Chapter 24
The next morning is spent underway as we speed back to the Denarau Marina.
I should have a raincloud over my head: not only because we’re leaving the islands tomorrow, but because I’m leaving Caleb.
But the high of being with him last night makes me feel like a midwestern dad at a car show. I just can’t seem to stop smiling.
We pull into the crowded marina just after breakfast and I head downstairs to have my coffee alone.
The bad news is that instead of looking out on a pristine island chain that puts Hawaii to shame, our current view consists of an oily marina, a restaurant called “Pina Colada-Ville” and the fifty-story Marriot of my corporate nightmares.
The good news is that behind it hides a massive stretch of boutiques.
According to the itinerary, the whole family’s going shopping today, which gives me a great excuse to fake a headache and stay behind.
Not even Jules can be suspicious of me skipping one of my least favorite activities.
If I know anything about Matthew’s consumer habits, they’ll be occupied for at least half the day, and I plan to spend as much of it as I can with Caleb.
I’m not sure what’s going to happen after we fly home tomorrow.
But something tells me that despite my reluctance to trust any promises from men, Caleb is serious about trying to make things work.
If I really don’t want to go back to Carver, maybe it’s not as crazy as it sounds.
For a few moments, I let myself daydream about what a life with Caleb might be like.
I picture white sails and sea spray that peppers the decks; waking up each morning in a new port, exploring the distant corners of the world.
In the jungle, Caleb told me he dreamed of owning his own boat.
Maybe I could help him. I could learn to sail.
He’d teach me to read the tides. We could spend each night curled up on deck in a pile of blankets, drawing new constellations in the sea of stars.
Focus, Stella. I snap the useless hair-tie against my wrist. I’ll need all my lust-compromised brain power to figure out how I’m going to get Caleb alone after the family heads into town. This might be our last chance to talk before I leave, and I don’t want to miss a single second of it.
I head upstairs at 10:45, entirely rehearsed to deliver my anti-consumerism speech to Harry and my sister.
I’m still in my pajamas, and my unbrushed hair sticks up on all sides of my head like Medusa.
If I’m going to sell everyone on not feeling up for an outing, I might as well look the part.
But the salon is a ghost town when I reach it.
Did I get the time wrong again? I swore the itinerary said eleven, and the Warrens aren’t exactly known for changing plans.
“Hello?” I call sheepishly, then again a bit louder. “Guys?”
But there’s no answer. Not even Gia or Allie is waiting in the galley to spring out at a moment’s notice for a cocktail order.
“Pst!” I think I hear from the hallway, but I’m not sure if it’s real or imagined. “Stella!”
It sounds like it’s coming from Patricia and Arthur’s room. Tentatively, I walk towards the source of the noise, but as soon as I pass the galley door a man’s arm hooks me and pulls me sideways, practically dragging me through a door I assume is a hall bathroom.
“What—“ I start, ready to give Caleb an earful about surprising me in the hallway, but as soon as I turn, I see that it’s not Caleb who’s grabbed me. And this definitely isn’t a bathroom.
“What are you doing?” I bark as Matthew drops my arm.
“Shh!” he warns me as he carefully shifts the door closed.
The room we’re in is half the size of my cabin and furnished only with an ottoman, several shelves and a velvet green reading chair.
But the sparse furnishings aren’t what surprise me.
What surprises me is that covering every usable surface are glass and ceramic flamingos.
Tiny flamingos. Lampshade flamingos. Flamingos splatter painted like a Jackson Pollock.
In the center of it all, a golden flamingo head sticks out of the wall like a mounted antelope.
Even the wallpaper is covered in tropical birds—blue and orange parakeets that flit between paper palm fronds.
I certainly don’t remember this bizarre bird shrine from the tour.
“Matthew,” I ask slowly, half expecting him to tell me it’s time to sacrifice me to the avian gods. “What is this room?”
“Mom calls it her ‘office’,” he says in air quotes, “but since she doesn’t actually have a job, I’m pretty sure she just comes here to escape Dad when he’s watching Formula One.”
Hold the phone. This room belongs to Patricia?
“And the birds?”
“Honestly, who knows. I guess she just really likes flamingos. But that’s beside the point.”
I’m not sure if I’m more shocked that I’ve been missing a whole room or that the queen of the damned is partial to the most flamboyant creature of all time. But what comes out of Matthews mouth is far, far more unexpected than a few dozen flamingo sculptures.
“Stella, Mom fired Captain Caleb.”
I practically choke on my own breath.
“What?”
“Shh!” Matthew hushes me again, looking around to make sure the only ears listening still belong to glass birds.
“Why?” I wheeze, sure I’ve misheard him. “What did he do?”
“The anchor dragged while he was on watch last night, and he missed it. He had to move the ship back, which woke her up.”
I remember the engines starting last night just as I was getting ready for bed after my night with Caleb. I was so tired, I didn’t think twice about it.
“Did something happen to the ship?”
“No. Everything was fine, but when he refused to tell her where he was, she went through the security footage.”
I feel like I’m frozen and, simultaneously, like I’m going to puke. But Caleb made sure nobody saw us. He knows this boat like the back of his hand—there’s no way he’d leave tracks on camera. Right?
“Matthew,” I ask, trying to swallow the tsunami of panic that’s crashing through my body. “What did she find?”
Matthew lowers himself to sit on the ottoman before thinking better of it and standing back up. He’s avoiding something.
“Evidence,” he says quietly, and I step so close to him I can see exactly how long it’s been since he last shaved.
“Evidence?”
Matthew lets out a frustrated breath.
“She saw a frame of Steven and I… together on the back deck. I didn’t even know there were cameras out there. But… the footage is terrible. It’s like some grainy night-vision version of Paranormal Activity. ”
Matthew is too calm for a man who’s just been outed by his conservative mother. The nausea in my stomach knows what’s coming before my brain can catch up.
“She thought that Steven was kissing Caleb.”
For a second, I’m silent, but the inside of my head is anything but. Sirens blare through my mind in a nonstop cacophony of guilt. The blanket. The stargazing. Caleb on watch last night.
“What time did this happen?” I bark.
“I don’t know—“
I raise my voice until I’m practically shouting at him.
“What time?”
Matthew raises his shoulders in a shrug.
“A little after midnight?”
I feel my entire nervous system collapse. This is my fault. Caleb missed watch because he was with me.
Without thinking through the next steps of my plan, I rush for the door. I have to do something before it’s too late.
“Where are you going?” Matthew stops me before I can grab the handle.
“To fix this.”
“Stella, you can’t! What could you even say?“
I pull my arm from Matthew’s grasp, but it’s too late. I can’t stop the tears that are spilling down my face. When he sees them, his eyes go as wide as the wingspan of one of Patricia’s precious flamingos.
“Oh. My. God,” he says slowly, realization dawning on him. “You’re the reason he missed his watch. You and… Caleb?”
Of course he doesn’t believe it. With the way Caleb and I used to snap at each other, I can scarcely believe it myself. But I don’t say a thing, just stare at him like a possum in a flashlight beam. Maybe if I’m absolutely still, he’ll just go away.
“Stella.” His voice turns from scandalized to panicked. “Please. You can’t tell anyone. If my mom finds out it was you with him that night, she’s going to review more of the tapes, and—“
“Are you serious right now?” I bark at him. I hit Matthew with a stare so vicious, he forgets what he was going to say next. “Caleb is about to lose his job, his livelihood, and all you can think about is yourself?”
“Stella, don’t go down there. There’s nothing you can do!“
“But you can,” I remind him. “Tell them the truth. You still have a chance to fix this!”
“I can’t. Stella, I’m sorry, but Caleb’s toast anyway. He missed a watch. For a deckhand, that’s a warning. But for a captain, it’s a death sentence.”
Matthew’s eyes have gone glossy with tears, his normally apathetic expression nowhere to be found.
“Even if I told them the truth, which I can’t, he still broke the code. It isn’t going to accomplish anything other than, you know, ruining my life.”
Those are selfish tears—the tears of someone who’s backed himself into a corner.
Matthew doesn’t care about me or Caleb. He hasn’t even mentioned anything about Steven.
All he cares about is saving his own skin.
I should have never let my guard down with him—never assumed he was anything more than a self-centered ass.
“Matthew,” I grit out, “I’m not sure how you never learned this, but sometimes the easy thing to do and the right thing to do aren’t the same thing.”
“Stella,” Matthew’s voice is softer than the click of the door handle. “Please, don’t.”
“I meant what I said last night,” I tell him in a choked voice. “I would never tell a secret that’s not mine to tell. But you’d better think long and hard about how much your “reputation” means to you. Because right now, you’re destroying someone else’s.”