Page 57 of Ship Happens

I shoot her a warning glance before turning to Harper. “Your Uber should arrive any minute. I’ve arranged for priority interview access when your assessment is published, if you want to?”

“That seems appropriate,” she agrees, her formal tone belied by the warmth in her eyes. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Cole.”

“Thepleasurewas mine, Dr. Bennett.”

We stand for a moment, the professional facade awkward between us. There’s so much I want to say, to ask, to promise—but not here, not with Alex watching and port staff bustling around us.

Harper solves the dilemma by offering her hand again. As I take it, she presses something small and firm into my palm—a folded piece of paper.

“Safe travels,” she says, releasing my hand and stepping back. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

“Count on it,” I reply, resisting the urge to open the note.

She nods once, then turns and walks toward the terminal exit.

Only when I’m in the privacy of my car, do I unfold the note. Written in Harper’s neat handwriting is a phone number—her personal cell, not her work contact—and beneath it, three words that make me smile.

Call me tonight.

“Productive professional exchange, huh?” Alex asks from the front passenger seat, turning to face me. “Want to tell me what really happened on that ship?”

“Not particularly,” I reply, tucking the note into my pocket.

“The board meeting is Wednesday. They’ll want a full briefing on her assessment and what to expect from Bennett’s report.”

“They’ll get it.”

“And if they ask about your relationship with her?”

I consider my answer. “I’ll tell them Dr. Bennett and I developed mutual respect through the process, and that I value her scientific expertise and integrity.”

“And the personal aspect?”

“Is personal, Alex. And not relevant to the board’s interests.” My tone makes it clear the subject is closed.

She nods slowly. “Just be careful, E. I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at her just now.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I say, though I’m not sure that’s true. Harper Bennett has upended my controlled life in ways I am not ready for.

“I hope so.” Alex turns back to her tablet. “For what it’s worth, I like her. She doesn’t take your shit, and you need more people like that in your life.”

I smile, thinking of champagne dripping down my suit and Harper’s uncompromising principles. “On that, we agree.”

At the airport, I get through security and boarding, my thoughts divided between the upcoming board meeting and the woman who’s changed my life in less than a week. My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number as I settle into my first-class seat.

Spotted your flight on the departure board. We’re on the same plane. Economy, row 27. The universe has a peculiar sense of humor.

I smile, typing.

A coincidence I’m tempted to interpret as cosmically significant. How’s the legroom in economy these days?

Nonexistent. The passenger in front of me has already reclined, and we haven’t even taken off.

An upgrade offer stands. No professional implications, just legroom considerations.

Her response takes longer this time.

Rain check on the upgrade. But I wouldn’t object to a drink being sent back once we’re airborne. For hydration only.

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