by Kim Linwood
Through the window I see thick clouds rolling towards us, not quite obscuring the sun, but soon. Looks like crappy weather’s coming our way. Awesome. Suits my mood better anyway. I was getting a bit sick of all the happy people hanging out in their designer swimwear, lounging around happily on the sundecks talking in happy voices about how awesome everything fucking is. Because it’s not.
“Gavin.”
I don’t turn to face the voice. Of course I recognize it. She sounds angry, disappointed and sad, all at the same time. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that? I’ve got enough going on in my own head, thanks.
When I don’t answer, Angie slides onto the stool next to me. Having her near me drives me crazy, muscle memory remembering last night and eager to go again. She’s wearing a flowery sundress that’s sheer enough that in the right light, I bet I could see everything.
I want to tear it off to see if she’s wearing anything underneath. Common sense says she is, but my imagination is convinced she isn’t, filling my mind with images of fucking her right on top of the bar, in front of everyone. Hell, why shouldn’t I? The damage is already done.
The bartender gives us a curious look but keeps his distance until she speaks to him. “Could I have two glasses of water, please?” She sounds cool and collected. A far cry from how I left her. Gone from molten heat to frosty ice.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Caldwell.” We watch in silence as he pulls down two tall beer glasses, fills them with ice out of a bucket under the bar, then pours them full of water. With a practiced motion, he slides them down the bar just like he did with my scotch. “I’d keep a hand on them, though. The seas are getting choppy out there.” After seeing us catch, he moves to the other end of the bar, pretending not to watch us.
“Thank you.” Taking one glass for herself, Angie pushes the other towards me. “Unless you want to feel even more miserable after you’re done feeling miserable, you should drink some water.” I watch her sip hers but I don’t touch mine. It’s a stupid kind of spiteful pride.
Minutes drag by without either of us saying anything. What does she want? An apology? She’s not getting it. Not unless I’m sure, and I’m not good at that apologizing shit anyway. I can’t blame the cruise on her, or our crazy fucking wedding, but for all I know she just grabbed the perfect opportunity.
Fuck, that sounds lame even to me.
“So tell me. What do you want?” I lash out at her like a wounded animal. “Money for college? A house in France? A diamond-studded hobby horse? Can’t put a price on love, can you? But a baby on the other hand... gold mine.”
She stiffens, but doesn’t answer. Just nurses her water, ignoring me in a way that I can’t ignore. Every minute she spends not looking at me is a minute I want to grab her chin and force her to look in my eyes. Quiet Angie is new. I don’t know her, and I don’t like her. Give me ball-busting Angie any day.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she opens her mouth. “I want...” Dragging it out. No idea if she’s still thinking or just baiting me. “I want you to get the fuck over yourself.” There she is. The bitch is back. Good.
“Me? That’s fucking rich. You can drop the act now, babe. You won.” I reach for the water then change my mind, refusing to take anything from her. Instead, I do what I do best. Lash out again. “Will you name him after me, at least?”
She keeps her voice even, but her fists tighten until her knuckles turn white. When she looks at me, cold fury stabs at me from her narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what people have done to you. Maybe they’ve been horrible. Maybe you have every right to be suspicious, but maybe you’re just so freaking full of yourself that you can’t see past your own damn nose.”
“Angie—”
She cuts me off. “Shut up. I’m not done.” It’s not just fury. There’s a sadness in her eyes as well. “But when you blow up and blame me for a stupid mistake—which for the record is as much yours as it is mine—like I’m out to get you, that doesn’t make you a freaking victim. It just makes you petty and small.”
“You don’t fucking know me.” I hiss it out through clenched teeth, hating how I sound like a whiny kid. The pain inside still wants to get out, and impulse control’s never been my strong suit. “You have no idea what my life’s been like. Don’t fucking judge me.”
Sipping her water, she takes her sweet time. Is she doing it on purpose to aggravate me? She doesn’t even look at me when she speaks. “I feel sorry for you.”
“Me? Well, don’t. I don’t need your fucking pity.”
“You spend so much time hiding from attachment that you don’t recognize it when it slaps you in the face. No wonder you only do one-night-stands. You’re too much of a fucking chicken.” She slams her empty glass on the counter and stands. Turning towards the door, she doesn’t look at me when she speaks with a tight voice. “You know, for one night I thought I’d found the real you. The little part inside that’s not an asshole. Guess the joke’s on me. Turns out that little part’s an asshole too.”
And with that, she strides right out, leaving me with my empty glass of scotch and an untouched glass of water. She’s almost outside when I go after her, except the ship picks that moment to roll again, and I’m too stiff and tipsy to compensate. I stumble against the counter and grab on to stay upright.
Fuck.
By the time I’m moving, she’s gone and the other patrons are pointedly looking away.
Fuck.
I slam my fist in the counter, getting a small amount of pleasure out of watching the others jump. Then I grab the glass of water she gave me and chug it all down, to the last drop. Even that gets me thinking of last night. Of sweat and sweet promises, all in the heat of the moment. Why can’t I hate her? I don’t want this heavy feeling in my chest. Maybe she doesn’t want to be stuck with me, but I sure as hell seem to be stuck with her.
Fuck.
Throwing the glass on the floor, I smile thinly at the loud crash as it shatters into a starburst of tiny shards. I get up again, my shoes crunching as I walk over the floor, my gaze straight forward, and this time I don’t stumble. But I don’t meet anyone’s gaze on the way out either.
Chapter 26: Angie
When I get back to the room, the skies are dark and there’s a slight patter of rain on the windows. Nothing big, but enough that I won’t be doing my moping out on the balcony. The fan’s blowing too much cool air now that the sun isn’t baking our room through the windows, so I shut it off. The only noise left is the dull hum of the engines.
The whole room reminds me of Gavin, but where else would I go? I can’t even take a nap without thinking about what happened in the bed. What a cruel twist of fate that the person who knows my body so well, doesn’t seem to know me at all. We fit so perfectly together, and now everything’s a mess.
I hate that he’s an asshole, and I hate how even now I’d forgive him if it meant feeling like we did last night again. Briefly, I consider taking one of the chairs and jamming it up against the door knob. If he can’t get in, I can’t be tempted to forgive him, but I don’t. It’s his room too, and even if he’s an asshole, I don’t have to be. I just want to.
We’re supposed to eat at the captain’s table again tonight, but I can’t. No way. I barely held it together at the bar, and I’m sure everyone on board who might care knows about our fight by now. If I have to play the happy wife, I’ll probably drive a fork through his leg before the main course shows up. The mental image of smiling at Captain Chuck while Gavin clutches his bleeding leg makes me snort humorlessly. No, Angie! Bad idea.
I’ll just get room service or something. Or sleep. Lie here and cry while I plan more ways to hurt Gavin. I don’t even know. For now I just stare at the ceiling, thinking about last night. There’s a fleck of paint missing. Ugh, noticing that feels like a pathetic new low.
LL Cool J shouts out from my purse, startling me out of my daydreaming. I almost don’t get it. I’m busy being miserable here in bed, and the phone is all
the way over there. It doesn’t stop though, so with a sigh, I get up on my elbows. I blow my bangs out of my face. Time for a trim. Just one more thing not going my way. Rolling to the edge of the bed and reaching over, I barely reach the fancy purse, grimacing when I remember who bought it for me.
Might as well get it over with. The suck is strong with me today. I tap the button and put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Angela! Where are you? And don’t give me that Cassie crap. She let the cat out of the bag.”
I get that she’s annoyed, but I’m an adult. She’s probably mostly hurt I lied. I suppose I’d be too. “Sorry, Mom. I’m...” I draw a deep breath. “I’m on a cruise.”
There’s silence for a long moment. “A cruise? How did you... Wait, did you take Herb’s tickets?”
“Yeah. I know I shouldn’t have, but it seemed such a shame to just throw them out.”
She tsks. “I thought so too, but you didn’t have to be sneaky about it. Why didn’t you just tell me?” Yup, she’s hurt. She’s using that disappointed Mom voice. Everyone’s mom has one, the one that makes you feel guilty no matter what you did. It’s actually been a while since I’ve heard it.
“Honestly? I thought you’d be mad. I mean, they weren’t ours to use.”
“Ours? Honey, who’re you there with?” There’s an edge in her voice, though I don’t know why. “I know it’s not Cassie, so don’t even try to lie.”
“I’m here with Gavin. He found out I was going and came along. His name is almost the same as Herb’s so they just figured we were you guys.” That’s the short version anyway.
Mom is quiet, but I can practically hear her thinking over the phone. “This is going to sound strange, honey, but did anything... odd happen? On the cruise I mean?”
Oh, no way. She knows?
I throw myself back on the bed, finding the missing paint spot on the ceiling while I decide how to answer. “You mean like, accidentally marrying my new stepbrother?”
She squeaks out a choking laugh. “Did—Did you guys go along with it?”
Oh God. My voice is tiny. “Yes.”
There’s a long silence, and I’m starting to panic. Then she sobs and my chin starts to quiver. Except it’s not a sob, it’s laughter. Like, can’t catch your breath, stomach aching laughter. It’s so loud it’s hurting my ears, and I hold the phone away, staring at it like it’s going to bite me. Now I know how Gavin felt the other day.
“Seriously, Mom?”
Then suddenly she stops, and I risk putting the phone close again. “I’m sorry!” She gasps for breath. “I know I should be mad, but I just wish I could’ve seen your faces when they... wait a minute. How far along with it did you go?”
My face gets so hot I can feel my phone stick against my cheek. “Well, here comes the bride, do you take this man, eating cake... dancing... You know, the works.” I can’t believe I told my mother I accidentally got married and she laughed at me!
“Mmhmm.” She hears the words I’m not saying too. The consummation. “Does this have anything to do with our other conversation? I can’t say I’m sorry to see Paul go, but rebounding with Gavin? Honey, I know he isn’t actually your brother, but that’s bound to get awkward.”
“Awkward?” Understatement of the year. “You could say that. Aren’t you more worried about the married part?”
“Did you sign anything?”
“No, at least I don’t think so. Unless Gavin did.” I try to remember, but I’m pretty sure we were whisked straight to the reception.
“If you didn’t, then there is no marriage. Even if you did, the license was in our names. You might give a lawyer somewhere a headache, but I think you’re in the clear,” she says gently. Just listening to her voice and getting it off my chest makes me feel so much better. Adult or not, sometimes I need my mom. “But back to you and Gavin. Is this serious?”
“Of course not!” But I wish it was, something I won’t admit even to her.
“I’m not surprised. He doesn’t worry me like that Paul character, but he looks like he’d charm the booties off the Thanksgiving turkey if you left them alone together. Handsome too.” She sighs. “Like father, like son. They apparently like us Wilson girls. Or did.”
“How do you know we argued?” Is it that obvious?
“Oh Honey, I didn’t. I was talking about Herb and me.” Suddenly all the humor is gone from her voice.
“Wait, what? What happened?” I can’t believe the same couple I saw the other night is already in trouble. No matter how I feel about how fast they’ve moved, I want it to work for Mom’s sake.
She sighs again, sounding exactly like I’ve been feeling the last couple hours. “Remember when I told you about the secret investor? Turns out it wasn’t Herb. I don’t know who it was, or why they did it, but now Herb thinks I used our relationship to talk someone in his company into giving me the money. But I have no idea who did it if it wasn’t him.”
“And now he thinks you’re just another gold digger.” They really are like father, like son. “Well, that’s about what Gavin thinks of me too, if it makes you feel any better.”
“The Caldwells are a pair of grade A bastards.”
My eyes go wide. She never swears. “Well, it’s their loss. Screw him. Screw them. Screw the whole Caldwell Enterprises and its paranoid owners.” Misery loves company, but company makes me feel better, too. We’ll get through this.
“Language, Angie.” Mom’s voice is stern.
“Seriously, Mom?”
She breaks into laughter. “Oh, God no. Fuck’em.”
“Mom!” Now I can count on two fingers the number of times I’ve heard her swear. I can’t believe she just said that.
“Angie? They’re breaking our hearts. It’s worth a little swearing. Love sucks, but we have each other and we’ve made it through far worse.” She sounds sad and resigned. I hate that someone has done that to her and I can’t even hug her. We’re both silent. I have no idea what to say, but then Mom speaks. “Hey, do you have TV? Wi-Fi?”
What? “Yeah, of course. This is a luxury liner, after all. All the comforts of home sweet mansion.” I put all the snootiness into my voice that I can while I put my nose in the air. I’m pretty sure that’s required, even when pretending. “Only the best champagne, the best caviar and every television channel on the planet.”
“Alright, then we’re doing girls’ night over the phone. Order up some popcorn from room service and I’ll find a movie to stream. Something good to moon and cry over. I’m just going to run and get mine popping.” There’s a thunk as she puts her phone on the table.
I plug my phone in so it won’t run out of juice, and call room service. They seem a bit confused by my order for root beer and popcorn, but they do their job. Fifteen minutes later, Mom and I are watching Love Story, which is like, so ancient Leo wasn’t even born, but I decide a young Ryan O’Neil more than makes up for it.
Girls’ night over the phone is completely ridiculous, but it does the trick. It’s not quite like being huddled up on the couch at home, but with our phones on speaker mode, it sort of works. The sound’s a little funny when it’s coming from two places at once, but it’s really about us hanging out the best we can. Reminding each other that there is life outside of the male ego. Who knew I needed to take a cruise for some mother-daughter time?
When the movie’s over, we call it a night. Next month’s phone bill is going to hurt, but she totally made me feel better. At least for a while. Hopefully I did the same for her.
Crawling into bed, I wonder what Gavin’s up to. Did he eat dinner with the Captain? It’s almost eleven, so they should be done by now. Is he coming back at all? The thought of him flirting with someone else, maybe even going back to her room, brings tears to my eyes but I refuse to cry. I throw a pillow and a blanket on the couch just in case. More to make it obvious I’m not sharing the bed than to be nice.
My eyelids droop as soon as my head hits the pillow. I didn’t do mu
ch today, but emotionally, it’s been exhausting. Our birth control mistake, the fight, the other fight, finding out the Caldwells just have an asshole gene in the family tree somewhere. There’s been a lot to take in.
If I think too hard my chest still aches, and the bed feels cold and empty, but the sound of rain pounding against the windows lulls me to sleep.
Chapter 27: Gavin
I cling to the rail of the front deck while the Golden Emperor of the Seas climbs one wave, then plunges over it, diving into the trough between swells, salty spray washing over me and threatening to knock me off my feet. Man versus nature. It’s raw and wild, and simpler than dealing with whatever the fuck is going on with me and Angie.
Rolling my head, I try to work the massive kink out of my neck. I should’ve ignored the bed stuff on the couch and climbed right in with her. Slid close behind her and made her mine again.
Except fuck me if I could do it when I saw her lying there. Sleeping, her face was relaxed and peaceful so I let her be. Look at me, actually containing my fucking urges, instead of fucking up. Again.
While we’re climbing the next wave, I risk letting go with one hand to brush hair out of my eyes. It’s plastered to my skin, soaked and sticking. We crest again, rushing down into the next valley. I scream into the storm, letting the wind and salty spray rip away my frustration.
Last night I almost didn’t go back. It would’ve been so easy to let some other gold-digger take me back to their room to fuck away my sorrows. Except I can’t stop thinking about her, and it drives me crazy. Her face when I accused her, her eyes when she walked away from me in the bar, her mouth stretched wide in ecstasy as my cock slid into her the first time.
She’s got a fucking free ride to Stanford, for Christ’s sake. And she actually wants to go. With that kind of drive, why the hell would she want a baby? And what does she need me for? It doesn’t fit, but it’s a lot easier to be suspicious than it is to open myself up to a lifetime of the shit my dad’s ex-wives throw at him.
