Of course they want me to sail.
The last time I'd been at the helm of a racing yacht, Daniel had been crew.Laughing, fearless Daniel who lived for the adrenaline rush of wind and speed and the thin line between control and chaos.
The same Daniel who died six weeks later when a freak squall caught his boat in the Mediterranean.
"Mr.West?"Claire appears in my doorway, tablet in hand."I heard something crash.Are you—" She stops, taking in the coffee disaster."Everything alright?"
"When exactly did we discuss the sailing race component of the PR strategy?"
Her eyebrows raise slightly."It was in Tuesday's briefing.Item seven under 'Promotional Activities.'I also mentioned it yesterday during the?—"
"Tuesday."I run a hand through my hair."Right.Tuesday."
Tuesday, when I'd spent the entire briefing thinking about the way Mia had looked at me over dinner.Wednesday, when I'd nodded along to Claire's updates while mentally replaying every sound she'd made on that terrace.
"You did seem...distracted during the briefings," Claire hedges."Is there something else going on?"
Yes.Your temporary nanny has completely scrambled my brain and I can't go five minutes without remembering how she felt under my hands.
"No," I lie."Just focused on the big picture."
"Mm-hmm."Claire's expression suggests she's not buying it."And this sudden aversion to sailing?Because last I checked, you were practically born on a boat."
"Things change."
"Daniel's accident was—“ She exhales.“You can't avoid the water forever."
"I'm not avoiding anything.I'm prioritizing safety and?—"
A loud crash from the deck above cuts me off, followed by Isla's delighted shriek and Captain Feathers' triumphant squawk.
"CAPTAIN FEATHERS WINS!CAPTAIN FEATHERS CHAMPION!"
Claire and I look at each other.
"Should I ask?"she says.
"Probably not."I stand, stepping carefully around the coffee puddle."But I should probably check that my niece hasn't turned my yacht into a maritime obstacle course."
I find them on the sun deck—Mia, Isla, and the bird—in the middle of what appears to be a feather-based dance competition.Mia's hair is coming loose from its ponytail, there are small feathers stuck to her sundress, and she's laughing so hard she can barely stand upright.
"Uncle Roarke!"Isla spots me immediately."Look!Captain Feathers taught Mia how to tango!"
"TANGO!TANGO!PASSION!"the bird squawks, executing what might generously be called a pirouette.
Mia turns to me, cheeks flushed with laughter, and something in my chest does that dangerous fluttering thing again.
"I should probably explain," she says, gesturing at the feathers scattered across the deck."We were practicing dance moves for the talent show Isla wants to organize, and Captain Feathers got very...invested."
"The talent show that's happening when, exactly?"
"Tonight!"Isla bounces."After dinner!You have to participate, Uncle Roarke.Mia says you probably have hidden talents."
I look at Mia, who's trying very hard not to meet my eyes."Does she now?"
"Everyone has hidden talents," Mia says innocently."Some people just hide them better than others."
The double meaning isn't lost on me, and based on the slight flush creeping up her neck, it isn't lost on her either.
