Page 16 of Embracing the Change

Cadence had always greeted each day with the energy of youth and the enthusiasm of a voyager, so perhaps it wasn’t that odd.

I made the panorama windows of the forward lounge, peeked inside, and I saw two things at once.

The lounge was a sublime mix of pearl-gray velvet, tufted-based, low, gold-marble-topped tables, sumptuous carpeting and a trio of dreamy cream curved couches adorned with gold, gray and cerulean toss pillows. A wide, circular, utterly divine crystal light installation adorned the ceiling above this conflagration of gorgeousness. There was a bar with cerulean velvet bucket seat stools at one side of the back of the space, and a table with four cerulean velvet chairs at the other side.

And Jamie was standing at the port windows, looking out at the city, holding, not a flute of champagne, but an old-fashioned glass filled with what I knew was his preferred bourbon and branch, rocks.

He was wearing a white button down, untucked, and gray-blue casual trousers, and even in such casual wear, he looked resplendent.

However, only Jamie was in there.

Were the others in their cabins?

My first inclination was to return to the girls and request directions to my own cabin in order to do some freshening up I did not need to do.

This changed when Jamie sensed me standing there, and he turned to look at me.

Upon seeing me, his mouth tightened.

So that was how it was going to be.

At witnessing his response, my mind made itself up, and I moved to the opened door to the lounge and sauntered through.

“Jamie,” I greeted frostily.

“Nora,” he returned stonily. His gaze moved over me. “Nice frock.”

That blow was so low, I wanted to throw my charming, woven leather clutch at him.

This was because, when we were what we’d been, he’d tease me relentlessly about my extreme reverence of fashion, intermingling this with my devotion to shopping.

I didn’t reply to his comment.

I noted, “I was told there’s champagne?”

“I’ll pour you a glass,” he murmured, ever the gentleman (damn him), and beginning to turn toward the bar.

“As you know, Jamie, I’m perfectly capable of pouring my own champagne.”

He stopped dead, scowled at me, but inclined his head.

I tossed my bag on one of the couches and moved to the bar, on which was an opened bottle of champagne, chilling in a bucket, curiously with only two flutes sitting beside it.

I was finishing my chore, wondering where in the hell everyone was, when Jamie made his approach.

“We should take this opportunity of being alone to come to some sort of truce for the sake of this holiday,” he stated.

“Rest assured, I’ll act in a civilized manner.”

His face assumed a disbelieving expression before he returned, “Nora, I know you, so I can not rest in that assurance.”

I felt my eyes widen. “I beg your pardon.”

“You’re all about drama.”

He was correct, I was, when drama was appropriate, that being when it was fun or made a point.

He was very incorrect when that drama might negatively affect people I loved.

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