3
Robin
How hard can it be to avoid one person on a ship that holds three thousand people?
So much harder than I thought.
First, I try the spa. A massage sounds perfect. Just the kind of relaxation I need after the ambush at the pool. I walk up to the reception desk, ready to book the first available slot, and there he is. Colter, standing at the counter, card in hand, turning at the sound of my footsteps.
We stare at each other for a beat.
I leave.
Fine. No massage. I’ll try the café instead. There’s one at the far end of the ship, as far from the spa as physically possible. I order a latte, find a quiet corner table, and pull out my phone to scroll through emails I can’t actually answer because I promised myself no work this week.
I’ve had approximately thirty minutes of peace when I hear laughter. I look up as a group of girls walk in. A few steps behind, distracted by his phone, Colter enters.
You have got to be kidding me.
I abandon my half-finished latte and slip out before he notices me.
Dinner is the next challenge. I’m avoiding the buffet because Jules will probably be there and I haven’t forgiven him yet. Setting me up for a vacation that was supposed to be relaxing and then pulling this? No. He can eat alone tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on forgiveness. Tonight, I’m holding my grudge close.
I choose the ship’s Italian restaurant instead, which happens to have a last-minute spot available. It’s a nice restaurant with white tablecloths and candles. Surely Colter won’t come here. If anything, he’d be at the steakhouse restaurant. Surely I can eat one meal in peace.
I’m halfway through my appetizer when the sliding door opens and Colter walks in.
Of course he does.
I move to a different seat at my table, angling my chair so my back is to the entrance. I don’t look at him. I don’t let myself wonder if he’s looking at me. I just eat my chicken parmigiana as fast as humanly possible without choking and leave before the waiter can offer dessert.
New plan: the pool bar.
Goal? Drink enough to get a buzz and then have an early night. With any luck, I’ll fall asleep before Jules gets back to the cabin, and tomorrow I can start the process of forgiving my incredibly annoying best friend.
The bar is busy but not packed. I find an empty stool, order something with rum in it, and settle in. The night air is sticky, something I’ll have to get used to this week. The stars are out, and the deejay is playing good music. I can almost pretend this is the relaxing vacation I was promised.
“This seat taken?”
I look up. The guy standing next to me is maybe thirty, with sandy hair and an easy smile. He gestures at the empty stool beside me.
“All yours,” I say.
He sits down and orders a beer, then turns to me with a friendly expression. “I’m Thomas. You here alone?”
“On vacation with a friend.“
I take a sip of my drink. “You?”
“Same. Well, friends, plural. But we have vastly different opinions on buffet food, so I left them to enjoy the scramble.“
He grins. “I tried the steakhouse restaurant earlier. Totally recommend it if you haven’t been yet.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
We chat for a while. It’s easy, surface-level stuff like where we’re from, what we do for work, whether the ship’s gym is worth checking out. Thomas is nice. Friendly. The kind of guy I’d probably be interested in if my heart wasn’t still frustratingly, inconveniently tangled up in someone else.
I keep drinking. Thomas keeps talking. At some point, his stool migrates closer to mine, and his hand lands on my knee.
I shift away slightly. “So, have you done many cruises before?”
“A few.“
His hand follows, sliding higher up my thigh. “But this one’s looking up.”
I remove his hand. “I’m flattered, but I’m not really looking for anything.”
Thomas laughs like I’ve told a joke. “Come on. We’re having fun, right?“
His hand is back, fingers pressing into my leg.
“I said no.“
I push his hand away more firmly this time. “I’m not interested.”
The friendly expression drops from his face like a mask falling away. “Seriously? You’ve been flirting with me for an hour.”
“I’ve been having a conversation. There’s a difference.”
“You fucking cocktease.”
Before I can respond, someone steps between us.
Colter.
“He said he’s not interested.“
Colter’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it I recognize. The same edge he gets when someone lowballs an offer on a property he knows is worth more. Controlled. Dangerous. “Walk away.”
Thomas looks like he wants to argue, but whatever he sees in Colter’s expression makes him think better of it. He mutters something under his breath and disappears into the crowd.
I should say thank you. I should be grateful. Instead, all I feel is tired. Tired and embarrassed and still a little buzzed from the rum.
I slide off my stool and turn to leave.
“Robin.”
Don’t stop, Robin.
“Robin, wait. Please.”
Slowly, I turn.
Colter is standing there, hands at his sides, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read. The bar lights catch the blond of his hair, and for a moment he looks exactly like he did the first time I saw him all those years ago. Before everything got complicated. Before I ruined us by wanting more than what he was willing to give.