With Every Breath (Sea Swept #2) (14 page)

“You should have told me,” he says, breath stirring my hair. “I wouldn’t have reprimanded you today.”

“Would you have made me wear the Kippy costume?” I joke.

“I thought you loved the Kippy costume,” he says in mock surprise, making me choke out a laugh. I pull back to fake-scowl at him, but at the look in his eyes I pause. His gaze is deep and steady, and pulls me in, makes me feel safe and cared for. Instead of sorrow and pain and guilt, I’m filled with the fuzziest of feelings.

As we stand there something changes, like West is drinking me in the same way that I am him. His muscles tighten ever so slightly, and then he lowers his lips to mine.
 

I pause for a second, surprised. His mouth is gentle, and feels so good. I kiss him back. It’s a slow, sweet kiss; and by the time West raises his head, I want more.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

Not this again.

“If you say that was a mistake, I’m going to go find a butter knife,” I threaten. Wait, what am I saying? Of course it was a mistake. If we hooked up again, our awkwardness level would ratchet up to catastrophic levels. I need to stay away from him, but I don’t know if I can.

West frowns at me. “I have to ask. Why a butter knife?”

“If you’re unlucky, you’ll find out.”

One side of his mouth quirks up, then falls back into place. “I just … need to stay focused on work right now,” West says. “Distractions are—”

“Look, let’s just drop this, okay?” I interrupt, my thoughts all jumbled. Kissing West feels so right, but I don’t do relationships, and I don’t want to destroy our tenuous friendship. And I really don’t want to hear how I’m just a mistake to him, an obstacle to his Miami promotion. “We’ll chalk it up to exhaustion, and pretend it never happened.”

West nods, then shoves his hands in his pockets.
 

“And this doesn’t change what we talked about earlier,” he says.
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“About work. I won’t let you slack off. I can’t.”
 

The words hang in the air, and all my fuzzy feelings die little fuzzy deaths.
 

“You think I let you kiss me because I want you to do me favors at work?” I ask, getting angry.

His eyes widen. “That’s not what I meant.”
 

“Then what did you mean?” West opens his mouth, but doesn’t seem to have an answer. “Wow. You know what? Go to hell.” Turning, I scoop up my laptop.

“Yasmin—”

“Forget it.” I wrap my robe more tightly around me and march out the door. Behind me, West mutters a curse.

Outside, I slam the door shut, then pause. Maybe he’ll come after me. But he doesn’t, and that makes me angrier. It’s midnight, so I could go back to my room, but I’m too keyed up to sleep. However, I’m still in my pajamas and robe.

Screw it. I’m going to the bar.

Chapter 13

Yasmin

Laptop under one arm, I slip into the crew bar. It’s smoky and rowdy, music thumping and walls echoing with shouts and laughter as usual. I probably look ridiculous in my pajamas, but you know what? I don’t care. Weaving through the crowd, I make my way toward the open deck beyond, where the night is warm and dark and relatively quiet. Far below me, the waves lap at the sides of the ship. The sound soothes my ears. I’m still so angry at West that I could spit, but out here I can breathe a little easier.

Scanning the deck for somewhere to sit, I spot Elise on a bench, cradling a glass as she stares out to sea. I walk over to her.

“You’re up late,” I say. Elise usually doesn’t frequent the bar for very long. She told me once before that she’s not really into the staff bar scene, especially since she’s worked on cruises for so long. I think she spends most nights in her room.
 

Elise blinks at the sound of my voice, then smiles up at me and taps her glass.

“Wanted a drink to unwind.” She cocks her head. “I thought you were working on photos tonight.”

“I got sexiled. And then … it’s this whole thing.” Sinking down on the bench beside her, I explain what happened with West today, except for the kiss. Elise doesn’t know that he and I hooked up a few weeks ago, but she has noticed that West and I hang out on port days, and that he’s helping me with my Sofia project.

“Aw, honey, I didn’t know it was the anniversary of Sofia’s passing,” Elise says when I’m done. She puts down her drink and gives me a hug. “I’m so sorry. That must be tough.”

“Yeah. It sucks.” Tears come to my eyes yet again. I miss Georgia and my parents and my friends, and I hadn’t realized how rough today would be without them. But Elise and I have gotten pretty close in the last few weeks, hanging out off-duty when I’m not on the photo prowl with West. She shares her issues of
Vogue
with me, and I share some of my heels—despite her being half a foot taller than me, we wear the same size shoe.

“It’ll get better,” Elise says, drawing back. Her voice is soft. “Nothing lasts forever, good or bad.”

I pause. It sort of sounds like Elise knows what she’s talking about.

She notices the question in my eyes. “I lost my parents when I was little,” she explains. “I never really knew them.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” All through Sofia’s decline, at least I had my mom and dad. I don’t know what to say to her.
 
“Did you have relatives who raised you?”

“Nope. Foster kid, through and through.” She doesn’t say it sadly, just in a matter-of-fact way. “Did you call your parents today?”

“Yeah, while we were in port.” They’d guilt-tripped me for being gone; the charity held a candlelight vigil in Sofia’s honor tonight. I know they miss me, and I miss them too, but I really didn’t want to stand in a crowd full of strangers and try to keep my shit together while holding an open flame.

Though I guess that’s what I’m doing here, sans fire.

“When I wanted to remember my parents, I’d go to the grocery store and look at the tulips in the floral section,” Elise says, smiling up at the dark sky. “That’s one of the only things I remember about my mom. She loved pink tulips.”

“Sofia wasn’t much for flowers,” I say. My sister received so many of them on a regular basis—from our relatives, our neighbors, our church—and especially when she was in the hospital. One time, Sofia confided to me that the more flowers she got, the sicker she felt. After she fell asleep that night, I threw all the vases into the trash. My mom got mad when she found out—we could have donated them, apparently, and we did afterwards—but it seemed to lift my sister’s spirits a little. “She loved cupcakes, though. We’d get the gourmet ones from a shop downtown. Her favorite was red velvet.”

Elise gives me an odd smile. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Her smile spreads.
 

“It’s fate. Come with me,” she says, and stands to head back inside.

I grab my laptop and follow, passing through the bar and the long I-95 corridor, then up a few decks to a section of the
Radiant Star
reserved for private parties. I rarely venture to this part of the ship because West and Charlie usually cover the photography at those events, but one of Elise’s roles with the hospitality department is to handle VIP guests.
 

Elise opens a door to a room decked out in pink crepe paper and shiny bows.
 
There’s a little square dance floor in the middle, dotted with half-deflated silver balloons. Round tables are set up at the edges of the room, and at the far wall a kitchenette holds a fridge and a countertop to lay out food.

Heading straight for the fridge, Elise opens the door with a flourish that would make Vanna White proud. She motions for me to come over. I peer inside, blinking in surprise at what I find.

“Red velvet cupcakes?” I say. Elise grins.
 

“Left over from a quinceañera party this afternoon. They won’t notice if we have a couple.”
 

I grab one for each of us as she pours us tall glasses of milk. We take a seat at a table; I peel off the wrapper, bite into the cupcake, and promptly moan in bliss. The icing is sweet and tangy, with just the right amount of cream cheese, while the red cake is soft and moist. Sofia definitely would have approved of these.

“This is perfect.” I give Elise a crumbly smile. “Thank you.”

She raises her cupcake. “To your sister.”
 

I raise mine too, and a sudden tear overflows my eyes and falls down my cheek. I swipe it away and focus on the sugar.

“So you told West that it was the one-year anniversary,” Elise says. “Then what?” My gaze flies up to hers in surprise, and she smiles. “There’s got to be more to the story, or you wouldn’t have shown up at the bar in your pajamas.”

I hesitate, then shrug casually. “He gave me a hug.” I’m not sure what else to say without bringing up the kiss.

“Oh?” Elise cocks her head, blue eyes dancing. “Is West a good hugger?”

Heat sweeps across my neck. “Sure, I guess.”

“Did he kiss you?”

“Um.” I take another bite of cupcake so my mouth is too full to answer. But I’m not fooling Elise, who laughs.

“That’s a yes. So the question is: did you kiss him back?”

I choke on my cupcake, and cough out crumbs. Elise starts to get up, but I hold up a hand to tell her I’m okay and manage to take a sip of milk. Finally I can talk again … but I still don’t know what to say. Elise studies me, then gives an apologetic grimace.

“Sorry, I’m being nosy,” she says. “I’ll stop.”

She is being nosy, I guess, but … God, I could really use someone to talk to. If Georgia were here, I’d have told her everything by now. And Elise has been so sweet, bringing me here. She’s probably my best friend on the ship.

“I did kiss him back,” I say finally.
 

“So why do you look so upset about it?” Elise asks gently.

“He said it was a mistake. That he can’t have any distractions from work right now.”

She smirks. “I bet you could change his mind.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t do relationships.”

“Ever?”

“Not since high school,” I admit.

“Why not?”
 

I hesitate, then put down my cupcake and wipe my mouth on a napkin.

“I’ve only had one boyfriend in my life. His name was Zach.” We went out all through the summer after our freshman year, and I lost my virginity to him after Homecoming when we were sophomores. “Sophia loved hearing about our dates, giggling as I told her the details. She said it was like a movie, and she was living vicariously through me.” My hands curl together on the table. “Then Zach and I got more serious. He said he loved me, and started leaving flowers for me on our front stoop.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Elise asks.

I shrug. “Sofia stopped being happy about it.” She got distant when I talked about Zach. Her smiles turned fake. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong—and I couldn’t get any explanation from her—so I read her diary. I know, how awful is that? But that’s how I found out that although Sofia was trying to be happy for me, she was torn up by jealousy that I had a boyfriend. It was something she figured she’d never have.
 

“Oh,” Elise says, and I glance up. Her blue eyes are soft with understanding. “I see. You felt guilty.”

My mouth twists in affirmation.

“The next time I saw Zach, I broke up with him. It hurt me so much to do that to him, but it hurt me even more to see Sofia so unhappy.”

“And you never got serious with anyone again?”

“Nope. Meaningless hookups only.” Maybe that’s screwed up, but I couldn’t handle the guilt of being the sister who gets to live a normal life. The sister who gets to live, period.

How did I ever think I could be someone’s psychologist when I’m so messed up?
 

“And now that she’s gone?” Elise asks. Her expression is measured, and I wonder if she’s judging me. I shake my head.

“I’m not trying to date or hook up with anyone right now. I want to focus on Sofia. On her memory.”

Elise purses her lips. “Yas, it sounds like you’re using your sister to avoid relationships.”

“Excuse me?” I draw myself up. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
 

“Just calling it like I see it. Wouldn’t Sofia have wanted you to be happy?” She waits for my nod. “Wouldn’t she have been sad if she knew she was what was keeping you from dating anyone?”

She’s right, of course. But … “I feel so guilty,” I admit miserably. “Sofia never got to have a boyfriend. She was kissed once, when she and another patient decided to make out. But they weren’t dating or anything. She never got to fall in love, and I feel like …” I trail off because my throat has gone painfully tight. “I guess I feel like if I let myself fall for anyone, I’m betraying her.”

“Meaningless hookups are okay, though?”

I blink at Elise’s bluntness, then shrug. “Sofia was more entertained than hurt by those stories.” God, she’d have loved my bell tower escapade, and that brings a sad smile to my lips. “But I’m trying to stop. I know it’s not healthy. I swore when I came on board that I was done with random hookups.” Yeah, that worked out well. But I don’t mention my slip-up to Elise, who taps the table with manicured fingernails.

“So your problem is that West wouldn’t be just a random hookup,” she says. “You hang out with him nearly every port day, and he’s helping you put together Sofia’s collage. You’re afraid you might fall for him.”
 

“I’m not falling for him.” The retort comes out too fast.
 

“It’d be okay if you did, though,” Elise says gently. “As long as that’s what you want.”

I don’t know what to say to that because, to be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I want. At first, yeah, West was just another fling. Especially since he didn’t want to be anything more. But we have more than that between us. On the surface he can say all the wrong things, particularly when he’s being Boss West, but when it counts, he’s there for me. He makes me feel better. Not just better—alive.
 

But me and West together? Would that even work?