Georgia
“We’re here,” Emmett pumps his fist in the air, and I giggle as I sip on my mimosa, a celebratory drink for completely the voyage in one piece.
St. Augustine rises out of the horizon, with its orange tile rooftops and palm trees, the old fort at the inlet entrance standing defiant against the morning sun. I take a deep breath in, my heart jumping with anticipation.
And some fear.But that’s healthy, right?
I prop my elbows on the rail, savoring the wind, letting the sharp bubbles of the champagne spark against my tongue. It’s not even noon, and a little early for a drink, but something about arriving at our last port before New York makes it feel like it’s a holiday.
“I can’t believe the trip is almost over,” I say. My words get whipped away by the wind, so I lean back and say it again, louder, to Miles. He’s beside me, his perfectly disheveled hair blowing into his eyes as he squints at the shoreline.
He glances over. “Technically, it’s just beginning, you know. We’re going to port here, and then hop on a flight back to NYC where the journey will just continue.”
I peer up at him, trying to picturehowwe mesh all of this together. “Exactly.” I’ve been lost in the haze of the phenomenal, mind-blowing sex, and pushing the practicalities out of my mind.
Like my dad finding out just how complicated this is.
Fuck him. He’s always just wanted to manage my life instead of being supportive.
But still, even if I managed to walk out and give him the middle finger of sorts, it doesn’t fix the innate need I have to make him not hate me, at least. Orsomethinglike that.
Call it childhood trauma, I guess.
“So, what’s been your favorite part?” Miles asks me, placing an arm around my shoulder. It sends a blast of warmth against my skin, and I want nothing more than to lead him right back to his bedroom.
Or mine. Or Emmett’s. Or Brody’s.
This is still so weird.
I shake it off, refocusing on his question. “By far it’s been the company.” He pulls me into him and plants a long kiss on my lips.
“Damn,” Emmett coos from the side. “Get a room.”
Miles chuckles as we break apart. “So you can watch?” He leaves his hand resting against my collarbone.
“Of course,” Emmett smirks at him, and then to me. “We all seem to enjoy that arrangement.”
Heat creeps up my face as my mind flashes backwards. “I have to agree with that.” I tip my drink back and take a long sip, forcing my attention back to St. Augustine. I feel like I should be more excited than I am.
But part of me just wishes I could stay trapped in this bubble forever.
“Land ho,” Emmett crows, then wraps his arm around my waist, sandwiching me between himself and Miles.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, but I lean into him anyway, letting the heat of his body warm the other side of me. He rests his chin on my head, and I can feel the tickle of his stubble through my hair.
My eyes drift to Brody, who is still at the helm, his face as impassive as always. He stands there, occasionally glancing at the horizon, then at me, then away again. He’s the only one not trying to play it cool, and the tension radiating off him puts static in the air.
“I vote for breakfast,” Emmett says. “We’ve got at least an hour before docking, and I’m dying for some of Georgia’s eggs.”
“You’re always dying for my eggs,” I tease, but he’s already dragging me back toward the main cabin, Miles following close behind.
I shake them off and duck down to the galley. Within minutes, I’m cracking eggs, dicing an onion, and cubing up leftover roasted potatoes from last night. It’s second nature now, and almost cathartic, given that something inside justwon’tstop freaking gnawing at me.
Emmett appears at my elbow, nudging a glass of juice into my hand. “Are you nervous about talking to your dad again?” he asks, leaning in and brushing his lips against my neck.
“Not really,” I lie, flipping the eggs too early. “He’ll probably just ignore me or lecture me for being so irresponsible. Maybe he’s given up on the intimidation game.”
“Maybe he’ll come around,” Emmett mumbles. I can’t tell if he actually believes it or if he just thinks that’s what I need to hear.
