With Every Breath (Sea Swept #2) (19 page)

“Alright,” West says after a moment. He takes my hand, stroking my wrist gently. “So you think you were able to help Hannah?” he asks, and I relax.
 

After dinner West says he’ll help me finish my photo quota, so we stop by our cabins to grab our cameras, then walk up the I-95 hallway until we reach a circular stairwell that will take us up near the dining room. I precede him going up, and at the last step West grabs my hand to turn me around to face him. With me a step above him, we’re eye to eye.

“I’m sorry to be such a stickler about the photo count,” West says quietly. “I am. But I don’t want you getting fired, Yasmin. I don’t think I could handle being on this ship without you.”

His blue eyes are intent, and gorgeous even in the fluorescent lighting of the stairwell. I raise a hand to his jaw and kiss him, accepting the apology.

“Let’s go photograph some cones,” I say, and take his hand. I seriously doubt that one day coming under the minimum would get me fired, but West’s strong fingers twined with mine makes me smile as we head out into the passenger areas.

Chapter 18

Yasmin

“I have a favor to ask,” I say to West. It’s early morning, and West and I are curled up in his bed for a last few minutes before we have to get up and grab breakfast before work.

West’s naked beside me, and I run my hand across his chest and down his abs, because they’re like candy to a sugar addict. And when it comes to West, I’m definitely an addict. His muscles harden under my touch, and he reaches over to press his hand against the curve of my waist. He pulls me close to him.

“Yes, I’ll take a shower with you,” he says, very seriously. I smack his arm.

“That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“You want the day off so you can hang out with your patient?” he says, one brow rising. I am startled for a moment, and then duck my head. He’s right, of course. West knows me so well even though we’ve only been going out for two weeks, and that makes me feel … odd. A good odd, but it scares me how fast I’m falling for him.

“She’s not a patient, just a friend,” I say.

“She’s basically your patient.”

I sit up and make a face. “I can’t have patients; I’m not a doctor.”

“You sound pretty grumpy about that,” West observes.

“No, I …” I trail off, because he’s right. “I guess I am,” I say slowly. Spending time with Hannah, helping her, talking to her, has made me realize, or maybe remember, why I wanted to go into psychology in the first place. And I think I might finally be ready to face that. Of course, I’ve still got months on the boat, but afterwards, maybe I’ll go to grad school after all.
 

Then again, that means giving up professional photography. Sofia’s dream. I came out here to fulfill it for her, and the idea of stopping drenches me with guilt. But for the first time, I admit to myself that I’d regret not going to grad school.

West is still leaning back on the pillows, studying me. I almost tell him what I’m thinking, but then I pause. Where do we fit into each others’ lives, off the boat? It’s way too soon to be asking that kind of question. All I want to do now is …

I reach a hand under the covers. “Know what would cheer me up?” I ask, trying to hide my smile. West’s blue eyes gleam, and he drags me on top of him.

“I can think of a couple things to try,” he says.

~ ~ ~

That afternoon, we’re docked at the Star Heart private island. While Hannah’s parents splash around in the warm, gentle surf with Ben, I take Hannah—with her parents’ permission—on a photo excursion around the island. I teach her how to use the manual controls on her camera, which is a little better than a point-and-click but not much so. We take macro shots of shells and sea stars, and when we return in the late afternoon, Hannah’s parents are duly impressed. As the evening bonfire gets going, my phone chimes a reminder that West scheduled a photo team meeting for tonight, but just when I’m about to leave, Hannah’s mother and I get to chatting about my past, and Sofia, and what’s going on with Ben.
 

She looks like she could use a counselor herself, or at least a sympathetic ear, so I take her away from the crowd and listen over a couple margaritas. Again, I find myself wishing I had the experience to know what to say.

When I finally return to the
Radiant Star
, I’m beat, so I go directly to my cabin. I grab a change of clothes, grab my laptop, and head to West’s room.

West and I are nearly finished with the Sofia project. The individual photos look great, but all together … well, the collage looks sort of like a face. I think. The deadline for submissions is next week, so it’ll have to do. My idea didn’t turn out to be as awesome as I’d thought, but I hope Sofia would have appreciated the effort.
 

West is sitting at his tiny desk when I walk in. His chair turns, and he gives me an expressionless look.

“You missed the evening meeting,” he says.

I wince. “I know, I’m sorry. But I figured you could fill me in about the schedule later, and I was talking to Hannah and her parents. I finally got them to recognize that Hannah needs her own counseling sessions, and that it’ll result in a much better relationship between her and her brother. I didn’t want to rush off in the middle of the conversation before I got them to understand, you know?”

After a beat, West shrugs.
 

“It’s alright.”

There’s something more, and I wonder if he’s pissed at me. Then he smiles.

“I finished the project,” he says.
 

“Really?”

West nods. “I altered the light balance and color for the last few pictures, and got them all in place. You want to see it?”

“Yes!” I hop onto West’s lap, and he loops an arm around my waist as he presses a key to pull the collage up to fill the screen.

“Oh, wow,” I breathe after a moment. My attempt at arranging photographs in a collage to simulate Sofia’s face had turned out sort of choppy. West’s version, however, is amazing. He’s used more photos, a lot more, making them all smaller and thus the features of the overall face more defined. It’s definably Sofia staring back at me. He even captured the lilt of her smile, and the sparkle in her eye.
 

God, I miss her. I swallow a lump in my throat.

“West, it’s her,” I say quietly. “This is gorgeous.”

He grins. “Instead of making two collages like we’d talked about, I put all the photos—the ones by Sofia, plus the ones you took—in the same collage. Is that okay?”

“I love it. Thank you. I could never have made this on my own.”

He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Sure you could.”

“Not by the auction deadline.” Even with West’s help, I’d been worried about making it, especially since I was spending most of my free time—and too much of my work time—with Hannah on this cruise cycle.

“Glad you like it,” West says, and starts rubbing my back.

I tap the screen. “You know, you should do this for real.”

“Sensual massage?” His fingers slip down to the hem of my shirt, then under. I smile, but don’t let him distract me.

“Art. You’re talented, West. You could make a career of being a photographer.”

His hands pause on my waist.

“I’d like my career to be more secure than hoping someone will buy my pictures,” he says. I shake my head.

“You’d be wasted in a desk job, is all I’m saying.”

“Well, the desk job is what I want.” His voice has an edge now. I know I should stop talking, because we’ve had this conversation before and he’s made his opinion clear, but I can’t help myself.

“That’s because you don’t believe in yourself enough.” Turning, I sit sideways in his lap so I can see his face, meet his eyes. “But I believe in you for the both of us. You’re as talented as Sofia was, probably even more so, and you have the chance to do what she never could.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to,” he says, jaw tight. “Her dream isn’t my dream.”

That strikes me in a way I feel at my core, and I frown.
Her dream isn’t my dream.
Am I trying to push West into fulfilling Sofia’s dream for me? As if doing what she couldn’t would make her happy, would fix something. But there’s nothing to fix, because she’s gone. Pain slices through me, but there’s no avoiding it. Becoming a photographer, or not, won’t make Sofia happy, or bring her back, or make anything easier.
 

I feel my eyes fill, but then West cups my cheek with one hand, and his warm thumb brushes my cheek.

“Can we not fight over this?” he says gently.

I nod, turn back to the computer, and swallow my tears.

“I’ll send the digital file to get printed, and my parents can deliver it to the hospital for the auction,” I say. Staring at the collage, I feel my mouth twist.

“What is it?” West asks after a moment. I try to smile.

“I sort of wish I could be there, you know? The auction is to benefit the charity my parents started in Sofia’s name, and for a long time I didn’t think I could handle being there for it, but now, after working on the project, I feel like maybe I’m ready.” Ready to be around my parents and everyone else who misses Sofia. Ready to move on from my self-imposed limbo and pursue my own future, my own dream.
 

Ready to go home.

“Does your contract include a vacation in the middle?” West asks. “Sometimes they do.”

“Mine doesn’t, sadly.” I still have months to go with my contract. Oh well. I’ll make sure to be home for the auction next year.

“You really want to be there, don’t you?” West asks.

I shrug. “Georgia and Jace are back from their Europe trip, so they’ll be there. It’d be nice to see them. And I know my parents really missed me this summer. I feel kind of bad about that. I basically ran away.”

“You could always quit,” West says after a moment. He sounds reluctant. “End your contract early.”

I hesitate, because it’s tempting. But West would be here, and I don’t want to screw up what we have. The thought of being away from him for weeks, even months, is unbearable.

“No, it’s fine. There are worse places to be,” I say. “I love … being here with you.” Oh God, I nearly told West I loved him. It just started to roll off my tongue. “Besides, if I left, who would keep you from being seasick?” I add quickly, to cover.

West gives me a crooked smile, then pulls me toward him, and I don’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Chapter 19

West

I have to fire my girlfriend.
 

Shit.

The deadline Randall gave me is up, is past due actually, and I can’t wait any longer to make my decision. There’s not really a choice, though: of all my photographers, Yasmin’s the only one who’s been slacking off. With her attention to Hannah last week, she made it impossible for me to argue that she should stay while someone else should be fired.
 

Subjectively, I’d keep her by my side come hell or high water, because I know the ship will be empty without her. I could fire Richie instead, because I don’t really like him, and Yasmin and I could have several more months together before anything has to change.

Objectively, however, despite his complaining Richie works hard, meets his objectives, and is an asset to the team. Plus, he cares more about this job than Yasmin does. And he hasn’t been blowing off meetings to counsel a passenger and her family.

I’m annoyed with Yasmin about the Hannah situation, for putting me in this position, but honestly, I get it. Yasmin cares about people, not about the bottom line. It’s something I like about her. She’s worked hard at this job, but if it came down to it, she’d happily be fired if it meant she had a chance to help someone else.

And unfortunately, it has come down to it. I’d almost thought I’d be able to cover for her, until she missed the meeting a couple days ago. That meeting had a surprise visitor: the Hotel Director. Randall had stopped in, he said, just to chat with the photography department. What he meant, to my ears at least, was that he was evaluating my leadership in person. He hadn’t missed the fact that I was conspicuously missing an employee.

“Look, it’s for the best,” I say, talking to my tiny bathroom mirror as I wipe shaving cream off my jaw. Yasmin spent the night as usual, but is now off at her own cabin getting ready for the day. “After all, you want to be home with your family, not here. I want you here, obviously, but it’s selfish of me to want you to stay when you want to be with your family. You tried to hide it, but I know you, Yasmin. You want off the ship. If you leave now, you can make the auction, and start grad school only a semester late.” I take a deep breath. “And if I get this promotion … Miami’s not so far away. We can still be together.”

At that I falter, because it’s the weak spot in my plan. Here on the ship, I know where Yasmin and I stand. We haven’t talked about it specifically, but I’ve made it clear I don’t want anyone else on board, that it’s only her. And I know she feels the same. I know she likes spending time with me, because I understand about her sister, and because of our photography hikes. And because of how she responds to me between the sheets … or wherever else we happen to be.

But that is on board. Life is different here; everything is compressed, we live in such tight quarters with our shipmates, and spend all our work and free time together. Hell, Yasmin is already leaving a hairbrush and makeup here. If I wasn’t about to fire her, I’d be cleaning out one of my precious few drawers to give her more room. It’s fast, but it feels right. She makes me feel like I’m on solid ground, even when the ship weaves underfoot.

Once Yasmin is off the
Radiant Star
, though, will she even want to be with me? She’ll be back around the people she loves, who love her. She won’t need me anymore. She’ll go to grad school, surrounded by educated guys, guys who are on her level. Guys who are pursuing advanced degrees, not still dreaming of a bachelor’s.

Guys who haven’t fired her.

“Shit,” I say, and glance at the photo taped to the wall next to the mirror. It’s the one I took of Yasmin in the bell tower, with the gorgeous Mexican countryside in the background. In the foreground, Yasmin laughs, one hand resting on the giant weathered bell, her eyes alight. I grip the porcelain sink with both hands and lean forward. “It sucks,” I tell the photo. “It’s too soon to ask for a long-distance thing. I know that. But you’ve got to understand, right?”