“Do you still want to go where this is headed?” I asked.
“Where doyouwant this to go?” he said.
Everywhere, I thought, not quite sure what I meant by it. I wasn’t thinking of us naked on every surface of this apartment, though I wouldn’t have minded that. I thought of us talking on the bunny pad, and laughing out on the balcony of our apartment, my feet beneath his butt as we watched TV. I thought of him at the gas station down the street, pumping gas as I waited in the stillness of the quiet car and watched him through the window. I thought of things that hadn’t even happened yet. Things that might never happen. Like sitting across from him at an expensive restaurant. Him rolling his eyes as I showed him some wild outfit at a thrift store. Dressing up as Dexter and Rita for Halloween. I saw him at my parents’ house, out on the deck drinking a beer with my dad. There wasn’t a single place or moment I couldn’t picture Oliver Dunne.
It was all too much. I didn’t want to think about what it meant. I only wanted to take without worrying about what belonged to me and what didn’t. I wanted to steal this moment and figure out how to give it back later. I could dull the fear and longing, everything I wouldn’t allow myself to dwell on, with Ollie’s mouth, Ollie’s hands, with every part of him.
He twirled a strand of my hair between his fingers. “And this would all be method acting, right?”
“Right. We’ll make this marriage real for two weeks. Just until the interview,” I said, as much to myself as to him. “That way we won’treallybe lying, and we’ll have more material to draw from. Once it’s all over, we’ll go back to normal. Does that sound good to you?”
Ollie’s eyes were bright when they met mine again. “To tell you the truth, Nina Lejeune, I think it’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”
15
Present day, April, two months left of charter season
When I enter the galley to make the guests coffee on the morning of my thirty-third birthday, Ollie strides over to where I stand beside the espresso machine, his hands behind his back.
“You look awfully peppy today,” I say once I finish grinding the espresso beans. “Did you overdo it watching latte art tutorials again?”
“I’m always peppy,” Ollie says. “Pep is my middle name.”
I roll my eyes and scoop the ground espresso into the portafilter. He’s practically buzzing beside me, and I know why, but I take my time tamping down the espresso and twisting the portafilter into place. Once I’ve started the machine, I turn to Ollie with my hands outstretched. “The goddess will accept your offering now.”
Ollie places a plate with a strawberry cupcake on it into my hands. “Happy birthday, kitten.”
I swipe a taste of the cream cheese frosting. “As good as ever. Youknow I hate giving you compliments. Your ego doesn’t need any extra inflation. I worry your head will float away.”
It’s strange how something as small as this can make me feel like so many versions of myself at one time. The birthday cupcake is tradition, from the flavor to the plate he serves it on. The only year I didn’t have a birthday cupcake on charter was last year. Jo had asked Amir to make one, but he’d misheard her and made a strawberrycakeinstead. It was fine. I didn’t mind. It wouldn’t have mattered if Amir had gotten it right. He could’ve used Ollie’s exact recipe, and it wouldn’t have changed the sense that something was missing.
“We’re going out tonight,” Ollie says.
I set the cupcake on the counter to finish making the guests’ coffees. “No shit we’re going out. It’s our night off.”
“No,” Ollie says. “I’m taking you out on a date tonight.” He swipes some frosting from the cupcake and smears it on the tip of my nose.
“Not with that behavior, you’re not.”
“What behavior?” Ollie says. He scoops another bit of frosting from the cupcake and holds it in front of my face.
“Oliver Joseph Dunne, don’t you dare.” But I’m in the middle of steaming milk, unable to do anything but squeal in protest when he smears it over my cheeks.
“I’ll stop if you let me take you out once we get these guests off the boat.” His eyes flick to the cupcake before roaming my face again. “How do you feel about having a frosting monobrow?”
“Enthusiastic,” I say.
“Mm... that’s too bad. Let’s do a frosting moustache instead.”
I pretend I don’t mind the frosting moustache, but once I hear Britt’s voice coming up the stairs and Ollie goes in for the frosting monobrow, I’ve had enough. “Fine! I’ll go on a date with you. Butonlybecause it’s my birthday.”
Ollie grins. He scoops the frosting from the tip of my nose and licks his finger.
“And I want the bottom bunk,” I add when the milk finishes steaming.
“Oh no you don’t,” he says. “That deal expired two months ago.”
“No deal, no date,” I say.
