WASHY WASHY, HAPPY HAPPY
ASHLEY
Bex strolls into the ship's theater, which doubles as the lifeboat station, right on time. He’s even managed to shower and change in the few minutes he had to get ready—even if his slacks are a little wrinkled…
My mind flashes to the wrinkle releaser I’ve unpacked in the room. I could swing by the cabin before we go to the welcome party…
No.
Thank gosh we’re the only two people from Luna’s wedding party present at this mandatory muster.
We won’t have to play the happy couple.For now.
It’s a lot easier to be separated when we can just be separated.
Beckett drops into the seat beside me, arms folded, the faintest smile playing at his lips.
Before I can ask what he’s up to, the lights dim, and a man strides on stage.
“Good afternoon, and welcome to theParadise Empress, your home for the next six days!” he booms, headset mic gleaming. His name tag reads“Chief Safety & Sanitation OfficerTodd”.His shirt is a blinding shade of teal, and honestly, I kind of hate that it’s the same color as my swimsuit.
He claps twice, beaming. “Welcome to our safety briefing! I’m Todd, but you can call me Captain Clean!”
If a cruise director and a kindergarten teacher had a baby, it would be this guy.
“Now, before we get to the exciting stuff—lifeboats, emergency exits, surviving disaster at sea—I want to talk about something even more important: keeping everybody healthy!”
He gestures toward a massive PowerPoint slide behind him that flashes in glittery font:
“Washy Washy, Happy Happy!”
I blink. Beckett tilts his head.
“Yes, friends,” Todd continues. “If you touch something, wash those hands! If you’re about to eat or drink something, wash those hands! If you feel like you have to sneeze or get that little tickle in the back of your throat, maybe wash them twice… from the safety of your room!”
Beckett’s mouth twitches and I can feel him trying not to laugh.
“Remember,” Todd says, wagging a finger, “the fastest way to ruin a vacation is a stomach bug. We don’t want to bethat shipon TikTok. So use the handwashing stations! They’re everywhere. Dining rooms, elevators, bathrooms, even the mini-golf course!”
“Did you write this speech for him?” Beckett whispers beside me.
“It’s important. Don’t you watch the news?” I answer without looking at him.
“Washy Washy, Happy Happy,” he whispers back.
“Hush.” But I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
Todd points dramatically to a table of orange life jackets. “Now! Let’s review proper donning procedures in the unlikely event of an emergency—because your safety is our business.”
“Step one!” Todd yells. “Insert arms through the straps—like you’re hugging the ocean!”
“So,” Beckett says, pitching his voice low enough that only I can hear, “I’ve been thinking.”
I keep my eyes forward. “That sounds dangerous.”
“If you don’t want your family—and everyone involved in this wedding—to know about our… situation,” he continues, undeterred, “we probably need a game plan.”
I glance at him. “Define game plan.”
