Rock the Boat (18 page)

“Why don’t you come find out? There’s room for one more. Or you can always watch.”

“You’ll hate yourself for saying that once you sober up.”

“Not if I don’t remember.”

“I’ll remind you just to see the look on your face.” I lean closer to her ear, whispering so nobody else can hear me, “I don’t blame you for wanting to fuck me, Gina.”

“You’re the biggest jackass I know, Easton Beck.” She pushes me away, swatting at my chest, but so far away from making contact, she bounces off the wall next to her. As hard as she tries to move forward to get to me, it’s like her body is pulling her backward. I reach out for her before she goes down, picking her up and cradling her in my arms.

“I’m just messing with you, calm down.”

One elevator ride later, she’s so calm, she’s almost asleep in my arms. When I get to our rooms, I kick Dom’s door with the toe of my boot. He opens it, his eyes scanning Gina with concern. “Fuck, baby. What’d you do?”

“Whiskey,” she mumbles when she hears his voice, reaching out for him even though she was so pissed at him an hour ago she could barely breathe.

Dom looks at me, blaming me for her condition without even saying a word. “She did it all on her own, man. Stole the bottle right out of my hands.”

“Thanks for bringing her back in one piece,” he says with a defeated expression, taking her out of my arms and into his. As soon as she realizes Dom has her, her eyes open. “I loved you, asshole.”

“You still love me?”

“I fucking do. And that makes me mad enough to punch you in the junk. Maybe if it hurts enough you’ll stop putting it where it doesn’t belong.”

“Good luck,” I tell him with a smile on my face. As drunk as she is, they’ll go back to the way things were as soon as they’re alone. They have something special, and strangely enough, it makes me think about Lark and all the things Gina said about us.

I may be in no condition to have an actual conversation, but I need to find Lark.

I’ve been wandering around the ship for the last hour trying to figure out why Easton turned out to be exactly like Grant. Maybe, just this once, I was hoping I was enough. That when I woke up in the morning, I could look into the eyes of a man who wasn’t completely full of shit.

I may have fought coming on this cruise, but once I got here, I wanted it as bad as Noelle. Each night I laid my head on my pillow, whether I was beside Easton or not, I prayed for a sign that I was exactly where I belonged. I prayed Easton was capable of restoring my faith in men, and that he would never stop making me feel as alive as he does when I’m with him.

But seeing Easton with another girl in his arms makes him both a liar and a fake. I believed him when he told me he’d never cheated. The way he looked in my eyes when he swore to me he never has and never would cheat, it hit me so hard I believed him—I felt the truth in his words.

Now that I know it was all lies, all I want to do is get in my bed and stay there until Saturday morning when I can go back to living on my own—without false promises and cheaters.

As I’m digging around in my bag for my key card, I don’t notice the room service tray on the floor next to the door until I’ve already tripped over it. I land hard on my hands and knees, the tongs of a fork poking into my leg. The half eaten cake sitting in the middle of the tray is Noelle’s weakness when she’s stressed. Stressed or not, she can’t possibly be having as shitty of a day as I am.

“Are you okay?”

I know it’s him before I even raise my head. Standing in front of me wearing his signature boots and ripped jeans, Easton holds out his hand to help me off the floor.

I push his hand away, using the wall as support instead. Once I’m on my feet again, I open my purse and continue looking for my key—ignoring him because it hurts too much to even see his face.

He’s persistent, moving closer until his hand is on my waist. “What’s wrong, Lark?”

“I can’t find my key!”

“Calm down, we can get a new one at the desk. I’ll go with you.”

“No,
we
aren’t doing anything.”

I try my best to keep it together, but my lip trembles so hard, I bite it to keep it still. I try to hide behind my hair so he won’t see my tears start to fall, but he doesn’t let me hide. He tucks it behind my ear, holding my face in his palms the way he does when I feel so cherished.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Lark, seriously. What’s going on?”

“Don’t play dumb, Easton. Just don’t. You knew what this would do me, but you did it anyway.”

He moves closer, reaching for my waist when I turn my back on him. The second I feel his hands on me again, I want to turn around and scream at him, to beg him to leave me alone before things go any farther. But the words won’t come.

I jostle my bag around one more time, pulling the towel from the spa out. My key falls to the floor, and Easton and I bend to pick it up at the same time. Our hands touch, mine trembling from the emotion I’m trying so hard to keep inside me. Easton steadies it with his hand, running his thumb back and forth over the top.

Before I can get lost in him again, I stand up, sliding my key into the slot with such force I’m surprised it doesn’t snap in half. I’m almost inside when he pulls on my arm, stopping me from escaping. He’s smart enough to know he’s not invited inside. “Lark, wait.”

I can’t even turn my head to look at him. “Was this all a game to you? Do you do this each time new passengers get on the ship? Fuck around with them, feed them a bunch of lies, and then move onto the next victim.”

“You’re the first passenger I’ve spent time with, Lark. I don’t date. I told you that.”

“Just answer the question, Easton. Am I just someone to pass the time with—someone you want to fuck because you have nothing better to do with your spare time?”

When I don’t get an answer, I decide I’m done. I remove his hand from my arm and walk inside my room. He shoves his boot in the door, keeping it from closing. “Lark, wait. Gina may have signed me up without my knowledge, but I care about you. It’s not easy for me to admit, but we have something. I think we’ve proven that.”

“We
had
something,” I stress. “Before you messed it up.”

“Look at me, Lark. I can’t make it better if you don’t tell me what needs fixing.”

Against my better judgement, I turn my head to look at him. I’m not sure what I expected to see—guilt maybe. But the way he’s looking at me right now, it’s nothing but confusion. It’s not the same expression I saw when I caught Grant. His chest isn’t heaving, he’s not begging me to forgive him, and he’s not confessing his sins. He’s simply looking to me for answers like this is somehow all a figment of my imagination.

“I saw you, Easton. I saw you.”

“What?”

“You’re really going to stand there and play dumb? After everything I told you I’ve been through?”

“Can we go inside and talk about this?”

“The proof doesn’t lie. There’s nothing to discuss.” Before he can argue, I close the door completely, wishing I could forget Easton ever existed.

If I can’t do it on my own, there’s always tequila. I laughed at Noelle when she stashed two bottles in her luggage, swearing it was for emergencies. Right about now, it’s not so funny. It’s pretty perfect.

Once I open it up, I take the entire bottle to the bed, holding it like a child would clutch a teddy bear for comfort. I may be a twenty-seven year old woman, but I’d do anything to be a little girl again—when my biggest worry was coordinating Barbie’s shoes with her outfit. Or making sure the Corvette had enough imaginary gas to make it to the Dream House.

With my back against the headboard, I alternate sips of tequila with swigs of soda as I watch the same boring weather forecast over and over again. It’s so quiet in the room without Noelle’s constant chatter, I can hardly stand it.

It’s only when my ass starts to fall asleep and the urge to pee so strong that I contemplate getting out of bed. That is until my eyelids become too heavy to hold open without toothpicks. I give in just as the phone rings. It takes every ounce of energy I can find to crawl over to the table.

By the time I get to the phone, I have to use the desk chair to hold myself up. My legs are like jelly but the rest is too numb to care. Lazily, I bring the receiver to my ear—upside down the first time. “What up?”

“Lark?”

“Yeah.”

“You sound cheerful. Are you okay?”

“Dyn-o-mite. What’s up?”

“Good, I was hoping I’d find you in a good mood. I wanted to bring Lincoln back to the room. Do you have plans with Easton?”

I don’t know why I do it, but I lie. It’s not her fault I can’t keep a man for more than five minutes. “Give me time to change and it’s all yours.”

“You’re the best. I really think we’re making progress,” she says before whispering, “I think we might
do it
tonight.”

“So, now would be a good time to clean the dirty laundry off the couch, right?”

“Ohmigod, please. I’d be so embarrassed if he saw my underwear.”

“Isn’t that the point of bringing him back to the room?”

“Yes, but I want him to undress me to see them. Why are we even having this conversation?” She’s laughing on the other end of the line before there’s muffled whispers and some sort of a struggle. Finally, she breaks out into a fit of hysterics. “I have to go,” she giggles before the line goes completely dead.

“Okay, then,” I mumble to myself, as I hang up. I’m glad she’s having a good time. She’s been different since meeting Lincoln, but maybe that’s what happens when you meet
the one
. Maybe you become a different version of yourself. One you hardly recognize because you need your other half to make you whole. Or maybe I’ve had too much to drink. Or maybe not enough considering I can still remember the smell of Easton’s cologne when he stood so close to me that I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and pretend for a little while longer.

But I’ve been pretending for the last two months—two months of convincing my best friend and my co-workers that I’m fine. That going on without my other half was as easy as being with him. Because that’s what I do. When something doesn’t work out, I act like it never happened. Even if my heart is shattered into a million pieces, each one stabbing me from the inside out.

The same pain might be eating away at me again, but I slide into an empty chaise next to the water, pretending my world is perfect. That there’s no place I’d rather be than sitting poolside with the scorching, afternoon sun beating down on me from above.

“What can I get you, beautiful?” the bartender with a familiar face asks.

I squint my eyes, trying my best to read the label on his name tag. “Aki, is it?”

“You got it. You’re Easton’s girl, right?”

“Not exactly, but I’m sure you already know his juicy secrets.”

He clutches his tray in his hand as he shakes his head in disagreement. “He’s a pretty private guy.”

He’s so private he can juggle two women at the same time. Of course I don’t say that, but I definitely think it. It’s not the waiter’s fault he’s friends with a douchebag. “What’s your specialty?”

He hands me a laminated menu showcasing about ten different tropical drinks. Some are frozen, some on ice. “Pick your poison.”