“Of course. Come.” The waiter leads us to a table toward the back. We have a great view of the shore, with lighted buildings and homes. It’s dark outside now, so we can’t see the water, but there are enough lights on shore to make it pretty to look at.
No one says anything at first, but within minutes someone pours us all flutes of champagne, brings baskets of bread and butter, and hands us menus. There are nightly specials as well as items that are apparently always available, like pizza and hamburgers. I haven’t seen any children on the cruise so far, but I figure there have to be adults who were picky eaters too.
“He’s fine,” Chris said softly to Aubrey, gently taking her phone from her.
Aubrey sighs and then glances up. “It’s my first time away from my son. He’s three, and his dad isn’t in the picture. I mean, he’s with my parents so I know he’s okay, but I check my phone constantly to make sure they’re not trying to reach me.”
“I’m sure it’s hard,” Shannon says with an understanding smile. “I don’t have kids, but it seems to me you should take advantage of having time alone with your significant other. My friends tell me it makes a big difference.”
“Oh, it does. I’m just a little nervous.” She reaches for her glass of champagne.
“Let’s have a toast,” Shannon says, picking up hers as well. “To old and new friends and a fantastic adventure this week.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Chris lifts his glass, and we clink them together.
“So how long have you been dating?” Aubrey asks.
“Well…” Shannon glances at me. “We knew each other briefly back when I was in college, but he was in the military and about to be deployed, so we kind of lost touch. We ran into each other about a week ago and picked up right where we left off. And a friend told us we could get on the boat here in Cologne, which is where I live, so we did something a little romantic and a lot impulsive.”
“A week, huh?” Aubrey glances at her husband. “Sounds a little familiar.”
“Really?” Shannon’s eyes twinkle. “Do tell.”
The girls talked about how Aubrey and Chris met just six months ago, while Chris and I have a separate conversation.
“How are you doing?” I ask him. “Everything been okay since you got out? I meant to check in, but I heard you were good.”
“Yeah. Met a great girl, going back to school, ride my bike a lot—can’t complain. What about you? Still jetting off around the world being a hero?”
I snort out a derisive laugh. “Yeah, kinda.”
He arches a brow. “Do I sense a change in the air?”
“I don’t know. My life is complicated.” I glance across the table at Shannon. She has her champagne flute in one hand, laughing at something Aubrey is telling her, her eyes sparkling as they talk.
“Why?” He follows my gaze briefly and then brings it back to me. “Looks pretty simple to me.”
“Do you even know me?” I start to laugh and he does too.
“Well, if you want to talk, I plan to be at the gym at seven. Aubrey will be sleeping in.”
“I don’t know what Shannon’s plans are but?—”
“You’re welcome to go to the gym without me,” she interrupts, laughing. “I have no interest in getting up that early to work out. I’ll sleep in, and maybe Aubrey and I will meet for coffee while you two do whatever exercise thing you want to do.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell him.
We spend the evening with Chris and Aubrey, moving to the lounge after dinner and talking and drinking late into the night. Chris was in the Air Force when the incident with his sister’s rapist happened, and now he’s finding a new way forward but I’m really enjoying his company. He has a bawdy sense of humor, so he has us all in stitches. Surprisingly, Shannon is a lot of fun when she’s drunk, telling hilarious stories about her students over the years.
We drink way too much champagne and tell far too many dirty jokes, but when the DJ plays “Something About The Way You Look Tonight” by Elton John, I have to dance with her. She follows me onto the dance floor and moves into my arms—as usual—as if we’ve been dancing together forever.
Now that she’s up against me, the restraint I’ve been showing all night begins to slip. I want her so much it’s physically painful, but I’m trying like hell to be patient and let her come to me. Not when she’s this drunk, though. I won’t do more than kiss her when she’s like this. If we’re going to make love, it’s going to be when we’re both able to remember every second of it.
“You smell nice,” she murmurs. “I don’t remember you wearing aftershave before tonight.”
“I only wear it when I’m on a date,” I whisper against her ear. She’s moving with me, her body practically molded to mine. And I’m getting hard again. Jesus, I normally have better control than this.
“Is this a date?” she asks softly.
