle of a situation, we’re sharing a tiny cabin, and we’re supposed to be focused on helping Diane.
But I need you to know that when I call you ‘sweetheart’ and hold your hand and look at you like you’re the most important person in my world…
well, I’m not acting. That’s real. That’s how I actually feel. ”
Mary’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “That’s how I feel too. About you. The fake engagement, pretending to be a couple… it’s not hard because it’s what I’ve been wishing for. Being able to touch you and have you close and act like we belong to each other? It doesn’t feel like a role at all.”
Bert kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring months of longing and hope into the connection. Mary responded with equal fervor, her hand sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.
When they finally broke apart, both flushed and breathing hard, Bert couldn’t help but grin. “We’re really doing this?”
“Define this,” she shot back, her brows raised.
He cupped her face again. “This is you and me. Friends. More than friends. Together.”
“Yeah,” Mary said on a long breath, still smiling and looking younger and lighter than he’d seen her in months.
“Though we should probably focus on the Colin situation and save the relationship conversation for when we’re not trying to figure out if there is anything going on or if all of this was my imagination. ”
“Practical as always,” Bert said fondly. “But yeah, you’re right. We’ve got work to do.”
Mary shifted in the bed, then pushed herself up to sit, and Bert immediately moved to assist, his hands gentle on her back.
“I can do it myself, you know,” she admonished softly.
“I know you can,” Bert said, moving to give her the space and support she needed without taking over. “But if I’m here, there’s no reason for me not to help. Let me be useful, Mary.”
Her expression eased. “Okay. But if I tell you to back off, you back off.”
“Deal.”
They worked together in the practiced synchronicity of people who’d spent months learning each other’s rhythms. Bert pulled her hands to help her sit fully upright, then moved her legs to the edge of the bed, carefully supporting but not controlling.
Mary reached for her wheelchair, which Bert held steady, and watched as she transferred with smooth efficiency.
She adjusted her position, lifted her legs to the footrests, then rolled toward the bathroom.
“I’m going to shower,” she called over her shoulder. “Make yourself at home. There’s coffee fixings on the desk if you want to make some.”
Bert watched her disappear into the bathroom, heard the water start, and finally allowed himself to process what had just happened. He’d kissed Mary. She’d kissed him back. They’d admitted feelings that had been building for months.
And he felt lighter than he had ever felt.
He made coffee using the small stateroom coffee maker the ship provided, then set about organizing his things.
His tactical bag went into the closet safe, his clothes into the small dresser, and his toiletries lined up neatly on the shelf for when it was his turn in the bathroom.
He pulled out his laptop and phone, checking for any updates from Logan or the team.
There was a text from Sadie. Canadian authorities are moving but slowly. Ship security is briefed and monitoring. Stay safe.
Bert replied. Roger that. Will check in tonight.
The bathroom door opened, and Mary emerged looking freshly showered and beautiful in comfortable pants and a soft sweater. Her hair was still damp, pulled back from her face, and she wasn’t wearing makeup, but Bert thought she’d never looked more gorgeous.
“Your turn,” she said, gesturing to the bathroom. “I left you some counter space.”
“Thanks.” Bert grabbed his toiletries and headed in, trying not to think about the fact that the small space still smelled like her shampoo, clean and floral and entirely distracting.
He showered quickly, and by the time he emerged, dressed and ready for the day, Mary had the coffee ready and was pulling up files on her tablet.