10
By seven the next morning, Marcel was in the main dining room sipping his second espresso, staring down the bubbly cruise director.
“What do you mean, the captain isn’t available to perform the ceremony? The wedding is on this ship. While we’re at sea. Where else could the captain possibly be?”
“I apologize for the confusion, but Winnie never confirmed a final time, and now the captain has a conflict.”
“So move the captain’s conflict.”
“I’m afraid we can’t—”
“Let me rephrase.“
Marcel set down his espresso. “You’re going to talk to the captain and explain to him that Wayne Flagg’s best man obligations culminate in a wedding at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Mr. Flagg would personally very much appreciate it if the captain could shift whatever he has scheduled to officiate the ceremony. I’ll be here drinking my coffee for the next, let’s say, fifteen minutes. You’ll bring me back the captain’s agreement to perform the ceremony, in writing.”
It was not the cleanest card he’d ever played with Wayne’s name, but it worked. The cruise director returned to the dining room with a minute to spare and a signed note from the captain. Marcel would be sure to take photos of each of them posing with Wayne.
Marcel definitely hadn’t spent those fourteen minutes wondering how he could’ve misread Leo so badly. He’d gone from Marcel’s arms to Wayne’s bed in less than 24 hours. Perhaps he’d been using Marcel all along.
Nope, he hadn’t thought about Leo at all.
Ten minutes later, he stood outside Winnie’s cabin staring at a sealed box.
“You didn’t open it to ensure the cake topper is exactly as ordered?“
Marcel kept his tone pleasant while his thoughts drifted to all the ways he could end her career when they returned to LA.
“No, and don’t yell at me,“
Winnie burst into fresh tears and slammed the door in Marcel’s face. So much for pleasant.
Please please please let this box contain the cake topper and not another client’s karate trophy. He closed his eyes as he made the wish, then tore the box open.
It was the right cake topper and absolutely stunning. Other than the giant crack down the center of the bride’s torso. Marcel composed a small obituary for his patience—and another for Winnie because he made no promises about not throwing her overboard—then started power-walking to the ship’s shops.
He called Wayne on the way.
“Celly.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
Marcel’s snappy tone was met with silence, but today was not the day to play with him.
“Good morning, Marcel. Did you need something from me?”
Better. “The cake topper is broken. I have a plan, but it’s going to cost an astounding amount of money.”
“Charge it to my suite. Make sure they wind up with the cake topper of all cake toppers. Fix it.“
Wayne paused. “I love you, you know.” The call ended.
I love you too. Even if you stole my guy with your fake teeth and fake eyes and fake charisma. Could you lose what you’d never truly had?
At just after ten, Alyssa’s maid of honor chased him down to inform him that Catherine Wallach-Colter had reacted poorly to something at breakfast. Marcel accompanied her to the med bay because she didn’t want Daniel or his siblings bothered. He got Catherine settled, waited while the ship’s doctor administered something to settle her stomach and a bag of fluids to rehydrate, and then walked her back to her cabin.
“You’re very kind,“
she said. Her hand was light on his arm. “Are you Wayne’s—”
“Assistant. Marcel.”
“Marcel, you’re going to burn out, dear.”
“Quite possibly. Perhaps even today.”
They walked a long run of the corridor in silence. When they were almost to Catherine’s door, she asked, “Is Leo all right? I can’t always tell.”
Marcel hesitated. Lady, I don’t think Leo himself could tell you what he’s feeling. He refused to think about how much he yearned to be the one to help him figure it out.
“I think he’s been alone for a long time,“
he said, instead.
Catherine nodded as if he’d confirmed a suspicion. “It isn’t right, for him to be so alone. Don’t you think? We’re all right here.”
Sometimes people are at their loneliest when surrounded by others. “I think he might not know he’s got people waiting for him to show up.”
She squeezed his arm. “Thank you. That was useful.”
By noon, Marcel had everything back on track. The ceremony would take place on time. A replacement cake topper had been created from items sourced from various shops with the help of the ship’s retail manager and crew. Catherine was resting comfortably. He’d touched base with the photographer and the florist and coordinated with the crew members who had been assigned to help with setting up and breaking down the atrium.
He was crossing the pool deck with his tablet in one hand and a growing mental list of apologies in the other when Leo stepped into his path and held out a hot coffee and an egg sandwich.
Marcel stared.
“Five minutes,“
Leo said. “Sit down and eat.” Leo gently pulled the tablet and phone out of Marcel’s hands and folded his own hands over them.
Marcel started to speak, racing to put his thoughts into words. “Just sit. That’s all you need to worry about right now.”
Marcel sat. He ate every bite of the sandwich. Exactly five minutes later, Leo stood up and returned Marcel’s electronics. He gave Marcel a sad smile and a kiss on the top of his head, then walked away.
Was that really what I think it was? Had he misread what happened last night? Or was Leo establishing himself as a part of Wayne’s life—at least for the moment—and telling Marcel he had to live with it?
What did it say about his relationships that he couldn’t distinguish between acts of kindness and those that were transactional?