She closes the door in my face. I’m momentarily stunned until she opens it again and she leans against the jamb with her arms crossed. “You still can’t talk to her or see her.”
“But I—”
She raises a hand. “She’s not in Vegas.”
“Where is she?”
“In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. She took an internship on a cruise ship.”
Well, this is anticlimactic. “When will she be back?”
“A couple of weeks. She docks in New York.”
I pull out my phone, and Nev grabs it, hiding it behind her back. “No way, dude. You are not going to declare your love over the phone. That’s bullshit. Also, she doesn’t have reception very often, so you probably won’t reach her anyway.”
“All cruise ships have internet.”
“She opted out so she wouldn’t stalk you online. Or get phone calls. Cosy likes clean breaks.”
“What cruise line is she with? Do you have contact information? Do you know what ports they’re stopping in?”
“Why? You planning to helicopter your ass out into the ocean and parachute onto her boat?”
“If I can’t find her in port, that’s a real possibility.”
“Must be nice to be rich.” She turns around and wanders down the hall. “Well, come on, she left me an itinerary so we could plan out our calls.”
I follow her into the apartment. It smells a lot like cinnamon and cloves. Nev is clearly not big on housekeeping, based on the state of the living room. Dishes are stacked on top of each other. Half-empty coffee cups litter the end tables. A few of them look like Petri dish experiments.
She riffles around through a pile of papers on the counter. “Here it is!” She glances at the sheet and then the calendar on the wall. “Says they’ll be docking in Nassau in two days.”
“Can I take a picture of that?”
“I need to ask you something before you do.”
“Sure. Anything.” All I want is to get to Cosy.
“What happens if she tells you she still doesn’t want you back?”
I exhale a long breath and rub my chest. “Then I’ll disappear from her life. I won’t keep trying if there’s nothing to try for, but I think there is, and I’m going to do my best to convince her we’re worth another shot.”
“Good answer.”
“Great. Can I see that now?”
“One more question.”
“Lay it on me.” It’s very clear Cosy and Nev are related.
“This baby mama drama, ex-fiancée BS is where it ends, right? Your family doesn’t have mob ties? You haven’t been convicted of a heinous crime?”
“No mob ties. Once I was arrested for protesting the use of animal-tested products in my university with my cousin, but other than that, my record is clean and the baby mama drama is over. For me, anyway.”
“I still don’t know. She’ll be super pissed at me for this. What if you fuck it up even more? I’m the one who will be over here, picking up the pieces.”
I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and riffle through my cash. I have a couple grand.
“Are you trying to bribe me?” Nev sounds slightly offended, but she’s also eyeing the money.
“If it will work, yes.”
“How much you got?”
“About two grand.”
She holds out her hand.
“Trade at the same time?” I arch a brow.
“Deal.”
I pass her the money, and she passes me the itinerary. I snap a few pictures while she counts the bills. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I would’ve given it to you without the bribe, but extra cash is always great to have, so thanks.” She folds the bills and slides them down the front of her shirt. “It’s as much for me as it is my sister. She was miserable before she left, and she’s been miserable the entire time she’s been away, based on her Spotify playlists.”
“I hope I can fix that soon.” I make my way back down the hall, resisting the urge to peek into Cosy’s room or bathroom just so I can smell her. That’s serial-killer creepy, and I think Nev might not appreciate it.
Nev follows me to the door. “You wouldn’t happen to have any single brothers, or even close relatives?”
“One of my brothers is married and the other one is engaged.”
“That’s too bad. Oh, by the way, we never slept together. I already told Cosy, but that was a while ago and I don’t know if she had a chance to tell you or not. You passed out before anything could happen.”
“I’m not sure if I should apologize for that or not.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I knew you were dead drunk when I followed you to your car. Anyway, good luck winning my sister back.”
“Thanks, Nev.” I’d like to say that news makes me feel better, but I’m not sure it changes anything now.
Despite having just landed in Vegas, I book a flight to Nassau, then head back to the hotel to brief my team and let them know I have an emergency situation I need to take care of.
The conversation with my dad is not quite so smooth.
“If you need time off, Griffin, then take it. Considering what you’ve been through, it’s completely understandable.”
“I don’t need time off, Dad. I just need to take care of something. It’ll take a couple of days max, and then I’ll be back to Vegas and focused on the project.”
“I understand that you’re a private person, Griffin, so I don’t pry into your life and I let you tell me what you want in your own time, but the fact that you want to take an impromptu trip to the Bahamas for two days and are reticent to go into specifics is concerning.”
I’d mentioned in passing that I was seeing someone in Vegas, but I hadn’t gone into detail. I’d told my mother it was causal, that we’d gone on a few dates and she was fun. I love my mother, she’s an incredible woman, but after Imogen broke off the engagement, she’s been dropping datable women options like candy. So telling her I was involved with someone seemed smart, but if I’d made it out to be anything other than causal, there was a good chance she’d be planning a family dinner around meeting her. So I kept it vague, and the fact that I was dating at all seemed to placate her.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I was seeing someone out here in Vegas.”
“Your mother may have mentioned that.”
“Yeah, well, the whole thing with Imogen blew it all apart.” I run a hand through my hair, thinking about how different things might be right now if she hadn’t come barreling back into my life and flipped it upside down. Cosy could be in New York; maybe she would’ve stayed with me.
“I see. So what does the Bahamas have to do with this nameless woman?”
“Her name is Cosy, and she’s interning on a cruise ship. Their next stop is Nassau.”
“Did you say Cosy?”
“Yes.”
“As in cozy by the fire, or tea cozy?”
“Either, but with the British spelling, so an s instead of a z.” I wonder what a pain in the ass it’s been for her to explain that every time she introduces herself.
My father clears his throat. “Well, that’s an interesting name.”
“She’s an interesting woman.”
“She must be if you’re willing to fly across the country to see her.”
“I’m in love with her.”
Silence follows that declaration. Several tense seconds pass before my father speaks again. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I hope you don’t take offense, but exactly what kind of internship is Cosy involved in on this cruise ship?”
“Event management and planning.”
“So, she’s not a stripper?” He sounds both relieved and surprised.
“Jesus. No, Dad, she’s not a stripper.”
“Has she ever been a stripper?”
“No.”
“Are her parents hippies?”
“Seriously, Dad?”
“Cosy’s an usual name, son.”
&nb
sp; “So are Griffin and Bancroft and Lexington.”
I can hear his pen rapping on his desk. “This is true. Okay, well, I guess you better get your ass in gear and get the girl back.”
“That’s the plan.”
“And you’ll have to bring her to New York so we can meet her.”
“If I get her back, I will, but you can’t ask her if her parents are hippies.”
Chapter Twenty-One: Walk the Plank
Cosy
The last thing I want to do is wander around a tropical beach and watch happy couples being happy. FYI, that’s what cruise ships are full of. And single, horny assholes. Including the guys I work with. They’re like dogs sniffing for someone to bone. And they can smell heartbreak from a mile away.
I’ve been hit on more during this internship than I have the entire rest of my life. And I get hit on a fair bit. Especially since I work at an adult toy store. I almost miss the Eugenes of this world. So harmless and predictable, as opposed to the dickbags with pregnant ex-fiancées. Not that I’m cynical now or anything.
After a month on this ship, I should’ve at least made an attempt at a meaningless hookup. And I have. Well, I made a weak attempt. Once. The guy looked a little like Griffin, except less hot, and not as built, and nowhere near as pretty. But if I drank enough shots and squinted hard, he sort of looked like him.
But he smelled wrong and felt wrong, and I cried all over him. Needless to say, tears are not the best aphrodisiac.
I hand my identification to the security guard who looks me over and smirks. I smooth my hands down the front of my shirt, which means I grope my own boobs on the way down, but there’s a purpose for it.
My shirt is black with pink sequins that spell out SASSY AF. This is my day off, and without my uniform, no one recognizes me. Security guy hands me back my card, and I pocket it.
Earl waits for me. He’s actually a decent guy, despite his name. I feel like it belongs to a guy three times his age who wears plaid shirts and has a bad cigar habit. But Earl wears thick, black-framed glasses and has zero interest in me, which is why he’s my best friend on this ship.
Like me, he’s dealing with the aftermath of heartbreak. Except his was a six-day tryst with one of the rich assholes on the boat. Still, he has a case of the sads over the loss of awesome dick, and I can at least relate.
I focus on my feet as we walk down the gangplank. The smell of salt water and fresh air are a balm to my broken heart and soul. Earl was right to drag me off the ship today.
“Oh my God.” He grabs onto my arm dramatically and does the hand-to-head swoon thing. “Check out the super sexy at four o’clock. I wish he weren’t straight.”
I look where he’s pointing and nearly fall flat on my ass. “Oh, fuck no.” I try to do an about-face and go back up the plank, but there are people behind me and Earl’s arm is linked with mine. Also you can’t go back in the same way you come out of the ship.
Earl drags me forward, and my first thought is that I’ve lost my mind without even realizing it. Or someone put a hallucinogen in my coffee this morning. I swear on my childhood collection of Beanie Boos that Griffin is standing at the end of the plank. But that’s not possible. He’s in New York with his preggers ex-fiancée who might be his actual fiancée again by now. And that means I may need to get some professional help.
Or at the very least a sedative.
“Are you okay?” Earl asks.
“Yeah. I just thought I saw my ex.” I shake my head and look toward that same spot, but Griffin is gone. Awesome. I’m imagining people now. We reach the end of the gangplank, hitting ground that doesn’t shift under my feet for the first time in a week. I didn’t get off the ship at the last two ports, hence Earl taking a stand today and forcing me to be a human.
“Cosy!”
I look around, worried that I really am having some kind of break, because now I’m hearing things too.
“You know that guy?” Earl asks.
“What guy?” I look up to find Griffin shouldering his way through the crowd toward me. He’s about fifty feet away and closing in fast.
“The one who looks like a mobster mated with a superhero.”
I glance at Earl, frowning. “That’s exactly what I thought the first time I saw him.”
“If he tears his shirt open and there’s a spandex suit under there, I’m getting pictures with him.”
“No, you’re not. Come on, I need to get out of here.” I grab Earl by the arm and start dragging him in the opposite direction of either a mutual hallucination or Griffin. My plan is to get my ass on the ship and hide out in my room, or maybe Earl’s, until we’re back at sea. At least I got five minutes of fresh air, give or take, and some exercise in the form of running away.
“What? Why? Who is that guy?” Earl looks over his shoulder as I weasel my way through the crowd. I’m small, and Earl is wiry, so we can slip through the gaps fairly easily, unlike Griffin who will have to bulldoze his way through.
“He’s a stalker, clearly.”
“You have a hot stalker?”
“It appears that way.”
“Cosy, please wait!” Griffin yells from somewhere behind me. He sounds closer, so I pick up the pace.
“But how do you know him?”
“I gave him my V-Card.”
Earl’s eyes go wide. “How long has he been stalking you?”
“Just a couple of months.”
Earl comes to an abrupt halt. Since we’re connected at the crook of the elbow, I almost clothesline myself and end up on my ass on the pier. “Hold the disco ball, you were a virgin until a couple of months ago?”
“Don’t judge. Now come the fuck on, I have no desire to talk to him.” I yank him through the crowd.
“What the hell happened?”
“It’s a long story including a pregnant ex-fiancée. I’ll elaborate once we lose him.”
We pop out of the crowd like a slippery newborn. I’m about to break into a sprint when Griffin jumps in front of me and spreads his arms wide. “Cosy, please.”
He’s not even out of breath, and I’m wheezing like an eighty-year-old with respiratory issues. “What are you doing here? Better yet, how did you find me, stalking stalker who stalks?” I yell, and cough.
“Just give me two minutes. Please.”
“The last time I gave you two minutes, it didn’t turn out well for me.”
People move past us, slowing and staring. I’d be embarrassed but I’m pissed, and freaked out because I want him here, but the fact that he is raises a shit ton of red flags and questions, like is he actually stalking me? And maybe that whole serial-killer hypothesis wasn’t too far off base?
“Besides, I’m over you. I have a new boyfriend, and he gives me orgasms just by looking at me.” I snuggle up to Earl and hug his bony arm.
I can feel Earl glaring at me like I’m insane. I might very well be at the moment. Griffin glances from me to Earl and back again, eyebrow raised in disbelief. It might have been more believable had Earl not been wearing a T-shirt with the phrase LIVING MY BEST GAY LIFE stamped over his chest in rainbow letters.
“I think you should give him two minutes,” Earl says.
“Hotness doesn’t equal a good choice, Earl. He has a baby mama,” I reply.
“It’s not mine,” Griffin injects into our side conversation.
I unhook my arm from Earl’s so I can plant my fists on my hips. “How stupid do you think I am?”
“Imogen lied. I wasn’t even in the country when she got pregnant.”
I stare at him for several long seconds, looking for signs that he’s lying. I can’t remember if looking up and to the left or right means you’re recalling or fabricating information. Regardless, he looks so broken, eyes all kind of sad and desperate. It takes me more time than is reasonable for all those words to sink into my brain. “How can you know that?”
“I went to an ultrasound appointment with her. The technician said she was three weeks further alo
ng than what she originally told me. Even if they were off by a week either way, I wasn’t in the US.” His expression is shadowed in anger and what is probably betrayal.
What he’s telling me, in a very public place, with bystanders slowing to listen, hits me right in my already bruised and battered heart. “Wait a second, that bitch cheated on you?”
“Yes.”
“And she tried to play the baby off as yours?”
“Yes.” He jams his hands in his pockets.
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry she did that to you. I would kick her ass if she weren’t pregnant.” I’m not much of a fighter, but I’d break my hand if I could also break her too-perfect nose and knock out a couple of teeth to get a little retribution for Griffin, and maybe myself, seeing as she’s the reason for all the unnecessary drama.
Griffin grins, but sobers quickly. “I’m sorry she lied, and cheated, and manipulated me, and I feel sorry for that kid, but I’m not sorry it’s not mine.”
“This is so Springer. Y’all should see if you can get on that show. I hear they pay like a thousand dollars or something.” I’d momentarily forgotten that Earl was still here, listening to us.
“Griffin’s a billionaire; he spends that on a bottle of champagne.”
Earl slaps his chest and his mouth drops open. “Girl, you’ve been keeping all this juicy goodness to yourself for more than a month. You need to spill all the details when we’re back on the ship.”
I put a hand on his arm, sort of apologizing since he’s my closest friend here. “I was trying to get over him.”
“Can we talk, Cosy? Just the two of us?” He’s not giving Earl the evil eye, although I suppose he realizes he’s not much of a threat, since I don’t have the right genitals to seduce him. Also, Griffin could probably bench-press him with one arm. Earl is a foot taller than me, and we almost weigh the same. He can wear my jeans like capris.
Earl looks at me, giving me his don’t-be-crazy eyes. “I’ll catch up with you later. Text if you need any help.” He waggles his brows suggestively, hugs me, and kisses me on the cheek. As he passes Griffin, he gives him a lingering once-over. He points two fingers at his eyes, then aims them at Griffin while mouthing I’m watching you. As an afterthought, he adds, “You better not make my girl cry.”
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