A supercilious grin draws on his face. ‘Working hard has a few perks.’
‘Ho-ly shit!’ Amanda eventually says, each syllable laboured.
Williams wraps his arm around her ribs, pulling her tenderly onto his lap. ‘Our baby is going to come out preceding everything with “holy”.’ He kisses her temple and I want to coo. He’s definitely the Bingley to Gregory’s Darcy. Light to dark. Easy to intentionally difficult.
‘I have a surprise for you,’ my dark and difficult man says.
Bryony slows the boat to a stop, still twenty metres or so from the yacht. Carl speaks to someone through a radio. Then a man appears on the deck of the yacht, near the bow. A blue banner hangs over the brim of the yacht. Gregory takes my hand in his, then nods to Carl, who gives the okay to whoever is on the other end of the radio.
The banner is rolled up slowly and for the second time, my jaw hangs loose as I read the name of the yacht.
S. R. Aurora
My eyes glaze but I still manage to tell him, ‘Presumptuous, wouldn’t you say?’
He liquefies me with his stunning half-smile and I throw my arms around his neck. ‘Thank you. It’s incredible.’
Scarlett Ryans, Aurora.
‘Oh, for God’s sake. I really want to hate you,’ Amanda says, swiping away a tear.
I feel Gregory’s chest move as he chuckles in my hold.
Bryony and Carl expertly position us adjacent to eight white steps. At the top, another six crew members wait to greet us, all dressed in the same uniform. Bryony asks if Amanda and I would like to be shown around the ship, which of course we do, and I realise as she talks excitedly in her Bajan accent about the three-hundred-foot yacht and all its features, I really quite like her.
She walks us around the bottom deck where there’s an eight-seater dining table, two rattan sofas, two matching rattan chairs and four matching sun loungers. The main salon has a fully stocked bar and multiple television screens. There’s another dining table and more seating.
The hot afternoon sun beats on my face as I tilt my head and tie my hair back into a ponytail. I open my eyes to a speedboat flying across the sea, two bikini-clad girls waving vigorously in the back as water crashes over the front of the boat. Amanda lifts on to her toes in her gladiator sandals and waves back.
‘Miss Heath, Miss Darling, my name is Bertie and I handle all the food and beverages on the yacht.’
The chef meets us out on deck – also dressed all in black, albeit in kitchen attire. He’s a tall, red-haired man with pale, freckled skin and, unsurprisingly, the kind of green eyes a woman could dive right into. ‘Can I interest you in a fruit punch?’
‘Is it virgin?’ Amanda asks.
‘Absolutely.’
A glowing smile pulls on her lips as she takes the pink-orange juice from Bertie’s tray.
‘It’s delicious, Bertie,’ I say. ‘Is it your recipe?’
‘Sure is. Wait ’til you see what I can do with a bottle of Disaronno and Tequilla Blanco.’
‘I’m looking forward to it already.’
Amanda sighs and drains her virgin drink, depositing the empty glass back on Bertie’s tray.
‘Another?’ he asks.
She shakes her head, clearly sulking.
‘D’you guys want to continue the tour?’ Bryony asks, gesturing to the stairs, one set going down, the other leading up to the top deck.
‘Please.’
‘Let’s go up first.’
We meet the captain, who shows us a heap of gadgets and levers around the steering wheel and the view from the top deck is amazing. Endless, sparkling sea merging into clear, blue sky. I hold onto the metal rail and look out to the horizon, wondering whether I’ve ever felt more complete in my life. Holding up my hand, I watch the rock on my finger twinkle under the sun’s rays. Forever.
