“Hey.” I lean into her, speaking softly. “What’s wrong?”
She shoots me a self-conscious glance. “Sorry. Nothing.”
“Em.”
“I’m leaving Cat.” She swipes her fingertips under one eye. “I worry about her. And I’ll miss her.”
Of course she will.
And just like that, my own stress dissolves and I’m filled with concern for Emerie. I want her to have a good time on this trip. I don’t want her to spend it worrying about what’s at home. So I need to do better.
“Hey. I get it.” I squeeze her arm. “She’ll be fine, though. You said she didn’t seem upset about it at all.”
“She wasn’t.” She nods and takes a deep breath. “She seemed excited for me.”
“And you totally deserve some fun.”
She squeezes out a smile. “Right.”
“We need champagne.” It’s part of the package, and when we have glasses of bubbly, I toast her with my glass. “To relaxing. Having fun. No worries. Both of us.”
“Yes.”
“Soon we’ll be on the beach.”
She smiles. “I can’t wait.”
“Did you bring a bikini?”
Oh hell. I said that out loud.
She leans closer, as if imparting highly confidential intel. “I brought three.”
Heat pulses between us.
Goddamn. I am so fucked.
I didn’t in a million years think she would actually come on this trip.
But she is.
And we’re sharing a room.
Real talk: I’ve thought about sleeping with her. Okay, not really sleeping. I’ve thought about fucking her. Pretty much every day since I met her, but now I know we’re sharing a room and a bed—yes there’s only one bed—I can’t think of anything else.
I have no idea if she feels the same. Which could make this extremely awkward instead of shagadelic.
Now I just have to make it through this trip without embarrassing myself by accidentally jumping her.
We pass part of the four-and-a-half-hour flight watching Being John Malkovich, which neither of us has seen. Probably should have chosen something a little lighter for the start of a vacation, but whatever, we get into it.
“This movie is weird,” Emerie comments part way through.
“Did you ever study Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs?”
“Not really.”
“I took a few university courses when I was playing in Kitchener, and after I got drafted and was playing in the AHL I took a couple more. We learned about the hierarchy. Basically, it’s a theory about what motivates people. People have to have their basic needs met—food, clothing, shelter—before they can be motivated to work toward things like self-actualization. Being the best they can be.”
“Okay.” She nods.
“Everyone in this movie is working their way through the hierarchy. They’re all on a search for self-actualization. Reaching their full potential.”
She gives me a weird look, but we continue watching.
At the end of the move, she turns to me, a small pucker between her eyebrows. “That’s the end? He’s stuck there forever?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I pause. “I have questions.”
“Me too.”
“Okay, if you think about the self-actualization thing…and that’s what they all were seeking…they all had different ways of getting there. And in the end…he didn’t.”
“Right.”
“He thinks the only reason he’s not successful is because people don’t understand his work.” I peer at her. “You’re an artist. What do you think of that?”
“I’m not an artist.”
“A musician.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not really a musician.”
“Yes, you are.” I frown.
She waves a hand dismissively and it bugs me. “Being a successful artist means reaching people with your art. Maybe…” She hesitates. “Maybe changing the world with your art.”
I nod slowly.
“But that’s not what Craig wanted,” she continues, her brow furrowed as she thinks it through. “He’s too narcissistic. He doesn’t want to change the world with his art. He just wants praise and recognition. That’s what he thinks success is.”
I nod, examining that. Damn. “I think you’re right.”
“This was pretty heavy for a vacation.”
I smile. “Yeah. We need more champagne.”
“You wild man, you!”
A face appears over the seat back in front of us as Nadia goes onto her knees and peers over. “You have finished your movie?”
“Yep.”
“Good. We need you to vote on an important topic.”
I grin. “What’s that?”
“Would you have surgery to get bigger balls?”
My mouth drops open. Emerie makes a choking noise beside me.
“I don’t need bigger balls,” I finally reply.
“That is not the question. Would you do it if you wanted bigger balls?”
Barbie also turns around. “The vote is tied right now.”
“Who says they would do that?” I demand.
“Brando. And me.”
I shake my head. “What is happening?”
“I’d do it so my balls would match the size of my dick,” Brando says from behind us.
Emerie collapses into giggles.
“Because my dick is huge,” he adds, grinning.
“Jesus. What is wrong with you people?”
“Yes or no?” Nadia prods.
“What’s involved with the surgery?” I ask. “I can’t say yes or no unless I know the risks.”
She sighs. “I give up.”
Emerie is still shaking with laughter, her face pressed against my upper arm.
“Nobody is getting near my junk with a scalpel,” Morrie says.
“Me either,” Russ adds.
Everyone’s now crowded in the aisle around us.
Russ’s girlfriend Hannah elbows him in the ribs. “Someone already did, honey,” she reminds him gently.
Everyone laughs.
“I was a baby! That’s different.”
“Now we’ve gone from testicular implants to circumcision,” I note. “I did not expect this conversation on my vacation.”
The seatbelt sign comes on, and the chime bing-bongs.
“Sit down, you goofs,” I tell everyone. As they move back to their seats, I meet Emerie’s dancing eyes. “You’ll get used to their bullshit.”
She grins. “I like it.”
We get checked in at the resort, which is fucking phenomenal, from the expansive marble-floored lobby to the restaurants, bar, and casino, to our room with more marble floors, a big ceiling fan with palm-shaped blades, dark wood furniture, and one king-size bed.
Emerie goes straight to the balcony, plants her hands on the railing, and tips her face up to the sun. “Oh my God, this is gorgeous!”
“It really is.” I leave our suitcases and follow her out there, absorbing the view of clear turquoise waters, white sand, and palm trees. The soft, warm breeze ruffles her hair and I smile at the blissful expression on her face. “Hard to imagine it was snowing in New York when we left.”