Chapter 16
Adam slipped Lucy onto a first-class seat on the earliest New York flight, reserving the aisle spot—and booking himself into the other seat beside it.
He arranged a private car from the ship’s gangway to the airport, another from LaGuardia to their apartment, and even a Miami hotel suite in case the ship docked too late for their flight.
Lucy discovered all of this at six that morning when someone slid an itinerary beneath her cabin door.
She unfolded the crisp pages at her little table, irritation bubbling against a residue of the old tenderness she hated admitting.
He’d chosen the aisle—because she hated the claustrophobia of a window seat and requested the vegetarian breakfast, even knowing she would steal half his bacon.
Every detail spoke of thoughtfulness…except none of it made a dent in her anger.
By the time Steven slid into the seat opposite her in the ship’s small breakfast room, she was folding the pages back along their original crease.
His ankle was propped on the bench beside him, one crutch discarded.
“He booked the adjoining hotel room for me,” Steven said, tracing his itinerary with a fingertip.
“Either he’s madly generous, or he’s keeping tabs. ”
Lucy huffed out a breath. “Adam is presumptuous.”
Steven shrugged. “I confirmed two seats on the afternoon flight instead. In case you don’t want to go home on his timetable.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And you paid for mine?”
He spread jam on a piece of toast like an important experiment. “You were about to pay for mine.”
“Completely different.”
He set the toast down and met her gaze. “Pot meet kettle.”
Lucy tossed a sugar packet at him. He caught it against his chest, plucked it free, and dropped it into his coffee. “Save the psychoanalysis.”
Their banter fell away under pale morning light as the ship eased into Miami.
Northstar had staggered disembarkation times to manage the crowd.
When Lucy and Steven emerged, conversations died at their approach.
The same colleagues who’d mistaken her for Adam’s sister, were now aware of her broken engagement and the island mishap. Murmured gossip followed in her wake.
Steven had negotiated to use a single crutch after proving he could navigate the medical center corridors without collapse. Together they looked less like survivors than guests leaving a themed resort, which suited Lucy just fine. She had no intention of performing her trauma for an audience.
Adam waited by the gangway exit, flanked by Daniel. His suit was dark, collar open, hair damp from a rushed shower. His face—once animated, hopeful—had settled into a permanent strain. When he saw Lucy, his eyes flicked to her bare ring finger and back again to her face with sadness.
He inclined his head. “The car’s outside. .”
She swallowed. She looked at Steven. “We arranged our own.”
He dipped his chin. His face shifted, as though realizing for the first time that home might not be a given. “The apartment is yours for as long as you choose. I’ll stay in a hotel.”
“I don’t want the apartment.”
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. Decide whatever. I want to be with you, I want you to come home, but I’ll remain elsewhere until you tell me what to do with the lease.”
Lucy remembered the evenings they sat at their kitchen table, her hand moving across the tabletop as she described ideas to him.
Concept beaches shaped like open books, constellations reimagined as flight paths, a compass whose points dissolved into birds.
She’d spotted echoes of those sketches throughout the cruise’s marketing but hadn’t realized Northstar claimed them.
Daniel approached, offering a heavy cream envelope to Lucy. She peeled it open inside the public space. The first page promised that Northstar would cover her medical bills, travel expenses and compensation for her suffering.
Northstar passengers began filtering toward the doors in assigned groups.
Some paused to thank Adam; he redirected each to Daniel without taking his eyes entirely off Lucy.
At the far end of the atrium, Karina appeared, her suitcase at the feet of two officers.
Her gaze flicked to Steven—frozen as if on guard—and then to Lucy and Adam.
For a heartbeat Lucy thought Karina might say something, but she lowered her head and was led away.
Steven studied the retreating figure. Adam’s expression hardened.
“Don’t,” she said.
He glanced at her. “I wasn’t going to?—”
“Good-bye, Adam.”
Adam blinked. “Lucy— you don’t?—,”
“No,” Steven said, softer now. “It’s not the time.” He nodded his head to the crowd of onlookers.
“This isn’t your affair.”
“Stop,” Lucy admonished. She offered Steven a small, grateful smile. “Whatever happens with us, Steven was with me and protected me when you weren’t there.”
Adam’s silence spoke volumes. Then, he nodded once, stiffly. “I’m grateful he was with you.”
“Nice line,” Steven muttered.
The bellhop appeared with their luggage, and Adam took a step forward as Lucy reached for her larger bag. He stopped, glanced at her hand, then asked quietly if he could carry it outside. The careful request—an ordinary gesture turned loaded question—made Lucy’s chest tighten.
“No,” she said, surprising herself. “The porter has it.”
They left him framed beneath Northstar’s giant “Record Growth” banner—an anniversary emblem that now looked embarrassingly hollow in the bright morning.
Lucy didn’t turn around until the glass doors swung shut behind them. When she glanced back, Adam still stood where she’d left him, hands empty at his sides.