Page 136 of Love Overboard
She had been lied to by a man she was considering moving across the world for.
I just wanted to hug her, to tell her it would all be okay — somehow, some day.
Instead, I stood there with my hand still reaching for hers and not a word in my mind that I felt would make anything better.
Leah ignored me, moving on to the martini request. When she poured entirely too much dry vermouth in, I grimaced.
“Hey,” I said, lowering my voice. “If you need a break—”
“Why would I need a break?” she snapped, finally turning to face me. “You think I can’t handle this?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I… I just can see you might be a little shaken from the morning, which is understandable.”
“Nothing shaken but this martini, and I’m only doing that because Russell thinks he’s James Bond.”
She clamped the lid on the shaker hard and got to work, the ice rattling, her arms tense.
“I’m trying to help,” I whispered when she started pouring the drink. I knew just by looking at it that Russell would send it back.
“Right,” she scoffed. “Now you care.”
Bernard, who had joined us from where he’d been steaming a few clothing items for the guests down in laundry, finally spoke up then. “Alright, my darlings. Let’s have a little perspective, yeah? It’s barely midday — bit early to be drawing blood.”
“Oh, now you care about the crew?” Leah’s voice was sharp enough to cut bone. “Sorry, find that hard to believe afterwatching you stir the pot so much, I’m surprised you don’t have tendinitis.”
Bernard barely flinched. “Love, if you need a punching bag, may I suggest the gym? Or perhaps the Scot who has been telling you pretty lies. I warned both of you not to get caught up together.” He pinned me with a glare next. “Guess I should have been handing out those warnings more liberally.”
“We werefineuntilyoupulled that shit in the hot tub,” Leah said, poking Bernard hard in the chest with theyou.
“Hey,” I warned. “That’s enough.”
Bernard smiled at Leah. “I didn’t poke holes in that boat, my darling. I just poured water in and made them harder to hide.”
In the worst possible timing known to man, Gisella swung through the sliding glass doors from the deck, rapping her knuckles on the bar. “Guests are asking about their drinks. Need a hand?”
“Don’t you think you’ve had your hands in enough places they don’t belong lately?” Leah shot at her.
Bernard stifled a laugh.
“Okay, I think everyone is just a little frustrated,” I said, hands on Bernard’s arms as I turned him toward the deck. “Leah’s got this. Bernard, why don’t you go talk to the guests about lunch. Gisella, if you don’t mind—”
“I mind,” she spat before I could finish, and then she whipped around and stormed out of the salon, muttering something in Spanish under her breath. I didn’t need to speak the language to know it was nothing nice.
I ground my teeth just as Leah sent more barware clattering.
“I don’t need you coming to my rescue,” she seethed, spinning toward me with fury in her eyes. “I don’t need your support. I don’t need your fake kindness or yourhands-onmanagement style or whatever the hell you’re trying to do here.”
“I’m not trying to do anything other than help,” I defended, my professionalism slipping. “We’re friends, Leah, and I can tell that—”
“Friends don’t keep secrets,” she said, cutting me off. “You didn’t tell me the truth about Finn, not any of the times I tried to be there for you, and meanwhile, I told youeverythingabout Cameron.” She sniffed, her eyes welling. “And now, I’d bet my tip that you knew more happened with him and Gisella that night and didn’t tell me.”
My jaw hinged open. “Leah, I didn’t. I swear. I—”
“Yeah, well, your word doesn’t count for shit.”
She lifted the tray of drinks then, not giving me so much as another glance as she side-stepped where Bernard and I still stood. She was out the door in the next breath, and a long, slow one deflated out of me.
Bernard’s mouth twisted to the side. “Sorry, Em.”
