Below Deck

by Tara Sivec

I grab her wrist and pull it away from me right when her hand gets to the waistband of my shorts. I have no idea what kind of shit this woman is trying to pull, but I don’t have time for it right now, and all she’s doing is making a fool of herself.

  “Ma’am, I think you should probably go find your husband and let me get back to work. How about I radio down to the chef, have him set up a nice, romantic lunch just for the two of you?” I suggest with a smile, dropping her hand and moving back to bend down and pick up the mop, holding it in front of me and using it as a shield.

  “Things between Mr. Armstrong and I aren’t going very well,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I heard a rumor that you’re about to become a captain. That sounds very exciting. I think the two of us should go find a quiet place to relax and you can tell me all about your boat and where you plan on taking me on it.”

  I want to laugh right in her face. Does this shit really work on other men? Obviously it must, considering she landed Mackenzie’s dad. Seeing the look of complete confidence on her face as she struts closer to me again proves she thinks it will work this time as well.

  Holding my hand up to stop her, she pauses, putting her hands on her hips and thrusting her chest out, like the power of her tits is going to make me drop to my knees and agree to whatever this shit is she’s offering.

  “I’m flattered, Mrs. Drake-Swanson-Armstrong,” I tell her, stressing the string of names she made a point to correct me on, swallowing back the bile that rises in my throat. “I don’t know what exactly you heard, but I don’t own a boat. I can barely afford a canoe, let alone a multi-million-dollar yacht.”

  I laugh good-naturedly, expecting her to laugh right along with me at her mistake and make up some sort of excuse about how she was just teasing me, but she doesn’t. Her seductive smile turns into a lip-curling sneer of disgust and she crosses her arms across her chest.

  “Don’t be flattered, I was just taking pity on you and trying to make you feel better after what my stepdaughter has done to you,” she scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

  At the mention of Mackenzie, all the politeness and professionalism I’d been holding onto vanishes in the blink of an eye.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She laughs, shaking her head at me.

  “You poor, gullible man. Do you have any idea how many vacation flings that girl has had, and how many men, just like you, she’s left in her wake? It’s pathetic, really. The way they fall all over her and fall for her lies.”

  I refuse to let myself believe her words. She’s a bitch, and even an idiot could see that she and Mackenzie don’t get along. There’s no way Mackenzie did this before. There’s no way she’d lie to me about something like that.

  You’ve known her less than two weeks. Do you really think you know her all that well?

  I ignore my conscience and the rapid beat of my heart as Allyson keeps going, sticking the knife in a little deeper.

  “I bet she told you she’d never had a vacation fling before. Started off by telling you she wanted to do something fun to take her mind off of all her little problems, how she wasn’t looking for a white picket fence or for you to throw away all your hopes and dreams over someone you just met,” she says, clasping her hands together by her heart and talking in a dreamy voice like she’s reading a fairytale in a children’s book.

  I’d be annoyed and disgusted with Allyson’s behavior if the things she’s saying weren’t the EXACT same things Mackenzie had said to me the day I took her out on the jet ski to the coral reef. I want to tell Allyson to shut the fuck up, but I can’t move, I can’t think, and I can’t fucking speak as she takes the knife she’s lodged in my chest and turns it.

  “And then things changed,” Allyson continues, dropping her hands to her sides. “She stuck her claws in deep, made you want more, and made you think she wanted more. She showed interest in those hopes and dreams of yours and made you think she wanted to be a part of them.”

  Allyson throws her head back and laughs while I continue standing in front of her, holding onto the wooden handle of the mop so tightly that it’s seconds away from snapping in half.

  “I’ve been telling my husband for months he needs to get a handle on that girl, but he doesn’t listen. He just lets her run wild, breaking hearts all over the place, and it looks like she just did it again going by the look on your face.”

  She makes a tsk’ing sound with her tongue, shaking her head at me.

  “But honestly, do you have any idea how much her father is worth? Did you really think you had a shot?”

  Allyson studies me for a few quiet seconds while I clench my teeth so hard that I wait for one of them to crack.

  “Oh, my God. You did!” she laughs again. “You actually thought you had a shot with Mark Armstrong’s little princess. The one who will inherit EVERYTHING he owns. The one who can get anything her little heart desires with just the snap of her fingers. She’s got men lined up back in New York just waiting for her to come home and finally pick one and put them out of their misery. Men her father handpicked, with pedigrees, college educations, and money in the bank. They can give her things like security and stability. What exactly can you give her, other than life on a stupid little boat, that you don’t even own?”

  I can physically feel my heart cracking in half, sending a shooting pain through my chest that robs the breath from my lungs and makes my knees want to give out, but I hold my head up high and push everything back, refusing to let this woman see that her words have hit their desired target.

  “I’m sorry you fell for that little innocent, ‘I’m just a regular girl’ act of hers. When you’re ready for a real woman, you know where to find me.”

  With that, Allyson turns and waltzes away, taking my fucking broken heart with her as she goes.

  I’m a pussy and a fucking coward. Instead of confronting Mackenzie as soon as Allyson walked away from me earlier, I spent the day avoiding her and letting everything her stepmother said stew and fester until I was analyzing every word Mackenzie had ever said to me and every minute we’d spent together. She seemed so honest, so sweet and so real, but now I can’t stop thinking that it was all an act. I can’t stop wondering if everything Allyson said was the truth and everything Mackenzie said was a lie. I want to trust Mackenzie and trust what I feel for her, but I can’t stop reminding myself that I barely know her. I’ve spent less than two weeks with her. Now that the idea has been planted, all I can think about are those men waiting for her back home. Men who are better than me, men with more money than me, men who can give her the security and stability I’ll never be able to, and it’s eating me up inside.

  I knew she was holding something back, and like an idiot, I let it go and gave her time to come to me, to open herself up and give me everything. I realize now what she was holding back was probably the fact that she had better offers back in New York. Ones her father would approve of. Maybe she really did feel something for me, and I didn’t imagine the way she looked at me and the way she believed in me. Maybe she really thought we could have a future, but I was kidding myself for thinking I could be the one to give it to her.

  As tied up in knots as I am over all of this, I still can’t stop wanting her. I still can’t stop needing her. I still can’t stop wishing I had enough to give her and hoping that everything Allyson said to me was all a bunch of bullshit meant to scare me away.

  I’m a pussy, and I’m a fucking coward, because it did the trick.

  “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  I close my eyes for a few minutes, wishing my heart didn’t still beat in double-time when I hear Mackenzie’s voice. Wishing I was immune to her and could just walk away without another look back.

  Setting the tray of glasses from lunch on the counter in the stew pantry, I take a deep breath and turn around to find Mackenzie leaning against the counter in the galley, smiling at me with that soft, gorgeous smile of hers that lights up her entire
face. I mentally yank the knife out of my chest Allyson stuck in there earlier, giving Mackenzie a smirk instead of wincing in pain.

  “Well, you found me. What can I help you with?”

  She rounds the edge of the island and walks over to the door of the pantry to stand in front of me.

  “I just wanted to see what time you got off work. Thought we could do something fun tonight and talk before tomorrow gets here. I’ve got a problem I need your help with.”

  Tomorrow. Her last morning on the boat and the day she’ll walk out of my life and back to all the offers and opportunities waiting for her back home with the snap of her fingers.

  “Right, tomorrow will be here before you know it,” I reply with a light, breezy attitude I’m definitely not feeling. “I’m guessing you’re referring to the problem with your job? I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. It’s not like you need to work anyway, right?”

  I laugh at my attempt at a joke, wanting to throw up with each fucking painful chuckle that comes out of my mouth.

  Nothing about this is funny. Not the words that I’m saying and not the way Mackenzie’s smile immediately drops and all the blood rushes from her face. I want to take back the words I just said, but what’s the point? They’re true. Even if everything between us wasn’t a lie, even if every word out of Allyson’s mouth was bullshit, a lot of it was still right on target. Mackenzie has a perfect life waiting for her back in New York. And even if she pays her own way and doesn’t take a penny of her father’s money, she still can. And that’s the problem. I will never be able to give her that kind of safety or stability.

  “But you’re right,” I continue with a fake fucking smile, ignoring the look of pain written all over her face, telling myself it doesn’t matter and she’ll be fine. “We should do something fun to celebrate your last day stuck on this boring, stupid boat. I get off work at nine. Meet me up on the sundeck and we’ll have a late dinner.”

  I know I shouldn’t make these plans with her. I know I should just leave her alone and let her walk away, but I’m a Goddamn glutton for punishment. As much as I know it will hurt, I need this last night with her. I need one more night of being close to her. One more night of pretending like something more between us could actually work before I rip the Band-Aid off and come crashing back down to reality.

  Bending down, I kiss the top of her head, clenching my hands into fists so I don’t wrap my arms around her, beg for her forgiveness and tell her I didn’t mean anything I said. I walk around her, whistling as I go, jamming my fists into the pockets of my shorts before I punch the wall of the galley on my way out.

  I’m a pussy, and a fucking coward.

  CHAPTER 24

  Mackenzie

  Allyson and Arianna supposedly started coming down with some sort of flu on our final leg of the journey back to St. Thomas, and I can’t say I’m not incredibly happy the over-the-top, formal dinner for our last night on the ship was cancelled. I was in no mood to wear a fancy dress, do my hair or put on make-up, and sit around a table pretending like I didn’t want to pick up my knife and stab both of them for what they’d done to my father.

  Something tells me they don’t really have the flu, and they’re staying locked away together in Arianna’s room because my father told Allyson immediately after we talked, in no uncertain terms, that her life was over. That he knew what she’d been doing, and he’d be handing it all over to the authorities once we got back to St. Thomas, as well as handing her divorce papers.

  I wanted to cheer and shout and be happy that my father finally stood up for himself and took back control of his life, and couldn’t wait to find Declan and tell him everything.

  That excitement was short-lived when I found him down in the galley earlier. I was now in no mood to do anything other than curl up in a ball in my room and cry until I had nothing left in me. I planned on doing exactly that for the rest of the night, especially when Brooke found me and told me dinner was cancelled.

  Of course I couldn’t hide what happened or pretend like everything was fine when my face was red and splotchy and my eyes were puffy from crying for hours. I told her everything that happened with my father. I told her it made me realize it was time to get a life and that I wanted that life to begin and end with Declan. I told her I was falling in love with him, and he just shattered my heart into a thousand pieces with his callous words.

  She cursed his name and got angry on my behalf, but all I could do was stay curled up in a ball in the bed, unable to make my limbs move an inch.

  Had I been wrong about him all this time? Had I misjudged or misheard the things he said to me in the wheelhouse that night? How could I be so stupid? How could I think that a man I just met would ask me to stay with him and never leave?

  “That’s it. Get your ass out of bed and get in the shower,” Brooke suddenly orders, sliding out of bed from behind me where she’d been holding me and letting me cry into my pillow.

  “I don’t want to,” I sniffle.

  “I know you don’t. I know you’re pissed and you’re hurt and you’re sad, but this is your last night on this boat. Your last night with Declan.”

  She comes around to my side of the bed and I glare up at her when she says his name.

  “I know. He’s an asshole and I really want to go find him and chop off his balls, but you need to do this for you, not for him. If you skip out on this dinner with him, avoid him, and walk off this boat tomorrow without looking back, you’re going to regret it. Take a shower, get dressed, hold your head up high and show him what he’s missing. Show him just how royally he fucked up,” Brooke demands.

  I close my eyes and burrow my face into my pillow, wishing she wasn’t right. Spending the evening with him will kill me, but I know it would hurt even worse if I walk away tomorrow without even trying, always wondering “what if.”

  With a sigh, I pull myself out of bed and head for the shower.

  Wearing my favorite pair of jean shorts and a fitted t-shirt I got from St. Thomas before we boarded the ship almost two weeks ago, I make my way along the outside deck, running my hand along the railing as I go, staring out at the dark water we’re slowly making our way through while the gentle ocean breeze rustles my hair around my face.

  My bare feet come to a stuttering stop when I get around to the sundeck and see what Declan has done.

  The lounge chairs have all been folded up and put away, and he’s spread a blanket out on the floor in the middle of the deck. The blanket has been set up just like the table usually is for dinner—with two white plates and silver domes covering them, silverware and crystal glasses, napkins folded into elegant shapes, and a large vase in the middle filled with fresh flowers. Dotting the blanket, and set up all around it, are small glass candleholders with flickering tea light candles lit inside.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Declan’s voice brings my head up from the spread in front of me. I find him leaning his shoulder against the side of the ship with his hands in the front pockets of his cargo shorts, staring at me. His eyes heat my skin as they slowly travel up my bare legs and across my torso to my face. The corner of his mouth tips up into a smile and I press one hand to my stomach, the sight of his dimples making me want to jump over the blanket to kiss him and cry at the same time.

  After tomorrow morning, I’ll never see those dimples again. I’ll never hear his voice telling me I’m beautiful and actually making me believe it. He went along with me keeping things light and easy, and we’ve had fun together the last few days, but then he went and ruined it all and made me second-guess everything we’d shared. Now that the moment is here, now that it’s almost time for me to leave him, I wish I’d told him everything I wanted to say. I wish I had the courage to do it now, in spite of how wrong I was about him. I hate myself for being a coward. I hate myself for not wanting to ruin our last night together, even though he ruined what I thought I could have for my future.

  “I’m wearing ratty jean shorts and
a t-shirt,” I tell him with a raise of one eyebrow, breaking his stare to look down at myself and joke about the “beautiful” comment, even though it’s taking everything in me to remain calm and casual when all I want to do is break down and cry again.

  “You could be wearing a potato sack and you’d still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he replies softly, pushing away from the wall to walk over to the opposite side of the blanket from me.

  He gestures with his hand for me to join him, and I paste a smile on my face, taking the few remaining steps to the edge of the blanket.

  We both sit down across from each other, and he reaches towards me, wrapping his hand around the handle of the silver dome on top of my plate, as well as the one in front of him.

  “I asked Marcel to make something fancy and special for tonight.”

  With a flourish, he whips both domes off at the same time, and I can’t help but laugh loudly when I see what he’s had Marcel make.

  “Cheeseburgers and french fries!” I exclaim, clasping my hands together and holding them against my heart. “My favorite.”

  “Only the best for my girl.”

  My hands slowly drop down into my lap and I keep the smile on my face, even though my eyes burn with tears. I don’t know why he called me that, and I hate how it makes my heart flutter when I know it’s not true.

  I just want him to take back what he said to me in the galley. I want him to apologize, tell me he was wrong and I was right. Tell me I wasn’t imagining things in the wheelhouse the other night and that I still make him want to break all the rules and change his plans.

  I just want him to ask me to stay.

  We eat our dinner in silence, listening to the waves crash against the side of the ship that brings me closer and closer to the moment I’ll have to leave him. It takes a lot of effort for me to eat, swallowing past the huge lump in my throat, but I finish everything, not wanting him to think I don’t like or appreciate the meal he had Marcel prepare for us. Wanting him to think I’m perfectly fine this thing between us isn’t going any further and that I’ll be perfectly fine when I get off that ship tomorrow and never see him again.