‘Didn’t fancy a hike then?’ she asked Stuart as they stood waving at the retreating dinghy.
‘With my asthma and beer belly? You’ve got to be kidding.’
Sofia giggled, already mapping out the day ahead.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sofia lay back, feeling like she was finally living the life she had naively imagined for herself back in London when she’d first messaged Captain Mary. She was on the top deck, lounging on a recliner with a glass of homemade lemonade. Sunglasses, headphones, and bikini on. She was listening to one of her favourite podcasts,The Last Supper, where famous chefs talked about their favourite foods to eat and chatted about their upbringing. Sofia hadn’t had a moment to relax since she’d stepped on the boat, and she was grateful that she wasn’t having to hike under the midday sun. Stuart had gone to read inside, far from the heat, and Captain Mary was holed away doing whatever it was she did all day. Sofia felt like she had free rein.
Ali Kamar was whispering in her ear about his love affair with saffron, when she felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped, spilling the lemonade she was holding. She yanked her headphones off and turned to see Jack, standing there with a smirk on his face.
‘You scared me to death,’ she protested, still breathless from the shock.
He sat down on the recliner next to hers and chuckled. ‘And here was me thinking you’d finally learnt how to relax.’
She suddenly felt very self-conscious about how few clothes she was wearing. The bright scarlet of her halter-neck bikini now seeming overly ostentatious, and she crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I wasn’t expecting company,’ she said defensively. ‘I thought you were taking them to the island.’ She looked around uneasily, worried that the trip had been cancelled and she would hurriedly have to get back below deck and into her chef’s whites.
‘Relax, Sofia, it’s just me. You can’t park the tender there, so I brought it back. I’ll go pick them up later.’ He casually began unbuttoning his shirt, and Sofia’s heart quickened. She looked away.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he asked, although he had already tossed it to the side.
‘Not at all,’ she said, hoping it wasn’t totally obvious she was lying.
He reclined into the lounger, hands behind his head. ‘Good, I’ve been meaning to find an opportunity to top up my tan.’
They lay side by side in silence. Sofia assumed that he wasn’t feeling as uncomfortable with the new set-up as she was. She pressed play, but she could no longer concentrate on Ali Kamar’s dulcet tones; she kept having to rewind and listen again every time she caught her mind wandering off.
She was acutely aware of his body next to hers, and she had an irrational flash of fear that he could hear her restless thoughts. She hadn’t felt like that since she was at school. Except she wasn’t a pubescent teen anymore, so really what excuse did she have for the sweat on her palms and her overly frequent need to swallow?
‘I’m sorry about our run-in the other morning. I was in a bad mood,’ he said suddenly.
Sofia was surprised. She was pretty sure she had been the one at fault, overly judgemental and unfoundedly accusatory, as she remembered it.
‘Don’t be silly, it was my bad. I don’t know what got into me. Let’s blame it on the hangover eh?’
‘Agreed,’ he said. She looked over at him. His eyes were closed as he basked in the sun, his torso heaving softly. Her gaze trailed from the smattering of dark curls on his chest down to his belly button where the path was abruptly cut off by the white trousers of his officer’s uniform. She felt feral.
‘So,’ she started cautiously, ‘I know it’s probably none of my business, but what was all that stuff about a family friend?’
Jack let out a deep sigh. He opened his eyes and turned his head to the side to look at her. She pulled her sunglasses off, feeling like he was about to let her in on a secret.
‘Luchiano, he used to work for my grandmother.’ He paused. ‘And he knew my mother.’ Sofia noted the past tense, and the weight with which he said ‘mother’.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, instinctively sitting up and reaching out her hand. Jack looked down at it, and then back up at the sky. Sofia awkwardly laid it on her lap.
‘I hate that look,’ he said evenly, staring ahead, a distant expression clouding his face. ‘The pity. I think I prefer it when you look at me like I’m a jerk.’
‘Really? Oh well that can be arranged. I think I have it saved somewhere.’ She frowned in faux concentration and then fixed her face into a look of derision, eyebrow raised and lip curled.
He laughed and she smiled. She liked the sound of it, warm and a little raspy. ‘I can always rely on you to not take me seriously, Harlow.’
‘But I am sorry, Jack. Losing a parent, I can’t imagine how horrible that is.’ He held her gaze, and she felt her heart ache at the sadness in his eyes.
‘You close with your folks?’ he asked.
Sofia had to look away. She couldn’t handle the intensity of it anymore. ‘Yeah, I’m an only child so me and my parents have always been close. I guess you could say I was spoiled with a deeply functional and happy upbringing. How to explain the neurosis then, I hear you ask?’ She had meant it to be self-deprecating, but as soon as the words were out she realised how callous she sounded.
‘Shit, I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean...’ She scrambled for the right words.
