The twins join me a minute later—one on each side—Max slumping against my shoulder while Blakey curls up in my lap. Every time the shade slides away, I throw whatever I have over them: my cover-up, a towel, another towel. Basically constructing a rotating portable tent out of sheer maternal desperation.
Beckett stands close by, steady despite the rocking, not talking. Just being there.
And honestly? It’s really comforting. Feeling like a family.
I’ll be mad at him for that again, later. Once we’re back in the comfort of the ship.
Captain Julio, meanwhile, keeps right on performing, asking trivia questions no one wants to answer, “offering” free shots of tequila to anyone who got them wrong.
Beckett, always the good sport, is literally the last man standing. He’s not even bothered when the “paparazzi” squat down to show him the photos of his beautiful family…
“How many nines are there in one hundred?” Captain Julio refuses to give up on us. If fun could be forced by sheer willpower, well…
“Ten!” I answer without thinking.
“Ah, for such a smart-looking lady, you are… WRONG,” Captain Julio announces. “And when you are wrong on my boat, you take a shot.”
The bartender hands him a tiny green glass. Julio presents it to me with great ceremony.
“You have to drink it, Mom,” Max says helpfully, perking up under his towel tent.
“That’s the rule,” Blakey adds, solemn as a judge.
My mom reaches out a hand. “But she can’t dri?—”
“I’ll take her punishment.”
Beckett steps in before Mom can finish the sentence and throws the shot back like it’s water.
He barely reacts—just the smallest wince as the cheap tequila hits his stomach. Gone as quickly as it appears. Like he’s used to swallowing things that burn.
“Come on now,” Julio presses on, hosting his own personal game show. “Someone must know the answer!”
“Eleven!” Babs yells from the back.
Wrong. Another shot.
She hands it straight to Beckett. Naturally.
“Zero?” Patty calls.
Wrong. More tequila.
By now, even the spectators are doing the math. A few people count on their fingers.
And beside me, Max and Blakey have been conspiring.
Max pokes Beckett’s arm. Beckett bends down.
“You guys know it?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Max says. “But if we’re wrong, you have to take the punishment.”
Blakey nods gravely. “Cause we’re too young.”
Beckett chuckles. “Go ahead. Take your best shot.”
The boys scramble to their feet, and Beckett rests a hand on each of their shoulders like he’s presenting tiny prodigies on a game show.
