by Deb Lee
Moments later, feeling like she’d just walked through fire and came out unscathed, Sophie approached the concierge’s same blue counter top, with the same ever-lovely Natalia tapping away on her keyboard with a lollipop hanging from her mouth.
Natalia looked up. “Hey, hun, aren’t you looking fancy-Nancy. How’d your day go?”
“Just peachy, princess, thanks.”
Natalia yanked the sucker from her mouth. “Well, you’re still here so your emergency must have worked out.”
“It did, thanks. And my name is Sophie, not hun.” She politely smiled.
“Oh, yeah, for sure. Like Sofia the First.” She giggled. “What can I do for you?”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I need help locating a friend. I’m not sure if he made it back to the ship and I’m worried. I have his key card so I don’t know how he got back on.”
“Oh, no problem, Fia. Can I call you Fia? I like Fia. It dazzles.”
“No. My name is Sophie. Now, my friend?”
Natalia clicked the mouse at lightning speed. “I can tell you right now everyone’s checked in and accounted for. They would have done a roster check if not. And any time a passenger loses a key, they just need their ID to get back on board.” She plopped her arms over the counter. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved when someone’s left behind?”
“I can only imagine. But I can’t find my friend, who I expected for dinner tonight.”
Natalia stuck the lollipop back in her mouth. “Oh, that friend. It’s a pity really . . . I mean, that sort of face should not endure such a catastrophe.”
Wait? Catsatsa-wha? Sophie’s stomach sunk. “What do you mean? What catastrophe?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? I’m sorry, hun.”
Didn’t know what! Her limbs filled with tar but summoning all her might, she slammed her hands on the counter. “What. Happened.”
Natalia jumped back, her eyes anchored at attention. “I don’t know. I walked out of the break room, which is right next to the infirmary, as the doctor rushed him into Exam Room One. He was all blotchy and puffy. Not the chiseled fine specimen of a man I saw earlier today.”
Sophie’s gut wretched. Blotchy? “Are you sure?”
“You don’t forget eye-candy like that.”
Sophie’s mind raced a million miles a minute. What could have happened? And if it was so bad, why didn’t they call a medi-flight? Too many questions. She had to find him now. “Thanks, Natalia.”
“You bet, Sophie. I’m sure he’ll be fine. But here.” Natalia handed her a key card. “It’ll give you access through the employees-only deck. Do you know where that is?”
Sophie shook her head.
Natalie quickly scribbled a map on a piece of paper and gave her directions. “Good luck.”
Sophie pivoted on her heel but before she dashed off, she turned back to Natalia. Opportunities to mess with Donovan only presented themselves once in a blue moon. And after the bromance scheme they concocted for her this morning, she couldn’t resist. “Give me your pen.”
Natalia obliged and handed Sophie the Colossal Cruise ink pen. Sophie took Natalia by the wrist and scribbled a ten-digit phone number on the back of her hand.
“What’s this?”
“My friend Donovan’s number. Call him. He will take you out and show you the time of your life. He knows every hot bar in San Francisco.”
“Oh?” Natalia’s lollipop smile stretched from ear to ear.
“If he tries to make an excuse or tell you you’re not his type, trust me, you are exactly what he deserves.” She waved her hand in the air in a zigzag motion from Natalia’s head to torso. “All of you. And if he fights it, tell him this is Sophie’s thanks for attempting to hold her captive earlier.”
Sophie winked at Natalia and rushed toward the elevator.
~ ~ ~
“You feeling better, Mr. Pike?”
Ryan sat on the hospital bed and pulled his shirt closed, needing to use more effort than normal to fasten the buttons. “Good enough, Doc,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “I think the numbness is about gone.” His jaw tingled, which was good. He’d read about the effects from epinephrine, but to experience it first hand was something else.
“You look a hundred percent better than you did when they dragged you in here. From now on, you need to carry an epi-pen.”
“Got it, Doc.” Ryan pressed his tongue against his teeth, it was still thicker than normal. He wondered if his speech sounded as off to the doctor as it did to him. Like how he sounded after having a cavity filled.
“Did you know you were allergic to bees?”
“I do now.”
“It’s not uncommon to learn about these things later in life, but you’ll be fine. No alcohol tonight, and take it easy. As the medicine wears off, you may experience a few of these symptoms.” The doctor handed Ryan a paper pamphlet and stepped out of the room, or really, the other side of the plastic curtain.
He briefly glanced over the pamphlet, which covered every possible seasick ailment from Norovirus to gastrointestinal illness. About halfway down the second section in a font too minuscule to register, Ryan read that side effects from epinephrine included difficulty breathing; irregular heartbeat; nausea; vomiting . . .
The sound of the curtain being forced open jolted Ryan. If angry had a face, she was staring right back at him, and, man, did she look good.
“So now you’re dying on me?” Sophie invited herself in and pulled the curtain closed behind her.
“Hope you didn’t start writing my obituary. You look absolutely stunning.”
“Thanks, are you okay?” She prodded his body like a treasure seeker looking for the trap door.
Ryan took her hands in his. “I’m going to be okay if I don’t chew off my tongue while I talk. Everything is still pretty numb.”
“What happened?” She relaxed and leaned against the bed. “I half expected you to look like The Thing from Fantastic Four.” Her touch sent a warm rush that countered the numbness of the anaphylaxis. The things her touch did to him.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“So,” Sophie said, hopping up onto the bed. “What’s the verdict?”
“Apparently, I’m allergic to bees.”
“You didn’t already know that?”
“I guess not. Or maybe I just wanted you to see me laid up like this so you could nurse me back to health.”
“Keep dreaming.” A slow smiled stretched across her mouth.
“Sorry I bailed on our dinner. You really do look nice. By the time I realized what was happening my fingers and tongue were too swollen to tell you.”
“I figured something had to have happened. Did you get your call made? Do you want to go eat now?”
Ryan shook his head. Phil. He’d almost forgotten. “I’d love to but I still have to go to the conference room and call my boss. They have hi-speed Internet there and I need to look at some files he sent.”
Sophie pouted.
“How about after?”
“Definitely.”
Ryan stood to finish buttoning his shirt, but Sophie brushed his hand away. “Let me.”
Who was he to argue? While she concentrated on his buttons, he concentrated on her face. He could get used to her hands on him. “Sorry if I worried you. Trust me, bee stings are no joke.”
“I’m just glad you’re not a corpse on your way to Davey Jones’s locker.”
Ryan gave her a thoughtful look. “About earlier today . . .” he started, but his voice trailed.
Sophie’s cool hand grabbed his. “It’s okay. I’m glad I finally told you.” She patted his chest. “All done.”
He smiled. With her in arms reach, he set his hands on her hips. She felt so perfect. She looked up at
him and returned the smile. He wanted to fix her. Fix the girl who cried in his arms today. Everything that was about to unfold about the merge and the café closing needed to be gently unpacked. She had every right to be so invested in her outreach, but she was also vulnerable. She shouldn’t find out by some office suit who didn’t know her name from her employee number. The news needed to come from him. And he would do his best to make it right. “I want to talk about what happens after the cruise.”
Sophie seemed to deflate. “As in you go back to Texas and I work on finding a cheaper location?”
Ryan cleared his throat. I mean I want you to come back to San Antonio with me. But he couldn’t ask that. He had to make her come to terms with the café’s closing. Or try to help her.
Don’t put your career over your heart, Red’s voice warned again. Medicine rushed to Ryan’s head and he flinched. “I’ll see you in an hour or so. Meet me at the jazz room? I’ll get my call made and then change and see you there.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to see if I still have a good enough signal to try Charlie again. That girl is going to get an earful from me about answering her phone. She’s not teenagering right if she’s not glued to that thing. That I pay for, I might add.”
Ryan squeezed Sophie’s arm. “I’m sure she’s fine. It’s good for them to have an opportunity to take care of things on their own.”
“Still, I better call. You never know.” Her lips were ripe for the taking, but he didn’t trust his numb lips to follow through on an insatiable kiss, and he didn’t want to give her anything less. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”
Her cheeks pinked, sending an uneasy ripple through Ryan.
As she turned to leave, he knew he had to tell her everything. And he would. Tonight.
Chapter 33
Sophie felt a little less heavy, almost jovial.
A bee sting. Wow.
Things were going well. If she had only taken his calls years ago, rather than assuming the worst, things might have been much different. A warm, swirly, euphoric sensation swaddled her like a newborn baby. Ten years was a long time. And even though he lived so far away, what’s to say they wouldn’t figure out a way to make this work?
She walked on cloud nine toward her room to call Charlie. Sophie was almost there when she realized she still had Ryan’s key card. She meant to give it to him but then she got all caught up in his yummy hotness and, well, she plum forgot.
She checked her phone.
No cell reception and she never did buy a service plan for on board.
Perfect.
She glanced at Ryan’s key card. He wouldn’t care if she saved a few bucks and used his room line to call Charlie. He knew how much the girls meant to her. She’d sneak into his room, call Charlie from his line—surely no one would balk at him making calls to shore—and get out.
It would only take a few minutes. No one would know. And Ryan wouldn’t care. Right?
Even as the plan formed in her head, Sophie knew it was risky.
Amy needed to validate this idea! Where was she anyway? She’d been MIA a lot on this trip. Regardless, she clearly wasn’t here to champion Sophie’s brilliance, so she’d have to wait for the Reader’s Digest version later.
The Do Not Disturb sign hung on the door, but she knew he wasn’t here, so it was safe. Sophie slipped in the key card, and slowly opened the door, sighing in relief that he hadn’t replaced it yet.
She padded into his dimly lit room and closed the door behind her. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her ears. Breaking and entering was a new thing for her.
The heady woody and Irish Spring scent loitered around her. Her face flushed imagining Ryan smelling that delicious. She set the key card on the desk and sauntered across the room to the French doors he’d left ajar. The floor just inside the balcony was damp, and the wadded-up shirt he’d worn that morning lay next to the door. Men. She pushed the door all the way closed and headed to the bathroom for a towel to place over the carpet so the room wouldn’t smell mildewy.
When Sophie flipped on the light, she saw Ryan’s shaving kit strewn about the sink and a towel carelessly tossed on the toilet seat, still damp from this morning. She blushed. He was a messy one.
She checked her hair, combing her fingers through a few strands the rain and displaced earlier and tucked the tendrils behind her ears.
She pinched her cheeks and checked her teeth. Perfect.
Back in the room, Sophie dropped a dry towel over the wet spot and turned on the desk lamp. She reached for the phone and saw a mound of paperwork scattered across his neatly made bed. Did he ever stop working?
She recognized the magazine’s name, Jazz, and its trademark colors: purple and gold. Why would Ryan have Jazz’s paperwork on his bed? Sure, they were part of the same corporation, but it was a completely different magazine. Was he transferring to Jazz?
She tried to pry her eyes from the bed, not wanting to snoop, but if he was leaving Sports Now, and moving to Jazz, she wanted to know.
She placed the handset back on the receiver and scooped up a few of the pages.
All of them were the same off-white, heavy-duty grade with Over the Top, Inc., letterhead. She wasn’t looking at an internal job transfer. Not even close. The wording indicated a merge. More specifically, paperwork completely dissolving Up Front as an entity and folding it into Jazz. The printed words turned blurry, cutting into her like a dull knife, one that rips at the insides until the body bleeds out. Because this was as blunt and painful as an internal shredding.
Sophie blinked rapidly, unable to scroll down the entire page. She knew what a merge meant. Jazz was their online periodical. It meant ninety percent of their journalists were freelance writers.
And employees from Up Front would suddenly find themselves unemployed. No retirement. No health insurance.
Oh, God. She slumped onto the bed. Tears sprung to her eyes, blinding her from reading any further. Sophie cupped her mouth. Donovan’s mom has Alzheimer’s. Crap, he just took her to see The Lion King. He should have saved that money. He’s her only source of support. What if he couldn’t find a job for a few months?
Her heart pounded through her chest and, she couldn’t find the strength to swallow the softball-sized lump. When she looked at the bottom of the paper, she noticed they were printed today, time stamped this morning. After the morning training to be exact. And before he kissed her.
Her grip loosened and the papers fell from her hands, floating back onto the bed. Ryan had used the conference room earlier and printed these pages. But why?
Another pile of papers with his sloppy handwritten notes caught her eye. A list . . .
The dull blade twisted deeper. Each page started with a name. And then notes followed. Sophie couldn’t stop herself.
Donovan—yes—everything Jazz needs and wants. She flipped to the next page.
Terri—no—she flirts too much and appears to copy Lori’s work. Next page.
Lori—maybe—good articles. Next.
Tyler—no—terrible reviews.
Asher—no—just no.
Amy—yes—good fit for Jazz’s “Fit and Flashy” column.
John—no—good guy, not going to cut it. Write a letter of recommendation.
Sophie kept flipping and reading name after name. When she turned to the final page, where her name was listed, she felt ill. But no words followed. Rather, a question mark. Probably a representation of what he thought of her.
I’m a question mark?
All that heaviness that she’d finally shed today came back with a vengeance.
Sophie wrenched her face to the side, wanting to unsee—unknow—what was right in front of her. She tried to come up with any possible scenario that suggested she was misreading this. But the thoug
hts scrambling in her head offered only one conclusion.
He lied to me.
Again.
A gut-wrenching pang tore through her. The familiar betrayal was like a knife shredding the soft layers of her vital organs. She dry-heaved and immediately covered her mouth with the back of her hand, refusing the impulse to purge. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, and he not only betrayed her, but he took her trust and squandered it.
“Oh, God,” Ryan, clearly startled, said from behind her.
She dropped the stack of papers and swung around, narrowing her eyes.
“Sophie, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh really, Ryan?” Sophie stamped her hands on her hips. “I’m a big girl. Why don’t you tell me what it is, then?”
Ryan stood unmoving.
Heat rose in her face, and she could barely stand the sight of him. “How could you?” Her hoarse voice, barely above a whisper.
Ryan shook his head. “I . . . It all happened so fast. I had no idea about the merge until recently.”
“Really, Ryan? No idea?”
“Nothing was solidified until today. It’s been a rough few days.”
“You’re kidding right? Are you serious? Or are you just so delusional that you actually think you’ve had a rough few days.”
“Sophie, this isn’t personal.”
“How can it be any less personal?” She waved her hands across the bed, encompassing everything there. “This is our livelihood.” Her voice waned. “This is our family.”
Ryan let out a sigh as if he were stalling to find the right words. Or cover up. Because isn’t that what two-faced journalists did? Use five-dollar words in their cover stories to keep the opposition close? “I know, Sapphire.”
She stabbed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare.”
“We’ve had to make some hard calls and do what’s best for everyone.”