Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to do that for us,” Slade tells him.
“I know. But I want to. You’ve always done so much for me,” he says. “I’m just happy for you guys, is all.”
I shift, uncomfortable as I steal a glance at my husband, searching for a sign that he’s on my side, only there’s something in his eyes that makes me think he’s actually considering this. I’m sure if I put my foot down, he’d back me up, but with everything going so well lately, I don’t want to rock the proverbial boat over a … boat.
“What do you think?” Slade asks me, his tone tinged with genuine consideration. “Could be something fun to do this weekend. It’s not like we have plans. And he’s right—we haven’t taken a honeymoon.”
I laugh. “No offense, Oliver, but a romantic getaway with you sleeping in the next room isn’t exactly my idea of a honeymoon.”
“You won’t even know I’m there.” Oliver places a hand over his heart, sitting straight. “Swear on my life. It’ll be like it’s just the two of you, the open sea, and all the first class luxury you can imagine. Top shelf drinks, cashmere linens …”
I bite my lip, contemplating as he rattles off a list of amenities. I’m still not sold. The idea of being on the open water doesn’t appeal to me no matter how many perks he throws in, though I have been feeling cooped up lately and a change of scenery might be nice.
“Look,” Oliver says, cocking his head towards me and resting his arm on the back of the couch. “I just want to give you two a chance to create some beautiful memories. And also I want to prove to you that you’re wrong about boats. They’re safe and fun and you’re missing out. And if at any point, you want to come back to shore, just say the word and we’ll go, no questions asked.”
“How far away will we be?” I ask.
“Three hours, max,” he says.
Glancing at Slade, I lift my brows.
“I think it could be fun,” he says. “If all we have to do is show up, I mean …”
I sigh, not wanting to be the cog in the wheel. “You’re sure it’s safe?”
Slade frowns, “Do you honestly think I’d put us in any kind of danger?”
“Feel free to check out my safety ratings and inspection records,” Oliver says. “If I were some slime bag renting out dilapidated scows, do you think I’d still be in business? Hell, I wouldn’t even be insurable.”
I hate this idea. I do. But if Slade comes, maybe it won’t be so bad.
“Fine,” I say. “But only if there’s an endless supply of seasickness tablets on board and you show me how to use all the safety equipment.”
“I’ll give you the full rundown before we depart,” Oliver promises. “We won’t leave until you feel confident about everything.”
Maybe I’m overreacting, but growing up off the coast of Maine, you hear so many boating horror stories—that compounded with my grandfather’s freak accident gives me pause.
Oliver rubs his hands together, grinning from ear to ear. I’m pretty sure we just made this man’s entire year.
“All right,” he says, “so why don’t you two meet me at the Gas Lantern Marina Friday, slip number fourteen, say around noon? I’ll have you back by Sunday.” Rising, he turns to me, “It gets a little cold on the water at night, so pack some sweaters.”
I salute him. “Yes, First Officer Oliver.”
“It’s actually Captain Oliver,” he corrects me.
Slade rolls his eyes.
“Okay, I’m out. I’ve got some things to line up for our trip,” Oliver says. “You two lovebirds get plenty of rest and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“I hope I don’t regret this,” I tell Slade when he’s gone.
My husband tugs me into his lap, runs his fingers through my hair, and leans in to kiss me. “I thought he’d never leave.”
“Wait, did you only agree to this whole yacht thing because you wanted Oliver to leave?” I ask.
“No …”
I squint. “Mm hm.”
Slade chuckles. “No, seriously. I didn’t. I think it’ll be a nice little weekend getaway. And maybe it won’t be the worst thing for you to get over your fear of boats, especially living here.”
Dozens of old stories from back home flick through my mind like microfiche at a library.
“If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to go,” he says, and with his words the excitement that was radiating off of him a few moments ago grows dim.
“We’ll go,” I say. I don’t want to, but I’ll do it for him.
If Slade can get over his fear of opening up, I can get over my fear of open water.
34
Campbell
The soft glow from the television illuminates the family room as the dramatic antics of the Below Deck crew unfolds on the screen. Leaning back into the plush sofa, I snap off another piece of strawberry Twizzler while Oliver makes some comment about the technicalities of some engine.