by Tara Sivec
Declan quietly clears off the blanket, moving everything to a tray on the table a few feet away, before joining me again. He lies down on his back next to me, grabbing my elbow and tugging me down. I curl up into his side with my head in the crook of his arm that’s resting on the blanket behind my back, and we stare up at the stars in the clear sky above us.
“What was your favorite part of your vacation?” he asks softly.
I turn my head to find him looking down at me instead of the stars.
You. My favorite part of this vacation was you. Every minute I spent with you, until you realized you’d made a mistake and pushed me away.
“That’s a tough one. Probably driving a jet ski for the first time and doing my best to chuck you off the back of it,” I joke, knowing if I say anything else, I’ll burst into tears.
He laughs, his smile growing wider as he twirls a lock of my hair in his fingers, looking away from me and back up to the sky.
“What’s your favorite part of your job?” I ask, unable to take my eyes away from his profile, studying it and memorizing it so I’ll never forget it.
“Everything. But I guess the travel. Getting to see new places and always waking up somewhere new. I’m not very good at staying in one place for very long. I get grumpy and anxious to move around. I know you don’t like your job very much, but at least it pays well. At least it’s secure and stable. I don’t even have two fucking nickels to rub together, but that’s just the way I like it.”
I blink back the tears as he continues to watch the stars, hearing the irritation in his voice and not believing a word he says. I don’t know why he’s saying these things to me and it makes me want to push myself away from him, scream at him that I no longer have a well-paying job or a job of any kind. That my life is anything but secure and stable right now and that I wanted more than anything for him to give that to me. I don’t care if he has all the money in the world or not a cent to his name. I just wanted him, and I don’t understand why he couldn’t see that. I don’t understand why it matters.
Keeping my thoughts to myself, I know without a doubt that I’m doing the right thing by not laying my heart out and telling him everything. What the hell kind of future could we even have? I live in New York and he lives on a boat.
I just want him to ask me to stay.
“You’re absolutely right. My life is perfect back in New York. I was just having a moment. You’re going to make a great captain,” I tell him, hiding my lies behind reassurance that I believe in him and I’m happy for what his future holds, even if he doesn’t want me in it.
“Mackenzie,” he whispers, his face turning back to mine.
I don’t know what he’s about to say, and I don’t want to know. If he tells me something flippant, like he had fun and he’ll miss having me around to keep him on his toes just to keep things light and easy, it will belittle everything I’m feeling right now and ruin this moment.
Instead of letting him finish, letting him hurt my feelings and break my heart even more, I press my hand against his mouth, wanting something good to remember about this moment instead of something that will destroy me.
“Not right now. I don’t want to think about anything else right now,” I tell him.
Declan turns on his side to face me, his arm around my shoulder moving down around my back to tug me closer to his body. He wraps his free hand around my wrist, pulling my hand away from his mouth to press my palm against his heart, trapping it between us.
Without saying a word, he gives me what I want and makes me stop thinking about anything else but the two of us and this perfect moment, lying under the stars on the deck of a yacht.
He moves his head closer and I close my eyes when he presses his lips to mine. The kiss is slow, and soft and sweet, and I pour everything into it as I swipe my tongue through his mouth, letting him know without words how I really feel. How I wish I had the courage to tell him. He keeps my hand pressed to his chest and deepens the kiss, sliding his arm down my back until he’s clutching my ass and pulling my lower body flush against his.
I can’t deny my body’s reaction to him, even after the words he said to me today. I can’t stop wanting him, needing him, and craving him. My hips rock against his, feeling how hard he is for me. I let go and let myself be okay with the fact that at least we still have this, and neither one of us can hide it behind silence and fear, or shitty words and pretending.
Declan suddenly pulls his mouth away from mine, his eyes dark and his heart thumping rapidly under the palm of my hand as he looks down at me.
“Come back to my room with me.”
It’s not a question and it’s not a demand. His voice is soft and low and there’s an edge to it that tells me this is a plea. He’s begging me, and there’s nothing I can do but say yes.
I nod in response and he helps me up from the blanket, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the sliding glass doors into the ship, leaving everything behind in our haste to get to his bunk.
We quietly move through the dark ship, a few softly glowing nightlights guiding our way across the formal dining room, downstairs through the galley, and into his room. It’s in the same small hallway where the laundry room is located, right across the hall from it, and I can’t ignore the sting of tears when I remember the first night we were together, and how easy and uncomplicated it was.
As Declan quietly turns the handle to his room and pulls me inside, I know everything that happens after this moment will confuse my already muddied heart and mind, but I can’t deny him what he wants. I can’t deny myself what I want, and I want him, however I can have him, one last time.
We squeeze together on the tiny bottom bunk in his room, neither of us saying a word as we slowly undress each other, easily laughing when Declan hits his head on the bottom of the top bunk and when I slam my elbow against the wall trying to remove his shirt.
He rolls on top of me and I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his shoulders. His hands slide under my back and he pulls my body as close to his as possible, kissing me softly as he enters me slowly. Our arms stay locked around each other as we move together, neither of us in a hurry for this to end.
There are no dirty words whispered in my ear this time, no quick and frenzied fucking, just slow and steady and more powerful than anything I’ve felt before.
I press my hands to either side of his face as my hips move against him, taking him deeper and loving the way he moans my name. His forehead rests against mine and I close my eyes as he rocks his body into me, the slow push and pull of his cock in and out of me lighting my body on fire and making me ramble in French. It’s easy to say the words, to tell him everything I wish I had the guts to say, when he has no idea what they mean.
“Demande-moi de rester. Je ne veux jamais te quitter. S’il te plait, demande-moi de rester,” I whisper with my eyes still tightly closed and our foreheads pressed together.
My softly spoken words do exactly what I expected them to. Declan groans my name and starts moving his hips faster, taking me harder, slamming into me rougher. It doesn’t matter that I want this to last forever, it’s impossible to slow down my release when he’s so deep inside me, swiveling his hips in a slow circle and hitting just the right spot over and over, holding me tight. His eyes never leave mine as my orgasm works its way up my body and explodes out of me. I tighten my legs around him and bury my face in the side of his neck as I come, my voice muffled as I whisper his name.
Declan’s hands slide down to my ass and he tips my hips up, pumping into me faster as he follows right behind me, quickly finding his own release with my name on his lips before collapsing on top of me.
I lose track of time as we stay locked together. Our arms are still around each other, and Declan is still inside of me. I know I will never feel as safe and secure and whole as I do right now, with the heavy weight of his body on top of mine, and I keep my face pressed against the side of his neck so he won’t see my tears.
He can deny it all he wants, make flippant comments, and pretend like light and easy is all he wants from me now, and make me second-guess everything that happened between us, but I know he’s lying. I know he feels something more for me, and I know he wants me to change his plans, even if he won’t say the words again. I have no idea what happened to make him act like this, and I’m too much of a coward to question him.
I just want him to ask me to stay, but he never does.
CHAPTER 25
Declan
Watching Mackenzie and her family say good-bye to the crew, letting her walk off the ship without saying anything was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done. Standing in a line next to the rest of the crew, I had to remain stoic and professional when Mackenzie, her father, and Brooke walked down the line, shaking each of our hands and thanking us for a wonderful trip, when all I wanted to do was pull her away from everyone and tell her I fucked up. Tell her I didn’t care about not being good enough for her because I’d spend the rest of my life making sure I got there and gave her everything she deserved.
Allyson and Arianna were absent from the good-bye, and according to Zoe, they got off before everyone else woke up, probably because they didn’t give a shit about pleasantries and thank you’s. I didn’t care where they were, I didn’t care about anything but the fact that I let the best thing that’s ever happened to me just fucking walk away.
I almost dropped to my knees when her small hand slid into mine. I almost cried like a fucking baby when she looked up at me with a sad smile on her face and told me it was fun, but it was time for her to get back to the good life she left behind.
The good fucking life that I wouldn’t be a part of and it was my own damn fault. I knew she didn’t care about money. I knew she didn’t care about whatever guys were waiting for her back home, ready to give her whatever she wanted. I knew she wasn’t the type of woman who gave a shit about what someone had as long as they were a decent human being and treated her with respect.
I treated her like shit. I took everything I knew about her, let her bitch of a stepmother poison me with lies and make me believe things that weren’t true, and I hurt her in the worst way possible. She’d opened up to me and told me she was miserable working for her father, and I threw it right back in her face, made a joke out of it, and made a demeaning comment about how she didn’t really need to work.
I stopped trying to convince her to stay, and pushed her away instead.
For the last two days, ever since I watched her walk off this ship, I’ve spent my time in the bottom of a bottle when I’m not working to get ready for the next charter. I’ve tried drinking away all the shitty things I said to her, wishing it would erase them from my mind and make them not true, but it hasn’t worked. Nothing works. Nothing will erase what I did to her, nothing will erase the smell of her from my pillows and my sheets from our last night together, nothing will erase her smile, or her laugh, or her touch, or the sound of my name on her lips.
I let her slip right out of my hands, and I have no one to blame but myself.
“You look like shit,” Zoe announces, walking into the crew mess and flopping down on the bench seat next to me, Ben following behind her and taking a seat on the other side of me.
He leans over and sniffs my shoulder.
“Jesus, you smell like shit too,” he complains, pulling back and giving me a disgusted look.
I bring the half-empty bottle of whiskey up to my mouth, but Zoe snatches it away and slams it down on the table.
“That’s enough. You’re cut off.”
Glaring at her, I reach for the bottle but she smacks my hand away.
“Nope. No more,” she informs me, sliding the bottle further out of my reach. “We’ve let you sit here feeling sorry for yourself for two days, and it ends now.”
Resting my elbows on the table, I put my head in my hands and close my eyes.
“I fucked up,” I mutter.
“We know,” Ben and Zoe reply in unison.
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
Ben sighs and I drop my hands to the table to look at him.
“I can’t believe you didn’t ask her to stay, man. I thought that’s where your mind was at. I thought that’s what you wanted. Then, the next thing I know, she’s walking off the ship looking like you just kicked her puppy and Brooke is telling me if you’re anywhere around when she comes to see me next month she’ll cut your dick off,” Ben says.
“Why in the hell would I ever ask her to stay? To do what, hang around on the ship and watch me work? She has a life and a job and it’s all back in New York. I don’t fit in her world and she doesn’t fit in mine,” I tell him, knowing I’m lying. Even if I don’t fit into her world, she absolutely fits into mine.
And knowing that right now, I miss her so much and I hurt so much inside without her here that I don’t give a shit who doesn’t fit where. I’ll do whatever it takes to make everything fit.
“I know you don’t believe that shit, so why are you saying it? Who are you trying to convince? Because I damn sure know it’s not true,” Ben argues. “I’ve never seen you so fucking happy. I’ve never seen you want something more than what this ship has to offer. I’m not saying it’s not an awesome thing that you have a goal and a dream. I’m just saying, it’s good to have more than one. It’s good to have something else to come home to when you have a shitty day. She could have been your home, and you fucked it all up because you’re so hung up on the fact that she has money and you don’t.”
I thought I was hung up on that. Allyson made me believe I couldn’t give her what she wanted and I wasn’t good enough for her, but I can’t lie to myself anymore. I might not be able to buy her things, but I can give her something worth a whole hell of a lot more. I can give her my heart and my soul and my promise to do whatever it takes to make her never feel like anything is lacking from her life. I can give her every piece of me and beg her to never let go.
“I’m not hung up on that shit. I was. I mean, I got confused for a little bit, but I know it’s not important. I know she doesn’t care about those things and none of that matters,” I tell Ben quietly.
“Thank fucking God,” Zoe mutters. “I really didn’t want to have to beat the shit out of you to get you to see the light.”
I smile at her, but I don’t have the energy to laugh. My chest is too tight wondering what the hell I’m going to do to get Mackenzie back, and my stomach is starting to churn with all the alcohol I consumed in the last two days.
“How the hell am I going to fix this? I know I was an asshole, but she agreed with me. She told me her life is perfect back in New York. She told me she was just having a moment when she said she hated her job and didn’t know what to do with her life. Am I really supposed to chase after her, ask her to leave her perfect life where she can have anything she wants, and tell her to take a chance, living on a fucking boat with me?” I ask, rambling like an idiot as my heart starts beating faster with nerves.
“Yes, you dumb shit. And she lied.”
All three of us look up at Marcel when he walks into the room, tossing a printout of a New York Times article onto the table in front of us.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Since when do you speak English?” Zoe asks in shock.
He ignores her, pressing his palms on top of the table and leaning over it towards me.
“You make a stupid comment about how at least she doesn’t need to worry about going back home, because it’s not like she needs to really work anyway, and you’re surprised she didn’t tell you the truth? You lied, so she lied. Stop being a dumb shit and get your head out of your ass,” Marcel scolds, smacking his hand against the newspaper article and sliding it closer to me.
“Dude, you told her it’s not like she needs to work anyway? Ouch. No wonder you’ve been bathing in whiskey and Brooke wants to cut off your balls,” Ben mutters.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, all of that whiskey
Ben mentioned bubbling in my stomach and threatening to come right back up all over the table when I see the headline for the front page story in the Times and the corresponding article.
“Mark Armstrong, multi-millionaire and owner of Armstrong Industries, the industry leader in software applications, filed for bankruptcy yesterday morning after the culmination of a six-month long investigation,” Zoe reads over my shoulder. “The investigation, led by his daughter, Mackenzie Armstrong, resulted in indisputable proof that Mr. Armstrong’s wife of one year, Allyson Drake-Swanson-Armstrong, has been funneling money from Armstrong Industries, as well as Mr. Armstrong’s personal accounts, into offshore foreign accounts, for the entirety of their marriage. Charges are being brought against Mrs. Drake-Swanson-Armstrong and she is currently being held at Albion Correctional Facility in Albion, New York until trial. Mrs. Drake-Swanson-Armstrong’s daughter, Arianna, has entered into a plea bargain, swearing she had no knowledge of her mother’s deeds, and is hoping to have all charges against her dropped. The prosecution is still trying to uncover where all of Mr. Armstrong’s money disappeared, but it looks like Armstrong Industries will be closing its doors for good after this weekend, letting go of over three-hundred and seventy-five employees, including Mr. Armstrong’s daughter. Mr. Armstrong and his daughter are currently out of the country, and unavailable to comment on the possibility that Mr. Armstrong will also find himself doing jail time, due to his inability to pay his business and personal federal taxes.”
All of us are silent in the small dining area when Zoe finishes reading the article. My head spins and I feel like I can’t breathe.
“He doesn’t have a lot of time for me, and he’s been ignoring problems that have been staring him in the face for months. I’m not really looking forward to going back home, where reality is going to crash like a bull in a China shop, and he won’t be able to ignore things anymore. At work or at home.”
