Thud thud thud(but softly because I didn’t want to attract any attention).
I lied to Captain Bailey. I had no idea if Rachel Auntie and Joseph Uncle were going to make up any time soon. I had no idea how long I was going to be stuck in the bowels of the ship with a half-bunned, half-dimpled ninja chef. Worse, I was estranged from my future husband-to-be, my plans of midnight trysts in the hallway (for which I’d spent hours picking out the perfect sexy-but-oh-so-effortless pajamas) put indefinitely on hold.
But that’s the way it is with star-crossed lovers. No love story worth its weight in sea salt is ever easy, right?
Right. I straightened and stared at my reflection in the utility mirror. It was lit from above, casting deep shadows. The hollows under my eyes made me look more like something out of a horror story than a romance. The important thing to remember was that the stage was finally set for the most important journey of my life: to seduce the one man Dolly couldn’t stop me from being with, the one man she’d have no choice but to accept.
I stepped out of my dirty clothes and got in the shower. I had to tuck in my elbows to fit, but nothing could dampen my resolve. I grinned as I lathered my hair.
It’s show time, Moti.
Imade my way to the salon—freshly showered and un-zombified.
“There you are,” Hannah said. “Captain Bailey told me you’re bunking in the crew quarters with us. Find everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you.” I appreciated her hushed tones even though none of the Papadakis clan was around. “Are we leaving? I heard the engines come on.”
“Yes. The last of your wedding party arrived a little while ago. You’ll be dining al fresco tonight. One level up. I’ve set up some appetizers and drinks if you want to grab a spot and watch the sun set before dinner.”
“That would be great. Thanks, Hannah.” I made my way up and spotted Thomas’s parents on the U-shaped seating area. It had been three months since we’d met, so I figured a re-introduction was necessary.
“Hello, I’m Moti.”
“Yes, Isabelle’s cousin, right?” Thomas’s mother held out her hand. “Kassia. And you remember my husband, George.”
Principal Papadakis was one of the few men who could carry off a Tom Selleck mustache. He gave me a nod and indicated a spot for me to sit.
“So Moti, what do you do?”
So Fatty, what do you do?
“I work for Isabelle’s father. I’m a chartered accountant.”
“Ah, not everyone can be a lawyer or doctor or politician. It’s not your qualifications that matter. It’s how much money you make.”
I decided not to be offended. Isabelle mentioned how rattled she’d been the first time she’d met her in-laws. I laughed, but Mama and Papa Papadakis continued to stare at me.
They really expect me to share how much money I make.
Papa Papadakis leaned closer. “Tell me. Why does your family have these names? Isabelle, Rachel, Joseph, Dolly. Only you have a different name. Moti. You’re all Indian. Why don’t the others have Indian names?”
A stretch of silence followed, during which I mentally retreated to the bowels of the ship, assumed the fetal position, and rocked back and forth while chanting,Please, make it go away.
“We’re Catholic, so we have Christian names.” I fidgeted with the row of bracelets I was wearing. “I was named by a Hindu lady who—”
“George, you’re making her uncomfortable.” Kassia held out a platter of appetizers for me. “I hope you don’t mind all the questions, dear. We’re just curious people. Strong opinions, no filters, but the best of intentions.”
Papa Papadakis lit a cigarette and took a long, slow inhale, disappointed at having his line of interrogation cut off. The smoke swirled around him—thick and gray like his mustache. Mama Papadakis’ expression tightened when his phone went off.
“Sorry, darling. I have to take this.” He offered her a reconciliatory kiss on the cheek, but she waved him off.
I popped one of the colorful appetizers into my mouth and sat back. The sun turned everything golden—the roofs of small houses, the foamy crests of waves crashing along the coastline, the underbellies of sea gulls soaring above. It was all picture-perfect, but something else competed for my attention: the flavors bursting in my mouth. I picked up the card on the platter and read:Roasted Balsamic Cranberries on Brie Crostini.
Technically, just fruit and cheese on bread. But I’d been off bread the last few months, maybe that’s why it tasted so good.
I closed my eyes and popped another morsel into my mouth. “Mmm.”
“You sound positively orgasmic.”
