17
Present day
After we drop off the guests and the tip meeting ends, I watch from the top bunk of our room as Ollie slips on a button-down and begins folding the sleeves of his shirt to just above the elbow, revealing his forearms in the most frustratingly sexual way. The outfit is something I didn’t know Ollie owned: a bright pink oxford and slim camel-colored chinos. It must be new. Something about it highlights the blue of his eyes and warms the blonder parts of his hair. It’s brighter than he typically dresses, but somehow so very Ollie, the very best of him. Ollie sitting beside me on the bunny pad to watch the sun break over the ocean before the guests wake up. Ollie, eyes flashing in amusement, betraying how much he secretly enjoys bickering with me in the galley. Ollie, questioning the ridiculous things I say as if he takes them seriously—as if he takesmeseriously.
Forget the food. I’m already salivating.
“What?” Ollie says, catching my gaze in the mirror that hangs from the back of our bathroom door.
I want to take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about khakis. “It’s... your butt,” I say.
Ollie cocks an eyebrow. “What about it?”
“It’s...”Marvelous? The eighth wonder of the world? My muse?“A shame.”
Ollie turns to face me and leans against the mirror, hiding his marvelous butt from view. “What’s a shame about my butt?”
“Just... all of it,” I say. I can’t resist checking him out from head to toe. For the love of God, his socks have little unicorns on them.
“I like your socks,” I say, and flop back onto my pillow. I’m dead and gone, and it’s all Oliver Dunne’s fault. If only he’d worn this outfit before, then all this drama between us would’ve been over years ago.
“Are you about to cancel on me?” he says.
“We have a deal.” I probably look miserable lying here with my palms pressed over my eyes. “What makes you think I’m canceling?”
“You haven’t even started getting dressed, and we’re leaving in an hour.”
“Oh.” I lift my hands from my face and sit up. I’m still wearing my khaki shorts for work and a sassy mom tee that reads,I love my ungrateful children. “When you said four o’clock, I thought that was a joke to make sure I was ready on time. It’s far too early for dinner.”
“Do I look like I’m joking about anything related to taking you out tonight?” Ollie says. He turns one way, then the next, posing like a model at a photoshoot. It’s quite the show.
I fan myself with a hand. “It’s too warm in here.” Ollie grins. “Because of that ego of yours,” I add. “It’s filling the room with hot air.”
“I lookmarvelous,” he says.
He really does. “I’ve never seen you this dressed up before,” I say. “Is it a special occasion? The most important person in the world’s birthday, perhaps?”
“That’s not why I’m so dressed up.”
“Pray tell, Mr.Delightful.”
Ollie looks at me, not an ounce of humor in his expression. “It’s our first date. I want to make sure there’s another.”
“Well,” I say, unable to come up with a smart remark, or any remark at all. Ollie winks at me, then disappears out of sight to sit on the bottom bunk.
I hear him rummage beneath the bed. Moments later he reappears with a pair of shoes hanging from his fingers. “We’re leaving in fifty-five minutes,” he says. “I don’t care if you wear that or”—he steps over to our tiny closet and reaches inside—“this.”
He tosses a dress across the room, barking out a laugh when it lands on my face.
It’s the gown I’d been wearing when he showed up at my apartment on New Year’s Eve. The dress is an off-the-shoulder floor-length gown in lilac tulle. I have no idea how Butch managed to get a Carolina Herrera, let alone for a price I could afford. When I asked, he didn’t answer.
“Won’t we be overdressed?” I say.
“I assume so. You always are. You can wear an entire outfit from the costume bin for all I care. Better yet, wear nothing. I wouldn’t complain if I had to carry you naked off this boat.”
“Well, who would?” I say. The image of him throwing me bare-assed over his shoulder and carrying me... anywhere... is undeniably appealing.
Ollie steps over to the bunk and props his chin on the mattress of my bed. “You’d look beautiful in anything. But there’s something about this...” He takes the fabric of the dress between his fingers, his mind seeming to go elsewhere for a moment.
