Ransom, Bess, Nettie, and I have positioned ourselves at the same spot where we greeted passengers ten days ago, though now we’re conducting more of an exit interview than a welcome wagon. Down the gangway, Elodie and Tinsley wave goodbye to departing passengerswith a forced enthusiasm that shows they’ve learned to smile through any crisis.
“I still can’t believe Rex was married,” Bess mutters, sounding more than grateful she dodged that Montana ranch and lifestyle choices that would horrify most rational humans.
“I can’t believe Tinsley made out with a swinger thinking it was true love,” Nettie belts out a laugh. “That woman’s confidence is stronger than her judgment.”
Ransom ticks his head to the side. “I’m just glad the body count didn’t rise.”
“Speaking of romantic disasters,” I say, spotting a familiar couple approaching hand-in-hand with the kind of genuine affection that makes cynics reconsider their life choices, “here comes our success story.”
Claudette and Mark Sterling walk toward us like a before-and-after advertisement for marriage counseling that actually works. They’re practically glowing with reconciliation, their body language screamingwe remember why we fell in loveinstead ofwe’re held together by permanent ink and professional necessity.
“Well,” I say as they approach. “It looks like your Valentine’s Renewal Couples’ Retreat worked wonders for you two.”
“It certainly did,” Claudette beams as she pulls Mark in with a side hug. It looks as if she’s rediscovered that her marriage might actually be worth saving. She turns to her husband with sparkling eyes. “Do you want to share our news?”
Mark’s grin couldn’t get wider if it tried. “I asked her to remarry me last night, and she said yes.”
The cheers that erupt from our little circle could probably be heard in neighboring counties. Even the seagulls outside seem to approve, their cries taking on a more celebratory tone.
“And I told him he can have that forehead tattoo removed,” Claudette adds as if she just granted a presidential pardon. And she sort of did. “A simple wedding ring should suffice. Our trust has been fully restored.”
Mark nods meaningfully at her. “Mine, too.” His expression carries enough weight to let us know he’s learnedthe difference between public humiliation and private devotion. “Sometimes you have to lose everything to remember what really matters.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Bess says.
They say their goodbyes before disappearing into the crowd of disembarking passengers, like a romantic success story they are.
“Well,” Nettie says with a sigh, “at least someone’s marriage survived this floating relationship experiment.”
“I’m glad ours did, too,” Ransom says, dotting a kiss on my lips.
“Hear, hear,” I say, hiking up on my tippy toes and giving him a far more lingering kiss that comes with promises he can cash in later.
Rex and Candy come up together next. Althoughtogetherwould be a generous description of their body language. They’re walking with the careful distance of people who’ve just discovered they have fundamentally different definitions of marriage, monogamy, and basic human decency. And I say good on Candy.
Bess immediately turns her back to the man, her nose pointed toward the harbor as if she’s suddenly developed a passionate interest in English maritime architecture.
“Bess,” Rex begins with a bizarre air of desperation. “If I could just explain?—”
“Leave.” Wes steps forward with a captain’s authority that could freeze hell over. “Now. Before I personally escort you off my ship with the kind of fanfare that involves security footage and incident reports.”
Rex slinks away with his tail between his legs and his wedding ring probably burning a hole in his pocket, disappearing into the crowd like smoke from a very expensive mistake.
Candy looks our way and shrugs. “Thank you. I sort of feel like a woman who’s just been liberated from her own bad decisions.”
I nod her way because she has.
“What will you do now?” I ask, offering her a supportive hug because sometimes female solidarity requires physical contact and emotional backup—and usually ice cream, too.
“I’m single and ready to mingle as far as I’m concerned,” she declares with a newfound strength as if she’s just discovered herspine comes with excellent backbone support and then some. “I’m filing for divorce the minute my feet hit English soil.”
“Good for you,” I tell her, meaning every word. “You deserve someone who’s honest about their relationship status and doesn’t require a spreadsheet to track their romantic commitments.”
“The next time I decide to date,” Candy adds with grim determination, “I’m asking for references, a background check, and possibly a medical exam. If they mention expanding consciousness or alternative lifestyles, I’m running in the opposite direction. Take care, all of you.” She gives Bess’s arm a quick squeeze before heading off toward her new life.
“Sometimes the best relationship advice is knowing when to file legal paperwork,” I say.
“Take note of that, Ransom,” Wes is quick to say with a laugh.
