“Are you trying to distract me from this conversation?” Caleb asks when we come up for air.
“That depends,” I purr. “Is it working?”
“Immeasurably.”
He leans in to kiss me again, his body molding to mine like two pieces of the same cracked tile. I think about how much space he’s taken up in my mind for the last ten days. How torturous the last forty-eight hours without melting into his bare skin have felt. What is it going to be like when it’s not justa security camera or shower wall between us, but an entire ocean?
I pull back, creating distance between us with my hand on his chest.
“Something wrong?” He asks.
“I don’t want this to end,” I blurt out. Oh god. That is not the smooth and sexy cool girl vibe I was going for. I fight the immediate urge to cover my mouth, suddenly terrified of what he might say back.
But Caleb just rolls over onto his back and pulls me toward him, his warm arms enveloping me like a cocoon.
He whispers to me softly, “What if it doesn’t have to?”
“Caleb. I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” he says, and I’m once again awed by the confidence that seems to come so naturally to him. “We could find a way to make it work. I’ll come to you in the off-season. You can visit me when the ship’s at port.”
“But the family… your job. Not to mention we live thousands of miles away from each other.”
“All solvable,” he tells me. “There are no rules about what we do off the boat.”
“Is that so?”
“I could run into you at a park,” he muses softly, twisting his fingers in one of my curls. “Or in an airport bar.”
“No,” I say, running through the fantasy in my mind. “At the Ballard art market. I’ll get a booth there, and you can come see your fabulous portrait on display. Fully nude, of course.”
Caleb laughs into my neck as he covers it with kisses.
“Perfect,” he says, and pulls me so close all I can smell is the earthy salt of his skin.
“I know some part of you wants to push me away, Stella,” he says softly. “I know this scares you. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare the hell out of me, too. But I’ve never met anyone like you. I love the way you challenge me. The way you won’t back down.And neither will I. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than spouting logistics to shake me now.”
I smile, desperate to believe him. Because I don’t want to let go of Caleb. I don’t want to lose the version of myself I am around him—the person he makes me brave enough to be. I want to keep growing. To keep feeling like I can swim with sharks, and take the leap, and say whatever I’m feeling without my tongue petrifying in my throat. Because as much as I’ve tried to ignore it, Caleb isn’t just a vacation fling to me. He’s not just hot runner, or grouchy captain, or the sex god who, for some reason beyond my comprehension, wants me back.
He’s the person who’s woken me up.
24
The next morning is spent underway as we speed back to the Denarau Marina. Ishouldhave a raincloud over my head: not only because we’re leaving the islands tomorrow, but because I’m leaving Caleb. But the high of being with him last night makes me feel like a midwestern dad at a car show. I just can’t seem to stop smiling.
We pull into the crowded marina just after breakfast and I head downstairs to have my coffee alone. The bad news is that instead of looking out on a pristine island chain that puts Hawaii to shame, our current view consists of an oily marina, a restaurant called “Piña Colada-Ville” and the fifty-story Marriot of my corporate nightmares. The good news is that behind it hides a massive stretch of boutiques.
According to the itinerary, the whole family’s going shopping today, which gives me a great excuse to fake a headache and stay behind. Not even Jules can be suspicious of me skipping one of my least favorite activities. If I know anything about Matthew’s consumer habits, they’ll be occupied for at least half the day, and I plan to spend as much of it as I can with Caleb.
I’m not sure what’s going to happen after we fly home tomorrow. But something tells me that despite my reluctance to trust any promises from men, Caleb is serious about trying to make things work. If I reallydon’twant to go back to Carver, maybe it’s not as crazy as it sounds. For a few moments, I let myself daydream about what a life with Caleb might be like. I picture white sails and sea spray that peppers the decks; waking up each morning in a new port, exploring the distant corners of the world. In the jungle, Caleb told me he dreamed of owning his own boat. Maybe I could help him. I could learn to sail. He’d teach me to read the tides. We could spend each night curled up on deck in a pile of blankets, drawing new constellations in the sea of stars.
Focus, Stella. I snap the useless hair-tie against my wrist. I’ll need all my lust-compromised brain power to figure out how I’m going to get Caleb alone after the family heads into town. This might be our last chance to talk before I leave, and I don’t want to miss a single second of it.
I head upstairs at 10:45, entirely rehearsed to deliver my anti-consumerism speech to Harry and my sister. I’m still in my pajamas, and my unbrushed hair sticks up on all sides of my head like Medusa. If I’m going to sell everyone on not feeling up for an outing, I might as well look the part. But the salon is a ghost town when I reach it. Did I get the time wrong again? I swore the itinerary said eleven, and the Warrens aren’t exactly known for changing plans.
“Hello?” I call sheepishly, then again a bit louder. “Guys?”
But there’s no answer. Not even Gia or Allie is waiting in the galley to spring out at a moment’s notice for a cocktail order.
