Page 15 of Love Overboard
“I guess we’ll find out,” I replied with a smile that felt as tight as my clenched asshole.Why does she have to be so nice?“If I start sleep-talking about charcuterie boards, just roll me over and tell me I’m pretty.”
She giggled and promised me she’d do just that before she skipped out onto the deck.
Eli pretended like he was going to smack my butt when he slid past me next, but he held up his hands with a smirk at the last moment, casting me a wink and a comment about not calling HR.
I stood there for a brief moment when everyone was gone, savoring the newfound quiet of the salon.
And then I heard my name.
“Ember.”
I closed my eyes for only a second, and then I popped them back open, wide and focused, and clapped my hands together.
“Alright, let’s get this boat in order,” I said out loud to myself, to the cameras, to the viewers I knew would see this one day. I headed back to where I’d been working inventory before the crew meeting with the fakest smile I’d ever worn.
“Ember.”
I ignored the way my heart raced as I wove through the interior of the boat, ignored the faint, familiar voice chasing behind me. I was determined to just focus on my job and the opportunity I’d worked so long for, to ignore the chaos the stupid showrunners were trying to create.
But when I made it to the pantry outside the galley, I was pulled to a stop, a warm hand catching me by the crook of my elbow and spinning me.
And I snapped.
“What, Finn?” My chest heaved, an exasperated sigh clawing out of me as I tore out of his grip. My forced smile fell along with my flimsy attempt at acting unaffected by the latest bomb drop. I lifted my hands and let them drop against my thighs. “What?”
That last word came out breathy and exhausted, almost pitiful, like a dying soldier begging to be put out of her misery. But there was no taking it back now.
I was safe from his touch, but not from his gaze — which cut through me like a scalpel as he stood less than a foot away. His jaw was set, the muscle of it flexing as his eyes flicked between mine.
He looked devastated, like I was a puppy he’d accidentally hit with his car.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I whispered, swallowing, my gaze sliding to the floor between us.
“Ember, I didn’t… I wouldn’t have—”
The words died on his tongue, and even though I was narrowing my gaze at him and preparing to spit venom, I couldn’t help but lean into whatever he was about to say. I wanted his excuses. I wanted to know what choices he would have made differently.
I wouldn’t have lied to you if I’d known it would hurt you this badly.
I wouldn’t have kissed you if I’d known you’d think we were more than just a casual hookup.
I wouldn’t have let you go if I’d known I’d miss you this badly.
That last one was a stupid, aching kind of hope that I was a fool for even thinking. I knew the truth was likely more along the lines ofI wouldn’t have agreed to this show had I known you’d be on it.
Whydidhe agree to this show? I knew why I was here. I had my first shot at chief stew. This was my chance to prove myself not just to my father, but to other captains in the industry. A few charters of this size and I could get my dream job.
The money was fantastic, between what they paid us for each episode and the tips we’d get over the next eight weeks. But why would he need the money if he had his restaurant?
How the hell had he ended up back in yachting at all?
Was it because the restaurant had failed?
Was it because he missed me? (Again, that stupid hope.)
Oh, God… was it forher?
The likelihood of that made my stomach roil. I hadn’t been enough for him, but clearly Gisella was. He was here with her instead of back in Ireland. He’d chosen yachting with her when he’d blatantly shut down that possibility with me.
