With Every Breath (Sea Swept #2) (20 page)

The ship’s engine, thrumming through the walls, is my only answer.

~ ~ ~

“So who’s being let go?” Randall asks as we sit down in his office. He says it almost cheerfully, settling into his leather chair. I’m on the other side of his big carved wooden desk. The walls boast framed pictures of important people Randall’s met: the cruise company’s owner, a senator, a couple of famous actors. I guess even celebrities go on cruises.

If I play my cards right, someday I could have an office like this, a position like Randall’s. Though hopefully a land-based position, because at some point I’d prefer not to have to live with a seasickness patch on my arm.

I return my focus to Randall, who leans back in his chair.

“Yasmin Alejo,” I say evenly.

“Really? Isn’t she your girlfriend?” Randall chuckles at my surprised expression. “I hear things. Don’t worry, we all wind up with on-board girlfriends. Even those of us with wives!” He laughs, though it’s not really a joke. His girlfriend is a purser, one of Letta’s friends, and is always on his arm in the evenings … unless Randall’s wife is visiting. It’s ship culture, one of the seedier aspects.

“Yasmin and I are together, yes. But I haven’t let it affect my responsibility to the ship, to the other photographers, or to Star Heart Cruises.” I practiced this speech in front of my tiny cabin mirror too.

“That reflects well on you,” Randall says approvingly. “Alright. I’ll get the paperwork started.” He raises a brow. “You haven’t mentioned it to her, have you? Company policy forbids advance notice, and they take that quite seriously, as it could affect the mental health of the soon-to-be-terminated employee.”

Meaning they didn’t want to get sued if someone jumped off the ship in response to getting fired. Yasmin wouldn’t do that, but I shake my head. If I want this promotion, I need to follow the rules.

“No, sir, I haven’t told her. But I’d like to be the one to do so, to explain. And it makes sense to do this when we return to Miami.” Company policy is to fire employees at the next port stop, but since Yasmin’s American, I figure they’ll wait until we’re back at our home port. That’s why I waited until the current cruise started to talk to Randall: this way, I’ll have one more cruise cycle with her before she leaves. Another few days to make her realize she’ll miss me, that she needs me. That we can do long-distance after all.

Randall’s eyes narrow. I’m not fooling him; he wanted the name of the fired employee two days ago. His smile turns ironic, and I can tell he knows exactly why I’ve timed it this way.

I think he’ll reprimand me for it, but instead he shrugs.

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

We chat a little more about my latest sales figures, which are thankfully above average, and as I leave Randall’s office I’m feeling pretty good.
 

At the photo shop that afternoon, Elise comes in to tell me that I’m needed to photograph a wedding on the ship tomorrow. “Not one I’m coordinating, thank goodness,” she says. “Sorry for the late notice. Can you fit them in? They want you specifically. Apparently they took a cruise last year and got a studio photo shoot with you, and liked the pictures.”

“Sure,” I say, though I’d rather not. If I only have this last cruise with Yasmin, I want to spend it by her side. I swallow my disappointment. At least weddings pay well.

That evening, Yasmin and I set up our Formal Night backgrounds and lights near the dining room.
 

“I’ve got to shoot a wedding tomorrow,” I tell her.
 

Yasmin frowns. “What time? Will we still have a chance for our photo hike? I was thinking we could try to sneak up to the bell tower again.” She throws me a wicked smile, and now I’m really cursing the bride and groom.

“Unfortunately, they’ve requested I be there all day. Pre-wedding hair and make-up, then the ceremony, then all the way through the reception. I’ll be lucky to get out before midnight.” I pause as an elegantly-dressed middle-aged couple arrives. After I’ve cajoled them into posing for us and they’ve left, I add, “I’d assign someone else, but they requested me specifically.”

“Well, I can’t blame them. You take gorgeous photos.” Yasmin gives me a look that’s half-sexy, half-pouty. “But what am I going to do with myself all afternoon?”

I really wish I didn’t have to do the wedding. I want to be with Yasmin every second we have left. I want to apologize, explain about having to fire her, but I can’t. Randall would be furious.

But it still doesn’t sit right. If it were me getting fired, I’d want to be told in advance, and I’d be pissed if Yasmin kept something like that from me. I understand company policy, but …
 

You know what? Rules be damned. I have to tell her. I can explain, and hopefully she’ll understand. I know her well enough to trust that she wouldn’t endanger my promotion, no matter how mad she is.

Then my stomach turns. What if she breaks up with me over it?

I still have to tell her.
 

Yasmin’s photographing a laughing trio of teenagers in ball gowns, probably their prom dresses recycled, and I watch her charm them. Her photo technique has improved, but it’s her smile, her spark that people respond to.
 

I’ll tell her tonight, I decide. It’s going to suck having her angry with me, but I know I can make her understand.

I hope so, anyway.

Chapter 20

Yasmin

I wake up at 5am. West is asleep beside me, the glow of his alarm clock casting a faint blue light over his features. The engines have just shut off, so we’re docked in Portales. I listen to the quiet and try to go back to sleep, but finally slip out of bed.
 

I don’t have to be at work until 8am for debarkation—it’s another morning of the Star Heart Señorita costume for me, unless I can get Camelia to wear it instead. We’re working together today. Since West is shooting that wedding all day, I probably won’t see him until nearly midnight.

I debate about whether to wake West—he’d wanted to talk about something last night, but I’d been impatient to get him naked, so we’d never gotten around to it. But he looks too peaceful now, and he’s going to have an exhausting day, so instead I scribble a quick note, leave it on his desk, and head back to my room.

Camelia and her boyfriend are snuggled in her bed, so I’m quiet as I dress in workout clothes. When I get back, sweaty and pumped for the day, I grab a shower and throw on my company polo and shorts. Just as I finish brushing my hair by the light of the bathroom, Camelia’s alarm clock goes off. She and her boyfriend groan, but after ten seconds haven’t moved, so I turn the alarm off for them.

“Time to get up,” I say, flick the light switch for the main room. Camelia groans again, throwing up an arm to cover her eyes. Her shoulders are bare, and I frown at her. “You’d better not be naked under there.”

Camelia giggles behind her arm. “Avert your eyes,” she warns, and I turn away as she throws off the covers. After she bounds to the bathroom and the door closes, I dare to turn and grab my camera from my bunk bed. Noel smiles sheepishly at me, thankfully staying covered.

“I’ll meet you guys at breakfast,” I say. Scooping up my room key, I head out the door.

Over bagels, I make plans with Elise to grab drinks and sunshine at a beachside bar after Camelia and I are done with our shift. West appears briefly to grab a muffin and coffee, but can’t stay; the bridezilla is apparently kicking off her wedding prep at 8am. I walk him out of the crew mess and into the hallway so we have some privacy.

“I never got a chance to talk to you last night,” West says. “I meant to, but …”

I smile. “No, we didn’t talk much.” West looks serious, so I cock my head. “Was there something in particular?”

A group of cruise ship crew comes through the hallway towards the mess, and we have to squeeze against the wall to let them pass.

“Don’t worry about it,” West says. He glances at his watch. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” He drops a distracted kiss on my lips, then heads off. I stare after him for a moment, wondering what he’d wanted to talk about, then shrug and head back into the mess to finish breakfast.

Craning my head to catch a last glimpse of West, I wind up running into someone.

“Oh sorry!” I say, then see who I’ve nearly knocked over and inwardly groan. “Hi, Letta.”

“Clumsy idiot,” she mutters in her crisp accent.
 

“Didn’t you just leave?” the girl next to her asks me. Her expression is not friendly as she eyes my form. “Why are you back? It’s not like you need more food.”

Wow, am I back in high school? And how creepy are they for keeping track of when I come and go? I nearly snap something rude, then catch myself.

“I was saying bye to West.” See? I can take the high road. But then I realize I shouldn’t have mentioned West, because Letta’s expression sharpens.

“Goodbye?” she asks, one thin brow rising.

“For now,” I clarify. “Not for ever.”

Disappointment flattens her lips, but then she tosses her hair and smirks.

“Don’t worry. He will be done with you soon.”

I roll my eyes and try to move past her. “I doubt that.”
 

Letta blocks my path.

“Perhaps sooner than you think,” she says, and suddenly I’m done taking her crap.

“Back off, Letta. It’s not my fault he broke up with you. Move on.”

“You suppose you are special to him?” she scoffs. “Please. Once you are gone, he will forget you like
that
.” She snaps her fingers.

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere,” I shoot back.

Letta’s eyes blaze, but as she opens her mouth her friend grabs her arm and gives her a warning look. Letta hesitates, then smiles at me. “Good thing,” she murmurs, and steps aside to let me pass.

I stride by them and sit down next to Camelia.

“Ugh,” I say.
 

“What is wrong?” she asks, brow furrowing.

“Letta,” I answer. Her last smile left me unsettled.
 

Camelia makes a face.

“Forget her. You know she is only jealous.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, and try to ignore Letta’s glares, which I can feel all the way across the crew mess.
 

After breakfast Camelia lets me talk her into wearing the sexy Señorita costume, and we have fun coaxing the passengers into posing with the ship in the background. At noon we wrap things up, change, and head to the beach bar.

Elise is already stretched out on a lounge chair with a mai tai in her hand. She’s chatting with Owen, who as we reach them is casually offering to rub more sunscreen onto Elise’s back. She laughs.

“I think I’m covered for now.”

“Well, you let me know. My hands are always available to you.” Owen notices me and Camelia, and grins. “Ladies! Took you long enough. Where have you been?”

“Some of us have to work,” Camelia says. She mock-pouts. “I thought there would be drinks waiting for us.”

Owen laughs and takes the hint. “I’ll be right back. Mai tais for everyone!”

“What a gentleman,” I say, grinning, and sit down on a lounger. Owen heads off, and I raise a brow at Elise.

“So what’s going on with you two?” I ask, nodding to Owen at the bar. Elise shrugs one lightly-tanned shoulder.

“Same as usual. He hits on me, I turn him down. It’s a thing we do.”

“You don’t want to take him up on it?” Owen’s pretty hot. West is hotter, of course, to my eyes at least, but Owen, with his lean surfer looks, likely doesn’t get turned down too often.

“You probably haven’t noticed since you’re blinded with love,” Elise teases, “but Owen sleeps with a different girl every week. I think he’s gone through ninety percent of the production dancers.”

“Ew,” I say, wrinkling my nose.

“He’s a good guy,” Elise says. “Just maybe not a good boyfriend.” She studies Owen, who has taken his shirt off and is wiping his face with it. He’s got a gorgeous body, I’ll give him that.

“A fling, but not forever?” I say.

“Nothing’s forever,” Elise says, making a face. “And I hate flings.”

“They’re not as good as the real thing, that’s for sure.” I’ve hooked up with enough guys I don’t care about to know the difference. What I have with West is real.
 

Owen returns with our drinks, and we spend the afternoon hanging out in Portales. Sun, sand, and good friends. If West had been able to join us, it’d be a perfect day. But it is pretty close. I take a couple photographs of us goofing around—they’re not at all artistic, just snapshots, but they make me smile.

As late afternoon rolls in, so does a bank of clouds. The wind starts to pick up, and as the sea turns choppy we head back to the ship. Hopefully we’ll be out of the area before the storm breaks. Thinking of West and how seasick he gets, I hope the captain can route us around the worst of it.

“Look at your nose,” Camelia says to Owen as we traipse through the big I-95 hallway. “With all your offers of sunscreen, you should have put some on your face.”

“I only look better with a sunburn,” Owen says, making us laugh. “Should we continue this party at the crew bar?” he adds.

“Not me,” Camelia says. “Noel and I are having a romantic dinner tonight. It’s our one-month anniversary!” She checks her watch, then heads off to meet him at his cabin.

“I promised I’d help wrangle the wedding reception this evening, so I’m out,” Elise says.

“Ooh, can you sneak me into the reception to say hi to West?” I ask her. She grins.

“Sure. Just let me shower and change. Meet me at my cabin?”

“If Yasmin gets to crash the wedding, I’m crashing it too,” Owen declares. Elise eyes him.

“You’d better have something better to wear than ripped shorts,” she says.

“Come on, Yas, let’s grab our fancy-schmancy clothes.” Owen holds an elbow out to me gallantly, and I laugh and take his arm. His cabin is near mine, and as we head down our hallway Owen tries to convince me to show up at the wedding reception in my bikini.

“I think the bride might kill me,” I say.

“Yeah, but it’d be worth it … Uh oh. Isn’t that your cabin?” Owen says.