Page 41 of Embracing the Change

He was right.

That one had a direct view into the aft lounge, which was smaller, more intimate, but no less well-appointed than the forward lounge.

Even so, it wasn’t the peaceful vision of sun glinting off the sea with land in the distance lazily floating by.

I shifted so I would be seated right next to Jamie (damn him).

I poured my coffee, and due to habit, therefore, without thinking, refreshed his (he liked his coffee) as he filled his plate and folded down beside me.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured.

It hit me why he was expressing gratitude, and I could have kicked myself for personally delivering the hit that we shared many intimacies, even if we weren’t ever actually going to be intimate.

I forked into a sliver of cantaloupe and remarked, “You do know what ‘vacation’ means?”

“I’ll shut it down now that you’re up,” he replied.

I put the melon in my mouth and said no more on the subject of his work, something he enjoyed, so, frankly, I wasn’t surprised he’d brought some on vacation.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

I did.

Sumptuous fare, good wine and Jamie being charming as he always was, and last night was no exception, did that to me.

“I’m refreshed,” I said by way of answer.

“Good,” he murmured. Then he shared, “I spoke with the captain, and I was correct. There are no stops scheduled for this tour.”

I looked to him. “Don’t they have to refuel?”

Jamie speared some scrambled eggs. “Apparently, they’re stocked up. Though, my guess is, if they have to stop to do anything, they’ve planned to do it when we’re asleep, on order of my devious, and annoyingly brilliant, daughter-in-law.”

“Marvelous,” I drawled.

The tines of his fork pierced a strawberry as he stated, “I took a tour of the ship. There’s a small screening room, and they have a great library of films and Internet access, so we can watch anything we want.”

At least there was that.

Jamie carried on. “The captain also said, whenever we wish, he can drop anchor, and we can swim in the ocean.”

It was mid-July. But considering, at the pace we were going, the shoreline sliding by us was probably still New Jersey (slight exaggeration, but maybe not), I was Nora Ellington. And as such, I was not about to entertain swimming along the Jersey shore.

Or any shore for that matter.

Swimming was to be done in swimming pools.

Oceans were about beaches where you could sit atop a lounger under a cabana, sip a fruity cocktail and read a book. Not swim.

Fighting a delicate shiver at the very thought, I glanced into the beyond, where there were some plush couches under the overhang where we were seated, and beyond that, there was a small, zero-edge pool that looked more like a jacuzzi.

“When we’re not in the jacuzzi, which is heated, that is.” Jamie read the direction of my gaze. “The captain told me that in case we wanted to get into the sea.”

“Ah,” I said, my eyes still trained to the waters even as I placed a bite of eggs in my mouth, not about to share my thoughts on getting into the sea. Because I knew if I did, Jamie would tease me, and I loved it when he teased me, so I wasn’t ready to suffer that so early in our enforced holiday.

“Also talked to the steward.”

I turned to my busy-morning companion.

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