He winks, then gives me the wiggly brown eyebrows ofyeah, you’re cute, and yeah, I’ve noticed. Probably somecome on, flirt back with mein there too.
I hope I’m staying blank-faced in response. The last thing he needs to know is that I’m ready to panic.
Why aren’t any other guests coming to use the restroom? Or the staff? Where’s security? “My current contract prevents me from going into alternate wine-related businesses,” I tell him as I try again—unsuccessfully—to ease around him.
His chuckle makes my arm hairs stand on end.
“Oh, I can take care of that.”
My brain does that thing it’s been doing since the day I video-called in to Abby Nora’s baby shower to witness her full opinion of me, and it starts spinning out of control.
No one’s coming.
I’m stuck here forever.
I need to puke again.
If he hurts my baby, I will hunt him to the ends of the earth and make him pay.
If this is another elaborate ruse by Abby Nora’s family to make me feel like someone who doesn’t belong in my own life, I’ll—I’ll?—
Fuck.
I’ll cry.
That’s what I’ll do.
I’ll cry because it hurts, and then they’ll know they hurt me, and I don’t want them to know they hurt me.
I want to move on with my life.
Hunt for a house that’ll be perfect for me and my own baby.
Get a dog.
Start a garden.
Plant grapes.
Study for my level three certification.
Have lunch with my mom and stepsister.
Take a chance at trusting people to be my friends again.
“There’s nothing my family can’t do in this town,” Eli Harrison says. “I’ll take care of your contract.”
My feet ache and my stomach is doing that uncomfortable grumble that’s been my constant companion for the past month, but worse, becauseanxiety. “Excuse me, sir, I need to return to the bar to help the other guests before drink service closes.”
Wonderful. He’s frowning now. “I’m a paying customer too. They can wait. Do you take vitamins? I don’t sell them because I need to. Clearly. I’m here getting an award for how I use my millions, aren’t I? I sell them because I believe in them. And you’re pretty, but you could be prettier on vitamins. You join my team, you’d make enough that you wouldn’t have to work second-rate jobs as a bartender either.”
If I were on the ship, someone would’ve come to check on me by now. My colleagues and I—especially the other women—had a system. We watched out for each other.
No one is watching out for me tonight.
Ever since Abby Nora told everyone at her baby shower that the only reason I worked cruise ships was so that I could talk aboutliving on the Medlike I’m better than I really am, I don’t know who I trust to have my back.
I can’t even trust myself at this point.
