Page 57 of Passing Ships

Me: Yep. Hot pink.

Avie: God love him. I’m on my way with doughnuts and bagels.

Me: See you soon.

I walk over and tap him on the shoulder. He grunts and rolls onto his back and blinks up at me.

“Good morning,” I whisper. “You can go climb in your bed now if you want.”

He looks over at Leia, who is now spread-eagle on her belly, then back at me.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“Almost eight. Avie’s on her way. She’s bringing breakfast.”

He sits up and brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Sleeping on the floor’s not that much fun when you’re an adult, huh?” I muse.

“You’ve never crammed yourself in a stiff rack in the berthing area of a ship. This is nothing.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I say as I offer him my hand and help pull him to his feet.

Leia stirs as he carefully steps over her, but she doesn’t open her eyes.

“I’ll make coffee,” he says.

“In that case, I’m going to hop in the shower.”

“Go ahead. I’ll listen for Avie,” he says.

I hurry to my bathroom and start the shower. The hot water feels amazing on my stiff limbs. Then, I slip on my red bikini and gauzy white cover-up and pull my damp hair into a knot on top of my head.

I hear Avie’s voice and follow it to find her and Lennon seated on the island, chatting over coffee and bagels.

“I hope you brought your bathing suit because after a day shut in because of rain, I’m ready for some vitamin D,” I say as I snatch a chocolate glaze from the doughnut box on the counter.

“I didn’t, but I think Leia and I both have one in the closet here,” she says.

“Perfect.”

“What are your plans today?” she asks Lennon.

“No idea. I usually just wait to see who calls me first and tells me where I need to be and who’s picking me up,” he says.

“Well, Sebastian only has one charter today, so I’ll send him and message and tell him to come play in the ocean with his brother and daughter,” she suggests.

“Sounds good to me.”

When Leia wakes, she sits in Avie’s lap and recounts our night in vivid detail as she eats a pink-frosted doughnut covered in sprinkles.

“It was like camping,” she says, describing the three of us sleeping on the living room floor.

“Not quite like camping,” Lennon muses.

“That’s right. It was way better than nasty camping,” I quip.

His eyes come to me.

---