Page 73 of Caribbean Crush

Our guide tries again to engage with me on the way back in.

“Want to steer the boat?” he asks, all lopsided grin and boyish charm.

I’ll bet that works really well for him. He’s probably pulled dozens of tourists with that same exact line. I’m not in danger of falling for him, though, so I shrug and stand. “Sure, why not?”

Because I’ll probably never get another chance to steer a boat through the crystal clear turquoise waters surrounding Saint Thomas, so I might as well go for it.

“You’re a natural,” he says, sidling up behind me, a little too close. “Do you have plans la—”

“Not interested,” I say quickly, mildly, like I don’t mind at all that he’s asked, but I’m not willing to go down that road even a tiny bit.

He nods, unbothered. “Roger that. Would you mind letting me take over again, then?” he says, edging me away from the wheel. “You’re steering us in circles, actually.”

Chapter Nineteen

PHILLIP

On Sunday, the first day of this cruise, if you told me Vivienne was going to show up unannounced on Saint Thomas, I would have breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She’s come to her senses. Finally. Vivienne and Phillip, together forever. We’d move back into my place in New York City. We would reunite our separated household items. I’d get my beloved air fryer back. Then we’d discuss how best to tell our friends and family that we were going to be mature and put the past behind us to begin anew, afresh, and better than ever.

Now, though?

Now?

It felt like I was having a heart attack when I read Vivienne’s text last night.

It was simple and to the point.

Look out on the pier ...

There she was, standing alongside her best friend. They saw me when I walked out onto the balcony, and they waved wildly.

I had no choice but to walk down to the gangway and retrieve them.

“What are you doing here?” was the first dumb thing out of my mouth, and I said it slightly accusatorially, as if I were annoyed to see Vivienne. As if she had no right to be here.

For a fleeting moment, shock and hurt flashed across her face, but then her expression cooled, tempered, eased as she tucked those ugly emotions deep under a mask of peaceful compliance. That’s the thing about Vivienne. She’s the most agreeable person I’ve ever met.

I’m not so far removed from our relationship that I don’t remember the ease of having a partner like her. Nothing was ever important enough to warrant a real negative emotion. Crying? Screaming? Absolutely not. That was uncouth, simply not done.

I never had to worry if she’d be in a bad mood when I got home from work late or if she’d be annoyed when I wanted to get Italian takeout for the second time in one week. Whatever I wanted was what she wanted. I’d tried to bring up her military-like compliance with her once, gently, of course. How do you look someone squarely in the eye and ask them why they have no backbone? Why she seemed so eager to mirror the likes and desires of the people around her rather than promote her own?

I see clearly now what was so appealing about her.

For a man who enjoys simplicity and control—holy shit, Vivienne is a veritable gold mine! I doubt I ever would have worked up the courage to leave her.

It was a shocking revelation to have, especially as I stared at her then, on the pier in Saint Thomas, in front of her friend.

“I came to congratulate you in person!” Vivienne said, coming forward to kiss me once on each cheek with practiced precision. Thank god she chose that route. Had she gone in to kiss me on the mouth, I’m not sure I would have been able to think quickly enough to turn away. My brain seemed to still not be firing on all cylinders, not since Casey left my suite, oh ... all of fifteen minutes before.

Talk about whiplash.

I frowned as Vivienne stepped back. “You could have just called and saved yourself the trip. You know they have these newfangled things called telephones.”

She giggled and looked to her friend, Mira—the carbon copy of her in every way. In fact, in the early days of dating, I referred to her in my head as Vivienne Junior, and it stuck. It’s eerie, actually, how similarly they dress and act. Both with their prim smiles and perfect postures, the same designer handbags slung over their shoulders. Matching Cartier watches. Chanel glasses perched on top of their shiny jet-black hair.

“Well, I thought this would be much better!” Vivienne added with a chipper shimmy to her shoulders. “I really wanted to show you how much I care.”

I blinked and stared at her, wondering if I’d missed something.

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