I really fucking like MK already. “I’m really the last person you need to be worried about saying the wrong thing in front of. I mess up my words all the fucking time.” I pause. “At least it feels that way.” Sometimes I wonder if it’s all in my head. If I’m just overanalyzing my social flaws and failures more than those around me.
She relaxes. “I’ve been single for a while, so I just bit the bullet and figured, why not now? I never thought the surrogacy agency would match me with Maximoff and Farrow.”
“You knew who they were?”
“I mean…” She blushes again. “Yeah.” Her gaze drifts around the yacht. “I still can’t believe I’m here, honestly. They’ve been so nice…” Her smile fades, then she glances warily at Jane.
“What’s wrong?” Jane asks while brushing Oreo crumble off her baby bump.
“I really like Farrow and Maximoff. I didn’t expect them to make me feel like I have more friends in Philly…and this is their baby girl. Once she’s born, I’m not the mom—I do not want to be the mom at all.” She takes a breath. “And I guess the more I love their friendship, the harder it’s going to be when I have to leave.”
I frown. “Why can’t you stay?”
She swishes her feet in the water again. “The surrogate who gave birth to me never stuck around. She wasn’t a part of my life. I don’t want to complicate anything for Maximoff and Farrow. So I’m going to go—I have to go.”
Aunt Rose gave birth to my little sister via surrogacy, but she’s still a part of our lives—and she’s never treated Winona as anything other than a niece. Respecting my mom as the mom. And I think Aunt Rose was trying to be fair to me too, not wanting to play favorites between me and Nona.
I could say this to MK, but I struggle to share private facts about my sister. MK isn’t a fucking stranger—just to be on this yacht as a guest, you’ve earned a lot of trust—but she’s not someone I know 100%. And with how starstruck she’d been around my parents, I’m just cautious.
Before I find a good response in my head, Gabe Montgomery strolls over to the hot tub. “Room for another?”
Is he purposefully flexing?
I blurt out, “Are you flexing your pecks?”
“Am I?” He watches his left tit jump, then his right.
Millie Kay blushes more, fingers to her forehead.
Jane muses, “How does one isolate their pecks?”
“Montgomery!” Oscar shouts from the main deck.
“See ya, ladies and babies.” He moon-walks backwards to SFO and Frog, who are drinking and eating around the pool.
After Summer Fest, I heard the whole details of that night. How Thatcher did use comms after he fired his gun, and he ordered Gabe to check on the “target”—Banks’ words. So that’s why Gabe ran away. He was actually running towards the shooter, and it’s good to see the whole ordeal didn’t shake him too fucking badly.
Akara worried Gabe might quit—too stressful, too dangerous of a job—but he didn’t, and he’s still living at the apartment with Quinn and Donnelly.
Moffy approaches with a tray of desserts for us.
“How’d you fucking know?” I already finished my cupcake and definitely wanted another.
“Didn’t you hear? My mind reading superpowers are finally kicking in.”
“Oh fuck, I hope not.”
They all laugh.
“Is that a bucket of pop?” Millie Kay stands up, eyeing the cooler. “I’m going to get a Fizz Life.”
“I can get it for you,” Moffy offers, but she’s already making a quick exit. He scrunches his face. “Do I stink?” Glancing back at MK, he frowns in deep, deep thought.
“She loves you, old chap,” Jane assures.
“And what’s not to fucking love?” I chime in.
He wears a softer smile, then sinks down beside me. “I tried to pay for the second yacht. After five-minutes of me saying, take it, they wouldn’t accept the money.”
He means our parents. Jane, Moffy, and I all planned to chip in and pay for Yacht #2—the one cruising alongside us and where we’ll hop on to sleep. Our families’ own both yachts, but there are costs to chartering them. (Fuel, paying the crew, food, etc.) And with the amount of people onboard, we had to charter two vessels.
We also wanted all of Omega to stay on our boat and not on a smaller vessel like security usually does. So Yacht #2 houses almost everyone thirty-five and under. But the teenagers have to stay with our parents on the Senior Citizen Voyager—their nickname, not mine.
Though it’s a fucking funny one.
“We have money,” I defend. “And we’re adults—they have to let us pay for stuff.”
“Oui,” Jane agrees. “Let’s try again. We can make a better rebuttal together.”
“I found out it’s already been taken care of,” Moffy says. “Ryke and Daisy covered it.”
“My parents?” I’m a little surprised they’d cover a whole yacht and not involve Aunt Lily and Uncle Lo, but Moffy nods.
Maybe they owed them or something.
Music grows louder, and Maximoff and I share a big grin. Every time a familiar Spanish song plays, we belt out the words together. From Héroes del Silencio to Enrique Iglesias, and the music pulls us towards the main deck under the sparkling lights. Right around the pool, we sing in Spanish with Ben and Winona, dancing together.
Banks and Akara are watching with the rest of SFO, and I bite my lip, remembering earlier tonight, before dessert, how they danced with me. Up against me. Front and back.
I watch Banks tip a water bottle to his lips. Like he needs to cool off from the memory too.
Akara whispers in Banks’ ear while his eyes are still on me, checking me out, and I love these fucking moments. Where we’re happy. Where their desire pools around me like water I’m sinking deep, deep into. Where we’ll eventually come together, and I’ll feel their utter fucking love in their hands and lips.
I could dance over to them, but I see Beckett alone.
Normally, we’re attached on trips, but we’ve barely hung out during this one. And he seems sad. So I let my boyfriends hang out with SFO, and I go to my friend.
I’m sweaty as I plop onto one of the white couches beside Beckett.
He smiles softly. “Thought you forgot about me.”
“Never,” I say seriously. “Impossible.”
His lips slowly fall, and he stares out at the deck. “Some people drift apart. Maybe that’s just life.” I see him watching Donnelly, who used to be his bodyguard and friend.
“I know things will change,” I say, coming to accept this fact, “but you still have me. I’m going to make a fucking effort to call you when you’re free, and I hope you’ll pick up—”
“I will,” Beckett interjects. “You know I will.”
We lean closer, as though to say, we’re here. We’re friends. And maybe our friendship isn’t exactly how it was when we were little, but we’re not little anymore.
“I thought about asking Akara if I could hire a bodyguard from his firm,” Beckett suddenly says.