No shit.
Her hairspray and heels alone could probably sink the Elation.
“Honey, consider your sister my sister. I’ll help her with whatever she needs.”
Trinity squeaked, doing a weird thing with her hands, waving them quickly, like she was trying to take off and fly with them.
“Aww. Thank you so much! You’re such a star!” She was about to leave my office when she stopped by the door, biting down on her lips. “Oh, I just wanted you to know I’m so happy you’re with Gabriella. I think you two are super good for each other.”
Alarm bells rang in my head.
Gabriella still hadn’t told her friends we were over? Not telling everyone was one thing. Not telling her bestie?
I was going to set the record straight and ensure everyone knew I was a free agent.
…but first, I was going to survive this punishment of a cruise.
We were running late.
Actually, running wouldn’t be the best way to describe it.
We were crawling late.
My fault, naturally.
Cruz and I hit the afternoon traffic to Port Wilmington. His Audi was moving at a snail’s pace, stuck among a hundred more cars.
He’d been admiringly polite and silent the entire drive out of Fairhope, but by the throbbing vein in his temple, which was an interesting shade of pomegranate, I was pretty sure he was about to punch my tit.
“Remind me again,” he drawled, choking his steering wheel to death. “What held you up in Jerry & Sons for forty-five minutes while I loitered around the parking lot like a B-grade drug dealer?”
I’d stayed late because my new trainee waitress, Trixie, a single mother of two’s douchebag husband walked out on her for a younger model only three weeks ago.
She was having a mental breakdown—not entirely surprising seeing as it was her second shift and she’d never worked in her life—and I had to take over until her tables had been served.
Of course, I wasn’t going to out her story or explain myself to this haughty prick.
I owed him nothing.
“Already told you.” I popped the passenger’s sun visor down, sliding the mirror open to line my Cupid’s bow again, a nice shade of rose. “I had to choose the best lipstick color to go with my outfit.”
“You’re wearing your waitress uniform.”
“Exactly. Did you know there are over a thousand shades of pink?”
“Did you know,” he retorted, “the Elation boards in fifteen minutes and we are going to miss the cruise?”
“Nonsense.” I waved a dismissive hand at him. The secret was in the faux confidence. “We’ll make it in time, and it’ll be wonderful.”
“Those things are mutually exclusive. If you’re there, it will not be wonderful.”
“Ouch,” I said, extra flatly, for emphasis that I couldn’t care less. “Can’t we all just get along?”
“The chances of us ever getting along flew out the window when you punched my throat six years ago.”
I could not believe his audacity at casually bringing that up.
“I was aiming for your face.”
“You’re as untalented as you are violent, Miss Turner.”
“Whatever happened to letting bygones be bygones?”
“Those don’t apply in our case. You would’ve kept beating me to death if we hadn’t had an audience.”
I smiled nostalgically. “To death? No. But I probably would’ve damaged the crown jewels.”
He ground his teeth together, scowling at the traffic jam through his wire-rimmed Aviator glasses. Vintage and likely expensive as heck. He looked like a war hero in a Tom Cruise movie. Which made me weak-kneed every time I stared at him directly. Maybe that’s why I liked irritating him—that clenched jaw, though!
I turned my face to my window and cranked up the radio. Fergie sang about her lovely lady lumps. I idly wondered if I should try my luck at writing lyrics. It couldn’t be that hard if this song made it to the radio.
I tried to cheer myself up by telling myself that this was Bear’s very first real vacation and he was stupid excited about it. Also, the ten-day cruise was going to give me some much-needed distance from Rob, who had been calling every day for the past couple weeks, but otherwise had been keeping a low profile in Fairhope. Once again, I was keeping his secret…sort of.
I still hadn’t broached the subject of his father with Bear, but was planning to do so this trip. Take him to one of the nice restaurants on the cruise ship and conduct a serious, grown-up conversation with him. The kind Dr. Phil would find inspiring.
Mr. Perfect’s voice sliced through Fergie’s singing. “Look, this cruise is supposed to help our families get to know each other better. I’m willing to let the throat-punching incident go if you play nice, too. What do you say?”
“Fine. Yes. I’ll give it a try. Can I call my son?”
Why I asked him for permission was beyond me.
I was a grown woman, on the verge of thirty, in fact. But I guess it was his car after all.
Also, Cruz always felt so much older than me, even though there were two years between us.
Also, maybe it would be nice to stop bickering for half a second.
“Go ahead, sweetheart.”
I was pretty sure the sweetheart part slipped accidentally, but it still made my thighs high-five each other and my clit wake up from its hibernation.
Real classy, Nessy. Wait till he enjoys an ice cream on the trip. Your vagina is probably going to detonate all over the open bar.
I FaceTimed Bear, who looked adorable in his neon-green framed shades and floppy hair. There was a lot of talking and laughing and microphone announcements in the background, so I gathered he was already on the ship.
“Hey there, Care Bear.” I grinned. “How’s my favorite boy?”
“Real good, Ma. You have to see this place. It’s crazy big. Like a city.”
“Well, honey, I’m on my way. Are Mamaw and Papaw with you?”
“Nope. Found a local gang heading toward the South China Sea. We’re going to become pirates. Do you think I’ll look good with an eye patch?”
The silent chuckle next to me, coming from Golden Boy, told me that this was supposed to be a joke. I frowned.
“Don’t laugh about such things with your mama, Care Bear.”
He winced. “Please don’t call me that publicly.”
“Don’t become a pirate, then.”
“Deal.”
My mother saw fit to grab Bear’s phone just then, smiling sunnily at me. By her pink cheeks and margarita the size of a bucket she was holding, I gathered she was lush.
I noticed she went uncharacteristically tame on the necklaces and bracelets, and my heart squeezed that she’d altered her style to fit into Catherine Costello’s neat universe.
“Nessy, honey?” She peered into the phone, as elderly people often did, as though to ensure I wasn’t physically trapped inside the small device. “What’s taking y’all so long? Wyatt and your sister are already here. The Costellos, too.”
“I got held up at work.” I winced.
Mom gave me a look of despair. “Please be here on time, Nessy. You cannot begin to imagine how much it means to your sister.”