Chapter 6
Ican hear the anchor chains starting to roll back to the boat, their heavy links pounding against carbon as we prepare to cast off.
The last time I saw Caleb, he was cradling my left foot while I screamed, mostly naked, on a deserted beach.
What happened in the last twenty-four hours to make him act like I don’t exist?
Did I hit my head on the dock and make the whole thing up?
And why did he tell me he was a First Mate?
“Stella?” he taps me on the arm as we descend into the depths of the ship, and I realize he’s been talking to me for several seconds. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Huh?”
“About the emergency briefing video in your cabin?”
“Yes, sorry,” I respond robotically, trying to shake myself out of my own whirling thoughts. “I’ll make sure to watch it.”
“Don’t worry. Must be the jet lag! I hope you’ll consider joining us on the jet for the return flight—I know you’re concerned about the environmental impact, but I assure you, Jules has us arm deep in carbon offsets!”
I don’t even have the energy to balk at the ridiculousness of what he just offered, I just nod listlessly as the doors ding open and Harry shows me to my cabin.
If you could call it a cabin. The stateroom is bigger than my entire studio, only instead of looking out at an apartment wall, the portholes peer out onto the turquoise sea.
“I’ll let you get settled!” Harry tells me. “There’s a minifridge right here outside your room with snacks and drinks in case you get hungry.”
“Thanks Harry,” I tell him. “I’ll be up in a second.”
As soon as he closes the door, I fall backwards onto the bed and take a deep breath.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I click on my phone camera and shoot a quick photo of the cabin to Mer before I look around for my ancient Patagonia duffel.
But it isn’t here. When I open the closet, I see that the clearly sub-par sundresses and sweater I brought are already neatly hung.
In fact, everything I have is unpacked: the drawers of my dresser are stacked neatly with my clothes, right down to my carefully folded underwear.
Even Pepe the hippo, who I’ve dragged everywhere with me since I was five, is set out neatly on my pillow with a white lei around his neck.
I cringe, remembering the way I crammed everything into my bag haphazardly before I left.
I’m sure the crew is already gossiping about me—I’m probably the most un-yachtie guest ever to set foot on the Vela Bianca.
At the very least, Caleb’s thinking it. I saw the way he looked at my frizzy hair, my mosquito bites, my sad, wrinkled sundress.
It was the same look Matthew gave me when I went in for that dreadful hug.
Disdain. Embarrassment. The look that says, you don’t belong here, and it won’t be long before you go crawling back to whatever backwoods hovel you came out of.
Is that why Caleb pretended not to know me? He’s probably embarrassed to be associated with someone so obviously unequipped for yacht life. Or maybe he flirts with so many women on beaches he honestly doesn’t remember. I pull my phone out from my back pocket and compose a text to Mer.
Remember hot runner from yesterday?
She responds within seconds.
Mr. Baywatch? How could I forget?
Well… he’s here. He’s my captain.
NO WAY!
Then:
It’s destiny! BTW, I’ve always wanted to get railed on a boat.
Mer sends me a string of eggplant emojis.
Keep dreaming. He’s acting like he doesn’t remember me.
Wait… what?? Are you sure?
I’m serious! Re-introduced himself and everything. TOTAL dick.
Ew, gross. How much you wanna bet he has a tiny peen?
I laugh out loud before she sends me a second response.
What did he say when you called him out?
I feel my shoulders lurch. Marianne knows me well enough to know that I did no such thing.
I can’t even correct a wrong order at a restaurant without turning into a blubbering puddle of awkwardness, let alone call out Caleb for something so humiliating.
And in the last five months, my confidence has only gotten more elusive.
You didn’t, did you?! When you get back we are having a serious conversation about speaking your truth. Your throat chakra must be a mess right now!
My what what?
Just trust me. But until then, forget about Captain Asswipe and enjoy yourself. Because YOU’RE ON A YACHT IN FIJI!!!
Marianne’s right: I’m not here to flirt with Caleb. He’s just one more obstacle in the string of many to make me feel like I don’t belong here. And I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of proving him right.
I’m just not sure why it stings so badly.
A perfunctory knock sounds at my door before Jules pushes it open.
“So…” she says, tweedling her fingers like a Looney Toon. “What do you think! Isn’t it insane?!”
“Insane is one word for it,” I reply. Jules deflates. I may be able to fool Harry, but she knows from one look at me that I’m a few notches less than pleased.
“You hate it,” she says gingerly as she sits beside me on the bed.
It’s not like I’m trying to be a downer.
But someone in this family has to be realistic, and it’s not going to be Jules.
Her new lifestyle is one I will never fit in with, and the sooner Jules understands that, the easier it will be for both of us.
“I don’t hate it,” I huff. “But you told me this vacation was going to be low key. Never did you mention we were boarding the Queen Mary! Is there a secret ballroom on board I don’t know about? Do we have an escape submarine hidden below deck?”
“Ok, I may have underexaggerated just a little. But if I’d told you the truth, I was afraid you wouldn’t come!”
I open my mouth to protest, but she’s definitely not wrong.
“And if you’d read the welcome packet…”
“Fine, fine,” I tell her, not wanting to hear another thing about this stupid welcome packet, “But a heads up would have been nice. I feel a little underdressed. And they folded my underwear!”
I point to one of the mahogany drawers and Jules laughs.
“Luckily for you,” she says, “I brought enough outfits to last four years at sea. If we’re boarded by pirates, at least we can fight them off with my suitcases.”
When I don’t laugh, she gives me a concerned look.
“What’s really going on, babe?” She asks, pushing my shoulder playfully. “You’ve been dodging my calls for weeks. Is this really just about the ship?”
I try not to groan. Where do I even start?
For a minute, I think about telling her about Caleb.
It would be so nice not to feel like I had to gaslight myself into thinking his behavior isn’t appalling.
But Jules isn’t one to let things lie. If I tell her my mystery knight in shining armor is actually the Warren’s captain, the first thing she’ll do is go to Harry, and it’s not hard to imagine the drama that will ensue.
The same kind of drama that just got me suspended.
If experience is anything to go by, the only thing telling Jules will accomplish is teaching the Warrens to associate me with problems.
But there is something Jules needs to know. Even if saying it out loud feels equivalent to harpooning myself with one of the spikes on my garish chandelier.
“Ok. Please don’t freak out—"
I’m interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come in!” Jules calls, and it swings open to reveal a smiling Gia, her arms busy with a white tray of pink drinks each garnished with an orchid flower.
“Hello ladies! I thought I’d bring you down some of Russ’s freshly-made passion fruit juice.”
Jules turns to me with a wide-mouthed smile that gives her the overall air of a contestant on the Price is Right.
“Thank you, Gia. It looks delicious!”
Jules takes the drinks before Gia closes the door, smile unbroken.
“See!” I hiss as soon as I’m sure she can’t hear. “Did she just bow?”
“Oh, take the drink Stella,” she chides as she passes me the juice. “When was the last time you let yourself just relax?”
I take a reluctant sip and discover that, unsurprisingly, it’s phenomenal.
“I’m not accepting your bribery,” I tell her. “Don’t you feel like we’re exploiting the crew by expecting them to wait on us every hour of the day? It just seems so… classist.”
“Stelly, this is their job! We’re not exploiting them. I bet most of them make more money than you do!”
“Thanks, Jules.”
If only she knew how true her statement was.
“You know what I mean. Look, it was weird for me the first time, too. Spending time with the Warrens takes some getting used to. The last time Harry and I visited his parents, they had a quartet flown in from Vienna to accompany our dinner. I legitimately thought I was on some Cinderella-style reality show.”
“Casual.”
She grabs my hand and gives me the familiar look she’s been giving me all my life. The one that says, stop overthinking this and just relax.
“Stella. I realize that glitz and glamour is not your scene. It isn’t mine, either, or even Harry’s to be honest.”
I very much doubt that last statement.
“But look where we are!”
She points to the porthole, where we have a perfect view of the passing mangroves.
“We have free reign of a superyacht in the South Pacific. Do you realize how insane that is? You’ve always dreamed of living on a boat!”
“Boat!” I emphasize. “As in, sailboat? Little scrubby white thing that smells like sea lions? This isn’t a boat—it’s a cruise ship! There’s a freaking movie theater on board!”
“My god, Stella, you sound like Dad. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. The least you could do is try to have fun!”
I sigh, because she’s right. Even if I’m not comfortable living like a celebrity, I’m not going to help anyone by being miserable.
Haven’t I always wanted to go to the south pacific?
Haven’t I always dreamed of swimming freely with manta rays and tropical fish?
I made my bed by agreeing to come here. The least I can do is have a little fun in it.