Chapter 4
Champagne and Rope
Dane served dinner just after sunset.
He brought it up from the small galley below deck in covered dishes that smelled of lemon, garlic, and charred herbs.
There was grilled sea bass, roasted vegetables, warm bread wrapped in linen, and a small bowl of strawberries darkened by balsamic glaze.
Nathan had expected prepacked catering. Instead, Dane arranged the plates himself on the aft table beneath a canopy of dim amber lights.
"You cook too?" Marissa asked.
"Enough to keep passengers from mutiny." Dane set her plate down first.
"This is more than enough."
"We'll see after you taste it."
Nathan sat across from her, aware of the captain moving between them with quiet efficiency. Dane did not hover. He poured sparkling water, adjusted a lantern, checked the angle of the table as the boat rocked. Every gesture was competent. Every competency seemed to make Marissa more relaxed.
Nathan hated how much he liked watching that happen.
They ate as the sky deepened. The first stars appeared one by one, tentative at first, then more certain as the city lights faded behind them. Music played low from hidden speakers, something with a slow bassline and a woman's smoky voice singing about rivers and midnight.
"You chose the music?" Nathan asked.
Dane glanced over from the helm. "The boat did."
Marissa smiled. "The boat has taste."
"She usually does."
"She?" Nathan asked.
"Always." Dane patted the wheel affectionately. "A boat will forgive you for arrogance once. Maybe twice. After that she teaches you manners."
Marissa laughed into her glass.
Nathan told himself not to count the number of times she laughed at Dane. Counting would make him ridiculous. He counted anyway.
After dinner, Dane cleared the plates and returned with a coil of pale rope. Nathan raised an eyebrow.
"Part of the premium package?"
Dane's smile was brief. "Knot lesson. Anniversary tradition on my charters. The right knot holds under pressure and lets go when you need it to. Good metaphor if you don't push it too hard."
"I like metaphors," Marissa said.
"I noticed."
The captain set the rope on the table and demonstrated a simple bowline, his hands moving with calm precision. Nathan watched Marissa watch him. Her attention had a physical quality, as if it leaned toward Dane before she did.
"Your turn," Dane said.
Marissa reached for the rope.
She fumbled the first attempt, laughing softly when the loop collapsed. Nathan expected Dane to explain from a distance. Instead, the captain stepped behind her chair and reached around, guiding her hands without taking the rope from her.
Nathan went still.
Dane's forearms framed Marissa's shoulders. His chest did not touch her back, but the space between them narrowed enough that Nathan could feel it from across the table. Dane's hands covered hers, patient and sure.
"Make the loop here," he said. "Good. Now the end comes up through, around the standing line, and back down. Don't force it. Let it find the path."
Marissa's breathing changed. Only slightly. Nathan knew her well enough to notice.
The knot formed under their joined hands.
"There," Dane said. "Strong enough to trust. Easy enough to release."
Marissa looked down at the knot. "That's satisfying."
"Most useful things are."
Dane stepped back.
Nathan let out a breath he had not meant to hold.
"Your turn," Marissa said, sliding the rope toward him.
He made the knot on his first try, but it felt like a victory nobody cared about.
"Nicely done," Dane said.
"Boy Scout," Nathan replied.
"Were you?"
"No. I just wanted credit."
Marissa laughed, and this time Nathan claimed it.
The moment softened. He reached under the table and touched her ankle with his foot. She touched back. For a while they were alone inside their own old language. Dane moved to the helm, giving them space.
Nathan leaned closer. "You look happy."
Marissa's expression shifted, not away from happiness but deeper into it. "I feel awake."
The answer unsettled him more than if she had said yes.
"Have you not?" he asked.
She looked at the rope between them. "Not like this. Not lately."
He nodded because he could not deny it.
"Me neither," he said.
The admission hung there, fragile but real.
Then Dane called from the helm. "We need to decide soon."
Nathan looked up. "Decide?"
Dane pointed toward the shadowed cliffs ahead. They were closer now, black teeth against the moonlit water.
"Harbor route is portside. Hidden cove is starboard. Once we pass the marker, we commit to one or the other."
Marissa's gaze moved to Nathan.
Nathan felt the old automatic husband inside him prepare an answer: back to harbor, safe and sweet, a successful evening, nothing too strange. Then he saw the rope knot on the table. Strong enough to trust. Easy enough to release.
"What do you want?" he asked her.
Marissa did not pretend not to know.
"I want to see the cove," she said.
Nathan's pulse kicked.
Dane said nothing.
Marissa waited.
Nathan lifted his glass and swallowed what remained.
"Then let's see it," he said.