by Jordyn White
“You’re a good daughter to accommodate her,” Jack says, “and we’re such good friends to go along with it. I mean, not many people would be willing to put up with a whole day of yachting, but for you honey...”
Isabella laughs. “I’m actually kind of excited, too. Does that make me shallow?”
“Yep,” Sam says, “but you’re in good company. We’ll all be good and shallow with you. I just want to know if I’m supposed to wear heels with my bikini or something.”
“Your diamond-studded bikini,” I add.
“Ah darn,” she says, “I accidentally left it in the limo.”
“Actually,” Shane says, “I think Ashley’s going to be more excited than anyone.”
“Me?” Ashley says in surprise. “Why me?”
Shane and Isabella are walking arm in arm and smile at each other. “You’ll see,” Isabella says.
We make it to the docks and up the gangplank at last. As we board the Golden Pearl, we’re wrapped in the intoxicating spell of extravagant wealth. The rest of the group is on deck and has apparently been waiting for us so that the porters, in their smart little uniforms, can take everyone on a tour.
I don’t even bother trying not to gawk as we’re led through exquisite lounge rooms, a fully-equipped kitchen, and the huge dining hall with overflow onto a private dining deck. We peek into luxurious state rooms, admire the game room complete with three pool tables, and drool over the theatre with plush bucket seats.
“Good god,” Sam says. “Who lives like this?”
“We do, baby,” Jack says, “for the next eight hours.”
“They’ll have to drag my ass off this boat kicking and screaming,” she says. “Do you think I could stow away in a closet or something?”
“You could stow away in a bottle, Shorty.”
“Shut up, Jack.”
The main level features the largest of the yacht’s two pools, situated on the huge deck at the bow. There’s a sizeable Jacuzzi as well. Inside is a massive lounge. Here we’re greeted with a large buffet of croissant sandwiches, paninis, fruit, antipasto platters, and desserts. Apparently we’ll be taking our plates to the deck so we can eat lunch while enjoying the view during departure. This would sort of be considered “casual dining” were it not for the fact that we’re aboard a freaking yacht.
While Jack eyes the desserts eagerly, we finally discover what Ashley has to be excited about. On the far side of the room is a full-sized, grand piano.
“Is that a Fazioli?” Ashley breathes, breaking from the group and rushing up to it. Gaping at it, she runs one hand over the sleek wood and checks out the imprint on the front. “This is a Fazioli!” She looks back at us with her mouth hanging open.
“Enjoy,” Isabella says, smiling.
Ashley sinks onto the bench, her eyes drinking in the piano as if she’s died and gone to heaven.
“And that’s the last we’ll see of her,” I say, grinning.
“I guess that’s a pretty good piano, eh?” Sam says.
“Ranks right up there, from what I understand,” Shane answers.
Before Ashley can start playing, however, the captain arrives to introduce himself and welcome us. We’re assured the crew is there to make us comfortable and we’re not to hesitate if we need anything at all.
Jack has subtly shuffled himself closer to the food tables. He’s waiting for the first polite opportunity to strike, I know. Actually, the way he’s eyeing the mini tarts, I’m not sure he’ll make it that long.
At last, we’re released from the formality of the tour, the captain departs, Jack dives for a tart, and Ashley starts playing. As the first notes of her song fill the room, a temporary silence falls over the crowd. A few people wander over, drawn by her magic. Only Ashley could do justice to the grandeur of our surroundings. At the conclusion of the piece, she nods graciously to their astonished compliments and starts another song.
I smile. This place is truly heavenly. What’s not to love about it?
As I turn toward the food tables, Sam reminds me. I’m just in time to see her go up on tip toe and plant a firm kiss on Grayson. I look away and abruptly head for—no place in particular, it turns out—with the image of them kissing still burning into my eyes.
Turns out heaven is plenty large enough to hold a little piece of hell.
Chapter 13
Our journey down the coast is truly magnificent, or would be if I weren’t feeling increasingly hemmed in by the fact that I’m here with Sam and Grayson. In spite of the size of this thing, I can’t seem to escape them. And I’ve tried. But no matter where I go, someone draws me back to the group.
Jack was the latest culprit. He found me lounging on one of the upper deck chairs and decided that wouldn’t do at all. After luring me to the deck of the main pool to join the others, he unceremoniously picked me up and threw me into the deep end.
It was a welcome diversion, as it turns out. There we all were—the Firework Girls, Jack, Shane, and Grayson—dunking, splashing, and generally messing around, and I forgot for a while to be upset. In fact, I rather enjoyed being so close to Grayson in a suit.
Hottest guy present, hands down.
But when the rowdiness hit a lull and Sam, in her cute little string bikini, wrapped her arms around Grayson’s neck with that flirty look she gets, I couldn’t stay. Under pretense of getting a drink from the poolside bar, I extricated myself from the scene and ended up face-down on a lounge, sunbathing.
That’s where I’m at right now. I figure if I’m within sight of the group maybe they’ll stop reeling me back in. I really, really don’t want to do this anymore.
Every time they all erupt in laughter, it’s Grayson’s laugh that makes my heart ache.
How did I get myself into this mess?
Another twenty minutes or so go by. I flip to my back and watch as the group slowly makes their way to the shallow end, apparently on their way out of the pool.
Sam and Grayson exit first, heading for the towel rack next to me. Of course. Of all the lounges I could’ve parked myself on, why did I choose this one?
I inwardly sigh, but outwardly plaster on a smile. They’re both grinning and start drying off. We hear Ashley squeal and look in time to see Jack has sneak attacked her and dunked her under the water.
“I’m convinced Jack is in love with one of you,” Grayson says as Jack bounds up the steps, laughing, “but hell if I know which one.”
“I’m his favorite,” I say automatically, retreating to an old joke.
“You wish,” Sam says.
“Girls, girls,” Jack says, drawing near with an impish grin on his face. “There’s plenty of me to go around.” He raises both arms and flexes his muscles dramatically. “Oh yeah. Look at those biceps. Try not to swoon, fair ladies.”
Sam throws a towel at him but he catches it deftly. “Get over thyself.”
He winks at her and throws the towel over his head, rubbing vigorously. Ashley, Isabella, and Shane come up and grab their own towels.
“Oooh Chloe,” Sam says, eyeing a guy across the pool and sinking down next to me. “That’s the one right there.”
“The one for what?”
“Your date for the reception. He’s perfect for you.”
I glance at Grayson, who meets my eye then looks away. “No thanks,” I say.
“Come on,” Sam says, “he’s so cute.”
I take a better look at the target. He’s in red swim trunks and lying on a lounge across the pool from us. “I guess.”
“Are you blind? He’s completely f—”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
I glance at Grayson. He looks irritated. Maybe he doesn’t like Sam drooling over the cute guy over there.
“Come on, Chloe,” Sam continues. “I say we go over there and get you in his line of sight. I’ll be your wing man.”
“Ugh. Pick on Ashley for once, would you?”
“Good luck with that,” Isabella says smiling.
“Ashley and I have an understanding,” Sam says dismissively, waving her hand.
“You have an understanding with Sam?” I say to Ashley. “How do I get me one of those?”
Ashley’s face is impassive and she’s not quite meeting my eyes. It occurs to me just how little I’ve seen Ashley dating over the years. She’s gone on dates, yes, but not many, and she’s never been serious about anyone. She claims she doesn’t have time for relationships, what with all of her practicing, but she’s never had difficulties making time to hang with us.
Ashley shrugs and says lightly, “A little bribing and threatening gets you a long way with Sam.”
“That’s true,” Grayson pipes in.
I look at him sharply, but he’s drying off, not looking at me.
“Oh come on,” Sam says. “I’m just trying to help. You’re my friend. I can see you need some spanky hot sex.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grayson glance at me, but I’m looking Sam directly in the eyes. “Cut. It. Out.”
She tilts her head at me and I see she’s finally gotten the message. “Oh fine,” she says easily. “I’ll just let you admire him from afar.” She winks at me and pats my arm, then stands and goes to Grayson.
“As for you mister.” She snakes her arm around Grayson’s waist. “I have something I want to show you.”
My heart drops and I look away to the pool. My skin is crawling. Throughout the day, I’ve seen a few couples sneaking into the state rooms. I wonder if that’s where Sam and Grayson are heading.
I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.
“We’re going to go play pool,” Isabella says to me, as Sam and Grayson disappear inside. “Want to join us?”
“They’re going to play pool,” Ashley says. “I’m getting my tail back to that piano.”
“Actually, I think I’m going to get cleaned up.” I stand, not looking at anyone.
“Dinner’s not for a while,” Shane says. “You have time.”
“And maybe take a nap,” I add.
“Okay,” Isabella says with a wave. “We’ll catch you later.”
I force myself to smile as they leave. I head to the lower level and the cabin with several of our bags in it, feeling sick to my stomach the whole way.
Once I’m showered, changed, and done with my makeup, I’m a little more in control. But just a little.
I follow the sound of Ashley’s music to the main lounge. She’s still in her shorts and tank, not yet changed for dinner. I pick an empty spot on the couch nearest her and sink onto it, letting the comforting lilt of the music wash over me. I could listen to Ashley play all day.
She wraps up one song and flows easily into the next. This one is sort of haunting and pulls out all my longing for Grayson. Or maybe any song would do that right now. I was longing for him before I even sat down. Heart aching, I sink lower on the couch and let my head rest on the back, watching her. She catches my eye and gives me a questioning glance. I can’t bring myself to smile or pretend.
As she finishes the number, an older couple comes over and requests a song. She rarely refuses requests, but she graciously backs out of this one, eyeing me the whole time.
They finally leave and she comes over and sits next to me. “So,” she says gently, “how are you handling the thing with Grayson?”
I sigh. I don’t even know where to begin.
“That good, huh?”
I shrug. “It doesn’t really matter. It’s too late to tell Sam now.” It’d be even worse.
“Do you wish you’d said something?”
“I don’t know. No. It still wouldn’t have been fair. To either one of them.”
Ashley gives me an appraising look. “Why do I get the feeling,” she says slowly, “that you’re not telling me something?”
“Probably because I’m not telling you something.”
She sinks low and lays her head on the back of the couch too, waiting. My heart starts pounding in anticipation of my impending confession.
“I...” How do I say this? I lower my voice and try again. “I kind of still have feelings for Grayson.”
Her eyebrows raise.
“Actually, that’s not quite right, either,” I continue.
Ashley furrows her brows at me. I sit up slightly and look around to make sure Sam and Grayson are nowhere in sight. I settle back and turn back to Ashley.
“I sort of fell in love with Grayson that night,” I say lowly.
“What?!”
“Shhh!” I look around again. The scene hasn’t changed.
“How could you fall in love with him?” she whispers urgently.
“I don’t know,” I say miserably.
“I thought you said it was just a one-night stand.”
“It was one night, but it wasn’t a one-night stand.” That’s never felt like the right phrase for what happened between us. It wasn’t a one-night stand at all. It was the Night of Grayson, and those are two completely different things.
I proceed to tell Ashley what happened—as best as I can explain what I thought I felt between us—along with what happened the next morning. A few times tears start to rise up, but I push them back down. I can’t cry over Grayson. Especially now.
When I’m finished, Ashley says, “Oh, sweetie.”
I shrug miserably. What’s to be done?
“Okay,” she says gently, “you have to tell Sam.”
“What? No!”
“She has to know.”
“Why? What difference does it make? I ran out on him. It’s not like there’s any chance of us getting back together.”
“But... this has to be killing you. Sam wouldn’t want to put you through that.”
“It’s—” I sigh. “Look, I’ve thought about all this a hundred times. But how crappy would it be for me to pull the rug out from underneath them?”
Ashley frowns, not quite convinced.
“I can’t do that to him again and... yeah it sucks that he’s here with Sam but it’s not like that’s going to last forever. Plus it’s Isabella’s wedding and...” I hesitate before putting voice to a relatively new fear, “what if Sam gets mad?”
“Why would she get mad?”
“You remember what happened with Loni.”
Ashley pauses. I can see by the hesitation on her face that she does remember Loni.
Loni was Isabella’s roommate freshman year, but we all hung out together and got pretty close. Sam cut her off after Loni slept with Sam’s ex. Loni thought Sam wouldn’t care because he was practically a one-night stand, but Sam was livid. She just couldn’t get over the fact that Loni would sleep with the same guy she slept with. The rest of us tried to patch things over, but it was just over between them after that.
“This is different, though,” Ashley says.
“But is Sam going to think it’s different? Especially when I could’ve said something right away but didn’t?”
“I don’t know. I think she would. Probably.”
Yeah, that’s about how certain I feel about it. “Look, it doesn’t matter anyway. Telling Sam doesn’t change anything and I don’t want to risk upsetting the cart in the middle of Isabella’s wedding week. There’s just no point. I can’t be with Grayson anyway and he’ll be out of her life too, soon enough. I just need to get through this and then it’ll be over.”
Ashley sighs. “I guess, but God, honey. This sucks.”
I nod. “Yeah. It helps to talk about it, though. Thanks for listening.”
Ashley gives me a sympathetic smile.
I do feel a little better. I just need to get through the rest of the week. In three days I’ll be on a plane back to Boise and life can go back to normal.
I try to ignore the ache that thought creates, while Ashley returns to the piano to play me my favorite song.
Chapter 14
About an hour later, Ashley leaves to get ready for dinner and I go to the upper deck just in time to see the sun sin
k into the water. The yacht is on its way back to the resort, so I circle around to the other side to watch the twinkling lights of the little town on the coast. I’m not even sure what town it is. We’re still a couple hours from docking, I think, but we’ve been traveling at such a leisurely pace I don’t really know how far we’d gone before we turned around to head back.
I hope dinner isn’t assigned seating, or if it is, I hope I’m far away from Sam and Grayson. It’s easier to handle everything when they’re not right in my face. Though, in spite of all my avoidance maneuvering, this evening still hasn’t been easy at all.
Then I hear his voice. “Hey.”
I spin to see him coming along the promenade deck. He’s wearing slacks and a nice button-down shirt and is back to looking impossibly handsome. He’s alone—and giving me a rather serious expression—but I still glance around for her. “Where’s Sam?”
“Getting ready.”
He comes up next to me and leans on the rail, turning his attention to the shoreline.
I go back to the view as well. I should leave. But I don’t.
We stand there in silence for a few moments, the town sliding by in front of us. Without moving my head, I glance down at his hands. They’re clasped loosely together. I want to run my fingers over them.
“How’s your channel going?” I finally ask, unable to bear being so close to him without either kissing him or speaking. Since the first isn’t really an option...
“Pretty good.”
I guess that’s all I’m going to get. I nod. “That’s good,” I say awkwardly. I really, really should go, but I like being here with him.
“When did you move to Boise?” he asks.
“About...” Six days after I met you, “...nine months ago.”
I can’t help but look at him when I say it. He’s watching the shoreline, but gets a strange expression on his face. I don’t say that I spent all six of those days fighting the urge to go to his house and beg him to forgive me. I swear, the job offer in Boise was the only thing that saved me.