Chapter 4
Lucy saw Karina pause mid-sip of her glass of water, felt the young man’s stare skim past her shoulder until it fixed on Karina. In that suspended instant, no one else in the reception hall stirred. Then Karina stepped aside and offered him a patient, almost playful smile.
“You’ve got the wrong blonde,” she said, lifting her hand so the diamonds caught the chandelier light. Lucy’s hair was brown, but Karina let the joke run. “Mrs. Shay-to-be is standing right there.”
The man’s face creased with apology. He was barely twenty-five, in a crisp blazer and a conference badge reading Owen – PR. His cheeks rose in sudden heat. “I’m so sorry. I saw the ring and…someone told me…” He sank his voice like it weighed a hundred pounds of embarrassment.
Karina glanced down at her left hand. A narrow band of diamonds studded with a larger central gem seemed to glow on her finger, as though she’d forgotten it was there.
She touched it lightly. Even she sometimes forgot the significance of that heirloom.
“It belonged to my grandmother,” she explained calmly.
Lucy offered Owen a reassuring smile. She could see his pride wilt. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Adam’s been recruiting distant relatives all evening.” She nodded toward her fiancé, who at that moment was battling a small crowd of colleagues.
“Really, I…” Owen started again, but Karina cut him a courteous dismissal. At Lucy’s invitation, Adam finally broke free from the horde and joined them. Owen raised his phone with relief. “Could I get a quick photo of you?” he asked.
They gathered close: Lucy on one side, Karina on the other, Adam in the center.
Karina coached him on the lighting—move your head, lean in a hair—while Adam tried not to laugh.
On the third shot he pivoted to kiss Lucy’s cheek.
He aimed a little too high and brushed the corner of her eye, which made Lucy break into giggles.
Owen beamed; he took a final shot, thumbs it in place, and promised to send the images as soon as he landed.
Everyone dispersed. The minor confusion should have ended there. Yet Lucy’s gaze drifted back to Karina’s hand—and that delicate row of diamonds.
She thought back to the Christmas party. Karina in a red dress, cradling a plate of crab cakes, and that ring glittering like the point of a spotlight. Lucy had assumed it was just another statement piece; Karina dressed that way, radiating effortless confidence.
Adam remained tethered to Lucy for the rest of the evening.
Partly to shield her, partly because every time he took three steps someone grabbed his arm to discuss campaign metrics.
Before long he was shepherding guests toward the bar with the same determined grip he used on spreadsheets.
Lucy laughed. “What—are you planning to inebriate the entire company before breakfast?”
“I’m improving morale,” he replied as they stepped into the elevator just before midnight. Two stragglers darted for the closing doors; Adam gently held the button with his back and allowed the doors to seal them inside. “Northstar’s wellness program could use a little boost.”
The sudden quiet of the elevator felt thick and hollow in Lucy’s ears.
The man who’d dazzled every conference room had vanished.
He loosened his tie, a knot that moments ago Karina had painstakingly straightened, and slumped against the mirrored wall.
Shadowed fatigue gathered under his eyes, tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Lucy watched him for a heartbeat, then knelt between his feet. With deliberate slowness she slid his tie over his head. “Better?” she asked.
He rested his brow against hers. His breath was soft. “I was hoping you’d remove the rest,” he murmured, a touch of humor in his voice. “Did you like my speech?”
Lucy wrapped the tie around her fingers and thought of the pulse of the room when his name rang out, Joanna’s slip of tongue, Owen’s blunder. She swallowed. “It was good,” she said slowly. “But…”
He lifted his head to look at her. “But?”
She hated that “but.” She hated that he’d heard it. “I don’t think it helped with the assumption that Karina is your fiancée. One person could make an assumption, but this is a company of hundreds, and lots of them a under the same mistaken impression.”
She didn’t add that her feelings had been hurt when he hadn’t mentioned her. It seemed petty and unseemly to say such a thing, and so she swallowed the criticism down.
Adam rubbed the back of his neck, half-smile returning. “Companies are like gossipy villages that offer dental plans. Somebody says one thing, and everyone else repeats it.”
“Who said it first?”
He sighed. “Who knows.”
The elevator dinged at their deck. Hand in hand, they walked along the corridor, thick navy carpet muffling their footsteps.
Framed photos of tropical islands lined the walls; Lucy tried to remember all the names.
“You aren’t secretly having an affair with Karina, are you?
” She joked, but it didn’t come out quite as light as she’d intended.
Adam’s grip tightened a little and looked down at her seriously. “I would hope you know me better than that,” he said. His voice had warmth but also an undercurrent of frustration. “I’m just now worried everyone at my company might be stupid.”
Lucy laughed softly. “I know, I’m being ridiculous, I’m sorry.” Back at their cabin, he flipped the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door and set their official cruise card on the table.
By the time they fell asleep—crisp sheets, the murmur of the ship’s engines—rumors, and rings, and sideways glances had shrunk to the edges of her mind.
The next morning, a blade of sunlight cut across the bed.
Lucy woke to find half of the pillow cool and indented where Adam had been before spotting his tousled hair on the balcony.
She swung her legs over the side and padded across the room.
He sat on a white metal chair, bespectacled by sunglasses perched on his nose, yesterday’s trousers hanging loose at his waist. A steaming cup waited on the table beside him, his phone face-down.
“You’re not working?” she said through the open door.
He lifted the cup in salute. “I ordered coffee and watched the ocean. I believe this is called relaxing. It’s, terrifying,” he confessed with a boyish grin after a swallow. “There’s nothing to fix.”
Breakfast was on deck eleven, a buffet spread with fruit, pastries, and an omelet station.
Adam tried a baseball cap today, hoping to fly under the radar.
It worked until the omelet chef caught sight of him.
“Morning, Adam!” the man called. “Is this your fiancée?” he asked Lucy, leaning over the counter.
Lucy felt a wave of relief wash over her at this proper identification.
“She’s survived several Northstar events,” Adam said, draping an arm around Lucy’s waist. “This is Lucy.
The man offered congratulations. He walked on but gave them a second glance over his shoulder.
Lucy stood straight, foot tapping lightly.
Across the deck Karina and Steven shared a table under a sloping blue umbrella.
Karina’s hair was tied back; the white cover-up drifted in the breeze, and that diamond band glinted again.
Lucy slid into a seat beside Steven while Adam soaked his pancakes in syrup. Karina handed him coffee before pouring her own, holding the pot with a half-smile.
Adam leaned back with a grin and turned to Karina. “So, it sounds like half the company thinks I’m marrying you.” He said it lightly, like he was sharing an inside joke.
Karina laughed, a soft, musical sound. “Office gossip is crazy.” She lifted her coffee cup. “Somebody probably saw us working late and made up a story.”
“Somebody official,” Adam pressed, still smiling. “What was the wording of the announcement that went out.”
“Communications handles those,” Karina said easily, setting the pot down. “Marcy would know. I’ll ask her after breakfast.” She turned to Lucy with a conspiratorial look. “Don’t worry—we’ll get it sorted.”
Lucy forced a laugh that sounded tinny even to her own ears. “It’s kind of funny, honestly.” She lied, keeping her tone light, but something cold tightened in her chest.
Adam chuckled. “Right? Maybe Karina and I should lean into it. Get matching tattoos.”
Karina playfully swatted his arm. “Don’t give them ideas.” She reached over and squeezed Lucy’s hand. “But really, if there’s some mistaken post floating around, I’ll track it down.”
Steven launched into a story about Martin’s infamous pickleball victory, and the conversation drifted. By the time breakfast ended, Karina had promised to look into it with the ease of someone confirming a lunch order. Lucy made herself smile again.
Lucy’s seaweed wrap—booked weeks ago on Karina’s enthusiastic recommendation—waited for her that morning. Adam planned to meet her after for a long, lazy lunch by the pool. She pictured herself wrapped in cool algae, the world muffled and serene.
At the spa desk, a uniformed attendant peered at the computer. “I’m sorry, your 10:00 seaweed wrap was canceled yesterday.”
Lucy bristled. “By whom?”
The attendant tilted the screen, revealing a list of names. “It came through your group coordinator’s office.”
Lucy’s jaw clenched. She accepted a facial at 11:30 instead and wrapped the plush robe around her arm. Returning to the cabin dressed like a bathhouse escapee felt unappealing. She walked down the corridor to find Karina.
The lounge door swung open before she knocked. Karina stood clutching a tablet, eyes wide. “Lucy—what happened?”
“They canceled the seaweed wrap,” Lucy said with a sigh. “They said my booking was cancelled.”
Karina’s confusion blinked into realization. She tapped her phone, brows furrowing. “Marcy only asked me to release six ‘unconfirmed’ slots. But they’d listed two Brookses by surname. Brittany from Finance dropped hers. I’m guessing the system swapped the slots automatically.”
“So I lost mine.”
Karina bit her lip. “I should have double-checked passenger list. I’m so sorry.” She showed Lucy the message trail: brOOKS—10:00 marked for release. “This is ridiculous. You wanted the seaweed wrap.”
“It’s fine, I’ll settle for the facial,” Lucy sighed. “Maybe they’ll have an opening another day.”
Karina’s shoulders slumped, frustration settling in the crease between her brows. She snapped back into action, messaged the spa manager, and reclaimed Lucy’s seaweed slot for Saturday.
“I have no interest in terrorizing anyone over algae,” Lucy said with a laugh.
Karina grinned. “I don’t terrorize people. I clarify expectations.”
She laughed again, tension draining away. Adam strolled in, still in his cap and sunglasses even indoors. “Ready?” They left together, picnic box in hand, and headed to the pool.
Back in the lounge, Karina tapped a few keys on her tablet.
A festive intranet page filled the screen, balloons and confetti around a headline: CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT, ADAM!
Beneath it, a photo from the holiday party: Adam beaming ahead of the camera, Karina tucked under his arm.
Lucy recognized her own dark sleeve cropped out at the edge, unless you scrolled horizontally to see the rest of the picture which showed Adam holding out her hand with the ring on it.
“I posted that because he waited three weeks to tell the company,” Karina explained quietly. She stepped aside, hurt softening her eyes. “I didn’t realize the website would format it this way.”
They stood in a triangle of apology and awkwardness. Finally Lucy sighed. “It’s fine. It’s an honest mistake. Let’s let it go. We’re on vacation. No more intranet digging.”
Karina exhaled and tapped out a correction request: replace the cropped holiday shot with one featuring Lucy and Adam. Lucy smiled, relieved.
She found the spa receptionist again, clad in that same white tunic, and was led to a plush treatment room.
The seaweed wrap smelled of salt and mint; she lay back, let the therapist smooth the chilled gel across her skin.
Ideas and anxieties washed away with the warm steam.
When she emerged, polished and fragrant, the weight on her shoulders felt lighter.
Carrying a fresh towel, she wandered to the adults-only pool and spotted Adam dozing beneath a wide umbrella, the paperback he’d abandoned splayed across his chest. His phone was tucked under Lucy’s sunhat, gleaming like a talisman against the wood table.
She drifted onto the chaise beside him and watched the water’s edge for a moment. Two women stepped from the shallow end, voices carrying over the lap of the waves.
“Did you see her at breakfast?” one asked.
“The brunette?” the other said.
“I thought she was an ex. Someone said Adam booked the suite before they broke up.”
Lucy kept her gaze on Adam’s peaceful face. A pulse of irritation—then something fiercer, sorrow edged with anger—pricked her skin. She pressed her cheek to the lounger, arms folded, pretending not to hear the gossip that lapped at her like cold water.
The second woman lowered her voice. “Karina said his personal life was complicated. That usually means a clingy ex, doesn’t it?” They laughed quietly and lounged back.
Lucy exhaled. Rumors, she realized, were more persistent than seasickness. She closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her face. Adam shifted beside her but didn’t wake. His steady presence reminded her: she belonged here, ring finger and all, no matter what anybody believed.