“No, thank you,” she says too quickly, like she’s going to say that to every question I ask.So I keep my hands at my sides, resisting the urge to reach for her, resisting the urge to pull her into me.My eyes search for clues.
Her chin is lifted.Her gaze is steady.Her hands are empty.No glass.No plate.She’s not eating.She’s not drinking.She’s not enjoying herself tonight.She’s enduring it.
I glance toward my father again, and instantly regret it.He’s talking to another group of guests and moving through the crowd like nothing’s happened.Like he didn’t walk in and freeze the entire deck with one step.Like he didn’t change the air.Like he didn’t change the mood.Like he didn’t change this memory I’ll always have of my thirtieth birthday.How wrong I was to think it was going to be perfect.
All the dominoes lined up, ready to fall.
And hell if they haven’t.
“I don’t know what I said.I don’t know what I did,” I say quietly, accepting that this night can’t be salvaged.
“It’s not you,” she says, quickly.She’s said something like that before.She looks at me for a second and I really think she might let me in and tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.Because I will fix it.But then she inhales, slow and controlled.
“I’m just tired,” she says.
It’s the kind of sentence that ends conversations.That says she’s done.I can’t get through to her, because every attempt I make pushes her further away, retreating into herself.
I don’t want to be that kind of guy.Something’s going on here.I’ll get to the bottom of it.I don’t know how, but I will.
“Okay,” I say, giving in.“As soon as we dock, I’ll get the driver to take you home.Please.”I say it quickly.“If you don’t want me to come with you, I’ll feel better knowing you’ve been taken safely back to your apartment.”
She gives me a small nod, then turns her face toward the water again.I stand beside her, surrounded by celebration.Music roars through the night air again.The deck below us is full of people dancing, with chatter and laughter filling the air.
It feels like watching a movie I’m not a part of.
We’re on the sidelines, not part of the fun.Just watching, like onlookers.
***
The yacht docks, and everything happens quickly.
Maya doesn’t linger.There’s no slow winding down, no standing around while people decide what’s next.She thanks Cari softly, tells Dani and Raquel that it was nice to meet them, then she murmurs something polite to my brothers.She’s already halfway toward the gangway, when I rush to grab her arm.
“I need to go,” she says to me, apologetic but firm.
“At least let me walk you to the car,” I say instantly.“Make sure you get into the right one.”
She swallows, turns away, like she can’t get out of here fast enough.I see the car we came in, and help her get in, before giving the driver her address.
“’Bye,” I say, eyes lingering over her face, willing her to open up to me, to change her mind, to let me in.
Anything.
She surprises me.She sits forward on the seat, her hand reaching for my shoulder.“’Bye, Zach.Hope you had a happy birthday.”She presses a light kiss on my lips and then she sits back.
I close the door, watching the car drive off, and still I feel the press of her lips on mine.
This night ended nothing like I’d hoped it would.
The void Maya leaves behind feels too big.
Enzo stands beside me.“You alright?”
“Not sure.”
He hesitates.“She looked overwhelmed.”
Though he’s usually observant, I’m not sure I agree.This was more than overwhelm.I silently contemplate what it might have been.
