Page 35 of Love Overboard
Even Max raised a toast to the crew before disappearing back to his cabin.
The guests went to bed full and happy, high on gluten-free truffle gnocchi and thousand-euro bottles of Chianti.
And me and Finn?
We didn’t say a word to each other once the last plate was cleared.
But I think we both knew — we’d done it.
We’d saved the damn charter.
No, we hadn’t been exactlyfriendlyto each other, but it seemed we both had learned from the night before — even if we would never agree on who was to blame for the chaos.
The way he plated and adjusted based on my timing, the way I read his body language without him having to say a word… it had been seamless, electric.
Just like before.
We were good together in a galley. Always had been.
When we weren’t trying to choke each other, anyway.
And if we were going to make this season a success, we needed to find a way to keep that rhythm — without burning the whole damn boat down in the process.
I was still holding Finn’s gaze at the tip meeting, still lost in the weight of it, when Gisella leaned over and kissed his cheek.
It wasn’t possessive, wasn’t anything more than an affectionate, absentminded gesture. But it hit like a match striking dry kindling, setting off a fire in my chest before I could stop it.
I tore my gaze away, back to Cap, to the money, to anything that wasn’t Finn Pearson and his lingering looks and the infuriating way they still made my breath catch.
Gary smirked, lifting the envelope again. “Alright, speaking of being richer — let’s talk numbers.”
The entire crew leaned forward, collective breath held.
“Our first charter tip is… twenty-three-thousand euros.”
The room erupted.
Bernard threw his head back with a whoop, Eli smacked the table like he was trying to wake up the spirits of yachts past, and Gisella and Leah let out almost identical squeals before crushing each other in a hug.
I smiled, and again, my gaze caught Finn’s.
I didn’t let that one linger.
“Bloody good start,” Captain said over the chaos, lifting a hand for some semblance of order. “That comes out to about 2,180 US dollars each.”
More cheers, claps, and whistles rang out as Captain Gary stood to distribute the tips. Off camera, I knew he’d already given our engineers theirs.
Bernard waggled his brows as he accepted his share. “Anyone else feel the sudden urge to make bad decisions tonight?”
Eli clinked his champagne against Bernard’s. “Already ahead of you there, mate.”
Captain Gary rolled his eyes, but his grin said he expected nothing less. “Alright, take your cash, enjoy your night, and let’s make sure we’re not dragging too hard tomorrow. We’re turning the boat and getting ready for round two.”
With that, he left us with a salute and a pointed look to not show up hungover in the morning. The energy in the room was palpable — our first tip in hand, a successful charter behind us, and a night of celebration ahead.
And as I clutched my own cut, I found myself exhaling for the first time since we left the dock.
I needed the break tonight.
