chapter sixteen
RILEY
Riles clutching her mother’s urn shattered my heart. I’ve been where she is, holding onto my father’s coffin for dear life, hellbent on not letting go before he was lowered into the ground. I know her pain, her guilt, her regret.
I know her fear and despair.
What I don’t know is her loneliness, because she was right… I did have Mom and Roni when Dad passed. I still do. And although I’ve never felt as lonely as I do now, her solitude and mine are different.
Stepping forward, next in line, I wait my turn at the Guest Services desk.
Riles shouldn’t be alone in grief, and it kills me knowing she has no one to turn to or to help her through the toughest moments of her life.
We’ve only just met, but I can’t stand aside while she crumbles and breaks.
That’s not who I am, as a fellow human being, nor as a man who just had his world rocked by her lips.
That kiss. Jesus! It sparked a fire within me that I thought had long burned out, nothing left but ash and angry embers.
A fire Krystal used to ignite but instead extinguished with her ice-queen heart.
I suspected kissing Riles would spark something, because I’m wildly attracted to her, but never did I imagine it would light the fuse it did. In fact, I think it’s still crackling.
When she so effortlessly dismissed the kiss and the effect it had, I’d been royally pissed.
Hurt even. And in my usual false I-could-not-care-less attitude, I pulled out my asshole card and sent her running to get away from me.
I don’t want to do that anymore. All it ever achieves is me in a bar, licking my wounds and drowning my guilt and sorrow.
It pushes me ten steps back, when I’m supposed to be moving forward.
When I followed her back to the room to demand that she too admit she felt something, anything, I never expected to walk in on the situation I did. But if I hadn’t, I would never have overheard her telling her mom she thought our kiss was incredible.
And it was.
It damn well stopped time.
And I plan to stop it again.
Just not now. Not… yet.
“Next please!” the crewmember behind the desk calls, the same guy from embarkation day, his demeanor pleasant until his eyes land on mine.
I stroll forward, and his shoulders straighten as if he believes I’m here to complain again. “Mr. Wilson, how can I assist you today?”
Resting my elbow on the counter, I lower my voice. “I have some questions about burial at sea.”
His brows shoot toward the ceiling, his eyeballs bulging. “What would you like to know?”
“What’s the process?”
“Do you have remains you’d like to inter?” He clicks his computer mouse and studies his screen, I assume to check my passenger profile to that effect.
“Yes.” I shake my head. “I mean no. I’m just curious what’s involved.”
“Oh! Very well.” He stops clicking. “Because to disperse remains at sea, you must advise the cruise line prior to sailing that you wish to do so, together with presenting a death certificate and a letter from the crematorium stating the urn is biodegradable. Without these documents, I couldn’t authorize nor organize the ceremony. ”
“Ceremony?”
“Yes. If the captain is available at the time, she will oversee the ceremony and say a few words if you wish her to do so. If she’s not available, one of her first, second, or third officers will officiate in her place.
She’ll also take note of the ship’s precise location and then compose a lovely letter with coordinates. ”
“I see,” I say, nodding. “And how about flowers?”
“Fresh flowers can be arranged on board, but artificial flowers or wreaths with ribbon or non-biodegradable matter are not permitted.”
I rub my beard.
“Was there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yes.” I stop rubbing and lean closer. “Do you remember my roommate?”
“The other Riley Wilson?”
“That’s the one. She’s carrying her mother’s remains with her, and I’d like to arrange some flowers for the ceremony, as well as flowers delivered to the cabin for her.”
He resumes his mouse-clicking again. “Yes. I can see Ms. Wilson has notified us of her mother’s remains and her intention to inter them at sea. However, the ceremony hasn’t been scheduled.”
“That’s because she hasn’t scheduled it yet.”
“Right.” He pouts, the same puppy dog pout he did the first time I saw him. “What I can do is make a note in the system to organize the flowers for when she does make final arrangements. Would you like me to do that now?”
I nod. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” He starts typing, his fingers artfully tapping his keyboard. “Did you have a particular bouquet in mind?”
“Uh….” I scratch my head.
Shit! I wouldn’t have a clue. I don’t know her mother’s name, much less what her or Riles’s favorite flowers are.
When I don’t answer, his expression turns sympathetic, or patronizing—I can’t quite tell. “We don’t have a huge selection on board, but our Eternal Remembrance bouquet is the most popular. It has a neutral pallet and—”
“That will be fine. Two of those, please.”
“Certainly. And would you like to leave a personalized message on both bouquets?”
I think of Riles and what she said about her mom. “How about ‘A loving mother and best friend’?”
“Lovely. And the bouquet for Ms. Wilson?”
“Uh… ‘Sorry for your loss’?” I shake my head. “No. That’s too generic.” Riles didn’t lose her mom like a set of car keys, just like I didn’t lose my dad either. “How about ‘You’re not alone.’”
“Splendid.” He touches his chest, pouts again, then continues typing. “All done. Was there anything else I can help with?”
“No, not today.” I push off from the counter and give him an appreciative nod. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
He straightens his shoulders again and smiles. “My pleasure.”
Once I leave the desk, I head back to the cabin but pause before opening the door, remembering to knock first.
“Come in,” Riles calls out, stepping in from the balcony as I enter the room. “Oh! It’s you!” She cocks her head, her puffy eyes amused. “You remembered to knock.”
“I did.” I smile.
Chewing the inside of her cheek, she wrings her fingers together. “Thank you.”
“No sweat.” I slump onto the sofa and stretch my legs out. “How are you feeling? Because if you need more time, I can disappear for longer.”
“No. Please don’t leave on my account.” She takes a seat beside me, angles her body in my direction, and presses her knees together, her hands resting on her lap. “I feel… okay. A little embarrassed, but okay, I guess.”
“Why are you embarrassed?”
“Because you caught me talking to my deceased mother.”
“And?”
She looks down at her hands. “And that’s embarrassing.”
“No it’s not. I still talk to my dad.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, when I’m in the workshop. And I swear the stubborn bastard talks back to me, especially when I screw up the job I’m working on.”
She lets out a mild laugh, and my heart dances a little.
“I swear Mom talks back to me as well.”
Not sure whether now’s a good time to playfully bait her, I decide to do it anyway.
It’ll probably backfire on me, but if it takes her mind off her sorrow, it’ll be worth it.
“What did she say when you told her about the kiss? By the way, you weren’t an…
how did you put it? An overexuberant donkey? ”
Riles’s cheeks bloom as pink as Poppy’s bedroom walls, her mouth forming an O. “You heard that?”
I try not to gloat but fail. “I did.”
“What else did you hear?”
I scratch my head. “Can’t remember.”
“Oh my God!” She shoots to her feet, pacing while she buries her head in her hands.
I chuckle; I can’t help it.
“It’s not funny, Riley. You should’ve knocked like you just did. It’s the rule, damn it!”
“Yeah, one you broke as well, remember?” I grin like a greedy fucker, remembering the way her eyes practically licked the droplet of water from my chest.
She stops pacing. “Let’s not talk about that.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s nothing to talk about.”
I call bullshit. She likes me; I can tell. But I need to tread carefully, for her sake more than mine.
Raising my arm, I rest it on the back of the sofa and prop my head up with my hand. “So you enjoyed the kiss, huh?”
“What?”
“It was—” I pretend to think about it. “—incredible?”
“Riley!” she shrieks again. “You just said you couldn’t remember what you heard!”
“I remember that part.”
She growls her adorable cub growl and turns her back on me. “I can’t believe you.”
“Ease up, Riles. I’m just playin—”
“No!”
“It was a great kiss.”
“So what if it was?”
I smile and wait for her to continue, because I know she will, especially if I don’t say anything.
“Regardless of if it was or wasn’t,” she says, fiddling with the daily newsletter, “it won’t happen again.”
My smile plummets. “Why not?”
“Because it can’t. We’re sharing a room, and… and…” She turns to face me again. “You’re getting a divorce.”
“What’s my divorce got to do with it?”
“They’re messy and complicated. Plus, I’m not a rebound, Riley. I never have been, and I never will be.” She crosses her arms over her chest in a show of defiance. “And I don’t do one-night stands. They’re not for me.”
I smirk. “They’re not for me either.”
Her eyebrow rises, insinuating I’m lying, and it pisses me off. I don’t do one-night stands, much to Roni’s and Ben’s encouragement. But one night can lead to two, and two can lead to three, and so on and so on, so you gotta start somewhere if you want to go anywhere.
Dying to put forward my very logical and valid point, I choose to let it go instead.
Now’s not the time to take this further.
I’ve succeeded in distracting her from her thoughts of her late mother, but there are other ways I can continue to do that, ways that don’t potentially lead to her severing my head from my neck.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I say calmly, eyes locked on hers. “When I say I don’t do one-night stands, I mean it. They don’t interest me.” I snag the TV remote and press the On button.