Chapter One #3
Andrew
I still feel like a complete klutz from the events at lunch. My only hope is that she or her husband doesn’t write a bad review. There was no indication that I was a crew member or even associated with the cruise line, so I hope she thinks I was just another passenger not paying attention.
As I make my way to the bridge for our departure, I realize I need to find another distraction quickly. She was so naturally attractive, no makeup, very girl-next-door-like. But those piercing blue eyes, fuck me! Plus, her sense of humor, cute smile, and body that would get me in some serious trouble are all the things that keep running through my head. See, I need a distraction because thinking of a married woman like that makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. I use my key card to bypass several doors marked “Crew Only”
and make my way to the room where only a select group of people are allowed, the bridge.
“Good afternoon, Captain,”
I announce as I walk on the bridge.
Other crew members pause and are startled as I’m not in a uniform and certainly not recognized. Any security concerns or issues are quickly dissipated when Pieter jumps in to greet me.
“Welcome to the bridge, Mr. Russo,”
he replies .
Even though we are certainly casual enough for first names, in this setting, the tone he wants to convey and the respect he is modeling are very much appreciated. He is also honoring my request for a “low-key” visit.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Russo will be our guest throughout the duration of this cruise. He may join us from time to time on the bridge, so please make him feel welcome,”
Pieter orders.
The ship starts to move, and I notice the pilot ships out in front of the bow, guiding us out of port. I can hear the faint sound of music from the deck below as the sail-away party has begun. I’m sure Ally is getting all the guests amped up. Beeps, static radio chatter, and the low hum of the engines fill the space. Pieter gives several orders regarding speed and direction, and his officers respond accordingly.
There genuinely is nothing like taking a ship from port to the open sea. Navigating between the other docked ships and buoys, then gradually building speed as you set your course to open waters, is exhilarating. An hour after departure, the buildings in downtown Fort Lauderdale have faded, and we can only see the glow of the coastline behind us.
“Okay, I’m headed back to my room. I have a 7:30 reservation at Emilio’s,”
I mention to Pieter.
“You’re going to love it. The calamari is fantastic, and make sure you try the filet. Marcus does something with a blue cheese sauce that really complements the beef,”
he suggests.
Delaney
I roll over, and the time on my phone reads 7:02. Yikes! I lay down when I got back to the room after the sail-away party with the thought of taking a quick power nap, but that was nearly two and a half hours ago.
Regardless, I jump out of bed as I only have twenty-eight minutes to get to dinner. After a quick shower and shave, I leave my hair down and throw on a sundress as “resort casual”
is suggested for appropriate attire. Can I mention that the extra-large Turkish-style towel is just another bonus? Score!
I love this dress. A simple white boho panel dress with a deep V-neck accentuating the girls. Thank God the girls came late, since running at top speed down the 115-foot runway, only to explode with power, contorting my body into twists and turns ten feet in the air wouldn’t have been good with big boobs. By the end of my career, I was wearing two sports bras to keep them anchored. Back to my dress, the white lace wraps around the high waistline, with half sleeves that flutter. The hem flares just above my knees, and I finish the look with my favorite espadrille sandals. All dressed up and ready to eat, alone. Ugh! Again, not ideal, but when you travel alone, it is what it is .
Dinner time on a cruise is always great for people-watching. The women always seem to be more dressed up. Occasionally, you’ll spot a guy in a classic dinner jacket with a bowtie, but not often.
Emilio’s is at the aft of the ship. The entire back wall of the restaurant is windows looking out at the span of the ocean we leave behind us. It’s absolutely breathtaking. I read the reviews and knew I would want to eat here several times during my trip.
Enzo from Sicily, or at least that’s what his name tag reads, the attractive ma?tre d' standing at the podium welcomes me, “ Buona sera ,”
he says with a warm welcome.
“Good evening,” I reply.
“And your stateroom number, please?”
“Nine double-oh seven,” I answer.
“Ms. Fitzpatrick?”
he inquires.
“ Si ,”
I respond, leaning into the little Italian I know.
“Please follow me.”
He guides me through the dimly lit dining area, weaving between tables where couples and families are enjoying their meals. At one table, I notice a pasta dish covered in cheese that looks delicious. There’s a large steak at another. It’s evident that there are going to be many culinary options to choose from.
He stops at a table set for two at the back of the restaurant. It’s a table perfect for couples as the view is spectacular and very romantic. They usually throw singles at a random table off on the side and reserve the better tables for couples, but that’s not the case here. Score another point for Pinnacle!
“ Signorina ,”
he politely says as he pulls my chair away from the table, allowing me to take a seat. “Sabrina will be your server this evening,”
he states, handing me the menu. “ Buon appetitto .”
I glance over the menu, trying to find that glorious cheese dish. I slow down and take in the view and start to appreciate all the details that are creating such a wonderful experience. With the crystal chandeliers, the fresh flowers on the tables, the unique cutlery, and the lone cellist playing softly in the corner, Pinnacle has set the bar pretty damn high!
“ Buona sera ,”
I hear a soft voice say. “I’m Sabrina, your server. Sergio and I will be taking care of you this evening.
“Good evening,” I reply.
“Are there any food allergies we need to share with the kitchen?”
Wow! Really impressive that they cover this right away.
“No,” I answer.
“While you get settled and have a chance to review the menu, can I get you something from the bar?” she asks.
“Not yet, thank you.”
“Let me know if you have any questions, and I’ll be back to take your order. ”
This menu is impressive! I could eat everything I read. From the Caprese salad to the pasta to the steaks, where do I start? I wish I had someone to share with.
“ Buona sera . I’m Sergio,”
a gentleman introduces himself. “Sparkling or still water?”
“Sparkling, please,”
I respond.
As I dive deeper into the menu, trying to create the perfect dinner combination, Sabrina returns with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
“This is for you,”
she offers.
“I didn’t order…”
She hands me a napkin that reads…
Sorry for this afternoon. Please accept this bottle as a token of my sincere apologies. Hope you and your husband have a great cruise!
I look up immediately, perplexed.
“The gentleman at the bar sent this over,”
she clarifies, recognizing my confused facial expression that begs for an explanation.
My head whips around, and that’s when I see him, Mr. Godiva. Holy shit, does he look good! Actually, he looks better than good. He looks absolutely exquisite. But what the hell is the whole “husband” comment?!
Dressed in dark blue jeans, a crisp white collared shirt with the top button undone, and a patterned blue blazer, he looks like he just fell out of this month’s issue of GQ . What did I do to deserve this?
He acknowledges me, lifts his glass like he’s toasting me, and returns to his conversation with one of the ship’s female officers and the bartender.
Okay, now what do I do? I only looked for him all afternoon, and now he’s here. How do I respond? It was a very generous gesture, but apparently, he thinks I’m married. He could be waiting for his wife to join him. Shit! What do I do?
I see Enzo approach him and start to guide him to his table. I try not to stare, but the man is walking on water. He walks with purpose, and I like it a lot! Oh, my God, he’s coming toward my table. Don’t look, act casual, breathe.
“Good evening,”
he delivers in a voice that makes me melt deeper into my oversized red velvet chair.
“Good evening,”
I softly reply.
Get it together, girl! It’s not like you’ve never talked to a hot guy before. Hanging out in the Olympic Village, you see the hottest guys on the planet. I mean, the Danes are gorgeous! Get your shit together now!
“Thank you so much for this,”
I say, pointing to the… holy shit, just noticing the bottle label of Dom in front of me.
“It’s the least I could do,”
he acknowledges as he looks around the restaurant. “And please, make sure you get the shirt cleaned, 15001,”
he reminds me.
Like I need a reminder? I think I’ll get 15001 tattooed somewhere special on my body that only he would see. Oh, my God! Focus !
“I have to ask,”
I pause as I gather my composure and thoughts. “You had two glasses sent over, and your note references my husband?”
That’s when it hits me.
“I noticed your ring,”
he replies.
Yup, I’m an idiot. His face immediately shows signs of concern, like he just messed up.
“I’m so sorry, I made an assumption,”
he pleads. “I should have said, spouse.”
“No, I’m not married,”
I respond.
That just made it worse.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m going to the top deck and jumping off this ship as I don’t know how I could possibly offend you anymore,”
he states.
“No, I’m not a widow,”
I confirm as I try to calm his nerves.
He just stands there, utterly confused, and rightfully so. He has no idea how to respond, and he looks utterly defeated. Cute, but defeated. All he did was send over a $250 bottle of champagne for crashing into me at lunch, and I have made a royal mess that I need to clean up, like right now.
“I’m not married, and I’m not widowed. And if I were to get married, it would be to a man,”
I explain calmly.
He’s still confused, but the tension in his face has relaxed.
“Since I travel alone, I wear this ring to keep guys from hitting on me. Weird, I know, but it obviously works,”
I say, smiling up at him.
“Wow!”
he exhales. “Maybe we can start all over? Hi, I’m AJ,”
he states as he reaches his hand out to introduce himself.
Andrew
I have no idea why I just introduced myself as AJ. Only family and close friends have the liberty to use that nickname.
“I’m DJ,”
she responds, taking my hand in hers. Small and soft, yet firm. My mind is now racing as I try to recover from the last five minutes of what could only be classified as a complete shit show.
“Are you married or traveling with anyone?”
she cautiously asks.
Smiling, I shake my head, “No.”
“Girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Promise?”
she pushes.
“Cross my heart, pinky swear,” I reply.
She pauses, contemplating her next move as she knows the ball is certainly in her court .
“Wow, a pinky swear?”
she exclaims sarcastically. “I guess I have to believe you now. Care to join me?”
Hell yes! In 72-point bold font, as I hold my bubble thought silently. I try to slow my answer as I don’t want to appear too excited.
“That would be great, thank you,”
I quietly respond as I take the seat across from her.