Chapter 20
Suddenly Hitched—What a Trip!
Hello, Trixie!
It’s me again—Exhausted but Intrigued, though now I’m more like Exhausted and MORTIFIED.
I went to the northern lights viewing with Sean like you suggested, and it was magical.
We talked for hours, watched the aurora dance across the sky, and I felt more alive than I have in years.
We’ve been spending every day together since—coffee in the morning, excursions during the day, drinks before dinner.
He’s smart, kind, funny, and we have this incredible chemistry I haven’t felt since my twenties.
Here’s where everything fell apart…Yesterday, my BFF finally cornered me and told me the truth.
Sean is her ex-boyfriend. Her SERIOUS ex-boyfriend from about fifteen years ago—during that period when we’d lost touch after college.
They dated for three years, lived together, and apparently it ended badly.
She’s been avoiding him the entire cruise because seeing him brings up all this old hurt.
Trixie, I had NO IDEA. Sean didn’t know she was on the ship either—he was as shocked as I was when we all ended up face-to-face in the elevator.
Now my BFF is barely speaking to me (even though I didn’t know!), Sean is confused about what to do, and I’m caught in the middle of something that feels impossible.
The cruise ends in three days. Do I cut things off with Sean to preserve my friendship? Do I explain to my BFF that this wasn’t intentional? Can I even enjoy what time we have left, or is this whole situation just doomed?
Exhausted and Conflicted
Dear Exhausted and Conflicted,
Oh honey. This is messy, and I’m sorry you’re in the middle of it. But let’s be clear about something: You did nothing wrong.
You didn’t scheme, you didn’t plot, and you didn’t knowingly pursue your friend’s ex.
You met someone on a cruise ship, felt a connection, and acted on it—exactly what single people on vacation are supposed to do.
The fact that he happens to be someone from her past is unfortunate timing, not betrayal.
That said, your BFF’s feelings are real and valid. Seeing an ex who hurt her, especially unexpectedly, on what was supposed to be a fun trip, is genuinely difficult. But her discomfort doesn’t automatically mean you have to end things with Sean. It means you all need to have an honest conversation.
My advice? Talk to your friend. Acknowledge that this is awkward and painful for her, but also be honest that you have real feelings for Sean and you’d like her blessing to see where this goes. Fifteen years is a long time. People change. Relationships evolve. She might surprise you.
As for Sean, if he’s worth your time, he’ll understand that this friendship matters to you and he’ll be patient while you figure it out.
You’ve got three days left on this cruise. Don’t spend them miserable and guilty over something you couldn’t have predicted.
XOXO
Trixie
P.S. If your BFF can’t see past her own hurt to be happy for you, that tells you something important about your friendship. Choose accordingly.
Day 7: Reykjavik, Iceland
(historic harbor, city sightseeing, day trip to Blue Lagoon)
The Emerald Queen sits docked in Reykjavik’s harbor with the quiet confidence of a woman who knows she’s the most interesting thing on the water, which honestly, she kind of is, given her size compared to the colorful buildings lining the waterfront.
It’s nine in the morning, and through the massive windows of the Blue Water Café I can see the city stretching out in shades of red, yellow, and blue.
Painted houses stacked against gray volcanic mountains.
Church spires pierce a sky that can’t decide between clouds and sunshine.
The harbor water is that particular shade of gray-blue that screams “cold enough to kill you in minutes” but somehow looks inviting anyway.
I’m not going in that water. I have standards. And a survival instinct.
I did, however, agree to enter a body of water on land, one that promises to rival every hot tub I’ve ever set foot in, and I can hardly wait.
But that’s for later.
Right now, I’m loading my breakfast plate as if I’m preparing for hibernation. Scrambled eggs fluffy enough to use as pillows. Bacon crispy enough to shatter when you bite into it. Sausage links that smell like heaven. And enough hash browns to feed a hockey team.
Of course, there’s a stack of Belgian waffles that I plan to drown in syrup.
Fresh fruit that makes me feel nutritiously smug in contrast to the waffle.
A chocolate croissant because France and Iceland are basically neighbors if you squint at a map.
Smoked salmon because we’re in Scandinavia-adjacent waters and it seems disrespectful not to.
A small mountain of roasted potatoes, which count as a vegetable a little more so than the hash browns. And a chocolate chip muffin for later.
I’ve always been one to plan for the future.
Or maybe I’ll have a bite now. We’ll see how I feel.
Bess and Nettie are at the omelet station making the chef’s life difficult by requesting seventeen modifications, so I’ve got a moment to survey the crowd.
Ransom left twenty minutes ago. Quinn actually asked for his help with something security-related, which is ironic considering she inadvertently got him banned to begin with.
She was trying to ban me from investigating, and that backfired so spectacularly that Ransom took the fall and here we are.
Living our best husband-on-involuntary-sabbatical life while a killer roams free.
Speaking of things going sideways.
I spot Marina sitting alone at the counter that runs along the wall lined with windows, the prime real estate seating where you can eat and stare at Iceland simultaneously. She has a plate in front of her but she’s not eating. She’s just staring out at the water as if it offended her on some level.
I make my way over, and my overladen plate requires some serious navigation through the wall of people clamoring to get their hands on breakfast and a seat to enjoy it in.
“Stunning view, right?” I slide onto the stool next to her.
Marina startles, then laughs. There’s something layered just beneath her smile and I can’t quite read it.
“Oh, it’s beyond stunning. I’ve never traveled like this before.” She gestures at the harbor, the mountains, the whole stunning panoramic scene. “I have a confession to make. This is my very first cruise. And I can see why you’d choose to live on this ship.”
I bite down a smile. “There’s always room for one more.”
I have a feeling Wes would pen me a thank-you letter if I could convince her to stay on board.
Marina shakes her head as something sad blinks across her face. “I’m afraid my budget wouldn’t allow for it.” She casts a dark look out at the water. “It can’t afford a lot of things.”
The words land heavy between us.
I take a bite of bacon to buy myself some time to think.
Marina is wearing designer clothes, carries herself with the polish of a woman who’s had money, and she’s on a luxury cruise that runs into serious money.
But there’s something in her voice, something brittle and sharp, that suggests the fancy packaging might be hiding an empty box, and maybe an empty bank account.
I’ve solved enough homicides to know that money is a great motivator for murder.
Money problems are motive problems. And motive problems are my business when there’s a dead man involved.
“Are you having financial troubles?” I keep my voice just above a whisper.
Marina’s jaw tightens. She’s still staring out at the water, but her knuckles go white where they’re gripping her coffee mug.
“I guess you could say that.”
I wait. Sometimes silence does better work than questions.
She gives a heavy sigh. It’s the sound of a woman who’s been carrying something heavy for too long.
“Things are complicated right now,” she says with a frown.
“Marina.” I set down my fork and turn to face her fully. “What’s going on? What really led you to this ship? I mean, what led you to that bar in Copenhagen? Whatever it was, it left you devastated.”
Her eyes widen slightly before pooling with tears, and she’s quick to blink them away.
“And I confess,” I continue, totally committed to this conversation now, “I may have seen you in Isafjordur. Before we went whale watching. You were pretty upset with whoever you were on the phone with.”
Her eyes widen and her face goes pale.
“It was nothing,” she says, but her voice cracks as she says it.
“Nothing?” I lean in slightly. “Are you sure? Because I also happened to see you slip your phone into the water later that afternoon. It sure looked like something was going on to me.”
Marina gasps and inches back to get a better look at me. In fact, she’s staring at me as if I just announced I’m a sea monster.
“Trixie, are you spying on me?”
“What? No, I—”
“Are you trying to investigate me or something?” Her voice rises, sharp enough that a couple at a nearby table glances over.
“Because I have news for you, and your FBI husband, too. I don’t want to be watched.
In fact, that’s exactly why I said yes to this trip to begin with.
To get away from people watching me. Judging me. Following my every move and—”
“Marina, I’m not—”
“I thought you were different.” She stands abruptly and snaps up her purse. “I thought maybe I’d found someone who actually wanted to be my friend instead of just digging for dirt about my life. But apparently everyone on this ship has an agenda.”
“That’s not what this is—”
“Well, it’s exactly what it looks like.” Marina laughs, but it’s far from a happy sound. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks exactly like what I came here to escape.”
Ha! So, she admits she’s running from something.
“Ladies.” Wes appears beside us as though he’s been summoned by the scent of conflict. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t look impressed. In fact, he looks downright angry, mostly at me.
Both Marina and I look at him. I offer a meager smile because I didn’t mean to start a fight. And Marina looks like she’s two seconds from either crying or throwing her coffee at me.
Wes glances between us, clearly trying to assess the damage. “Marina, would you like to join us at the Blue Lagoon this afternoon? It would be an honor to have you as my guest.”
It’s a peace offering dressed up as a day trip, and we both know it.
Wes is good, I’ll give him that.
Marina’s expression softens slightly as she looks at him, just slightly. But it’s enough to show that whatever anger she’s directing at me doesn’t extend to him.
“That’s very kind of you, Wes. Really.” She pushes her plate back even though she’s hardly touched her food. “But I think I might just go to the spa right here on the ship.”
She looks at me, and whatever is swimming behind those eyes refuses to be named. Hurt, fear, or maybe a good mix of both.
“I’m sorry, Trixie. But I need to be alone. I hope you all have a good time.”
She walks away with her spine straight and her head held high, leaving me sitting at the bar with a plate full of food and the distinct feeling I just made everything worse.
Wes settles onto the stool Marina just vacated. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
“I think I asked the wrong questions.”
“Or the right ones.” He watches Marina disappearing into the crowd and his expression grows heavy.
“I think she might be having money problems, and something more,” I tell him. “She made it sound as if she couldn’t even afford the cruise.”
“She couldn’t,” he says. “I comped it.”
My mouth falls open. First, I didn’t know that was an option. And second, Wes is in way deeper than I thought.
“Wes, I think she’s hiding something,” I say quietly.
“Most people are.” He turns to face me. “The question is whether what she’s hiding is relevant to why we had a dead man in our morgue or just relevant to why she’s unhappy.”
“I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”
Bess and Nettie appear with their custom omelets, oblivious to the drama they missed.
“Ready to go boil ourselves in volcanic water?” Nettie asks cheerfully.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, even though what I really want to do is follow Marina and figure out exactly what she’s running from.
But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’ve been so focused on catching a killer that I’ve forgotten how to just be a friend to someone who clearly needs one.
Or maybe Marina Maxwell is guilty as sin and putting on the performance of her life.
Either way, the Blue Lagoon awaits, and if I’m going to solve a murder and salvage a friendship, I’m going to need all the relaxation I can get.
But first. I pick up my chocolate croissant.
Sustenance.