Page 34 of The Last Sunrise

I impatiently make my way through the people leisurely boarding. Their voices in every language possible. I recognize French, English, and of course Spanish. There are anywhere from twenty to thirty people on the boat, fortunately allowingme to find myself a little private corner on the lower deck. Too big of a boat for such a small number of people, which is likely why my mother chose it. A full buffet of food is available; the smoke coming from the fresh paella being cooked makes my mouth water. Fresh appetizers and seafood are being carried around on little platters by servers dressed in crisp white shirts and black bow ties. Champagne flutes, a full bar, you name it, it’s on this yacht. I can’t help but think back to Julián’s distaste for this level of luxury, and I find myself agreeing with him as a woman carrying a Chanel purse tries to avoid the steam from the food touching her bag. The look of disgust on her face makes me feel out of place and out of touch with reality. These people aren’t my type of people, yet technically they are.

With a thank-you, I take a glass of wine and sling it back, earning an eye roll from an older couple whose money I can smell from here. His watch alone costs more than most people’s salary in a year; her Hermès sandals can’t be comfortable enough to justify the thousand-dollar price tag. Instead of doing a price breakdown of the elitists on the yacht, I try to focus on the water, the ever-changing movements, the dips and divots, the smell of the salty air, as we depart from the dock. Music begins to play, a light piano tune, and I close my eyes, letting the wind caress my face as a group of seagulls speak to one another above me.

“Ry!” I snap my eyes open.

I swear I heard someone yell my name, but that can’t be possible. I look around, feeling silly. Who the hell would know my name here? Not a soul. Everyone is doing their own thing: two couples are slow dancing, people are chatting, eating, drinking. Everyone is having a great time, except me.

I reach my hand over the edge, wishing I were ten feet closer to the water and could touch it. Julián was right, of course: I’m too far removed from the water to embrace it.

“Ry!” I hear the voice again, louder this time.

Julián?

My mind must be playing tricks on me, a mirage created by the longing to see him again. I rest my cheek on my arm, sighing and look out into the water. There’s a medium-sized fishing vessel about one hundred feet away, with a man standing in the center, waving his arms.It is him!

“Julián!” I shout, jumping up in excitement.

“Ry!” he yells back, creating whispers and not so casual stares from the snooty crowd.

I wasn’t imagining it after all. Julián is somehow here, in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, coming to my rescue.

Chapter Thirteen

Julián steers his fishing boat closer to where I’m standing on the deck and I look down and around, wishing I could just jump from this yacht and onto his, but it’s too high.

“You look bored out of your mind; I came to save you!” he yells.

Man, the confidence of this guy. He doesn’t give a shit if everyone is staring at him or what they might think of him for interrupting their peaceful, luxurious experience.

“I am bored to death!” I admit, calling down to him.

He waves his hand in the air, gesturing to me to come to him. It’s at least a twenty-foot drop, and not that I’m scared of heights, but what would happen if I just leaped off the boat? Will the staff call for help? Am I allowed to just leave? It’s a paid excursion and I’m an adult, so I guess so, but I find myself second-guessing the permission to do what I want.

“I’ll come to you and bring you to mine?” Julián’s voice travels easily to me.

He pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it behind him onto his boat, and dives into the water. My heart pounds. As I watch him swim toward the yacht, I follow him to where he’s headed,keeping my eyes on him and not the strangers staring at me. When I reach the front of the yacht, there’s a staircase, and Julián is speaking to one of the staff. I can tell by the friendly tone and smiles that they know each other. Julián waves for me to come into the water using the stairs. My bag is the only problem. My cell phone and most of the stuff in my bag can’t get wet. Including my brand-new copy of a Kennedy Ryan book I haven’t finished.

“My purse! I can’t swim with it. It can’t get wet!”

The scene plays out like we’re in a movie, a dramatic grand gesture during the third act of a Kate Hudson rom-com. He’s the lead, with wet, slicked-back hair, enough confidence to sink this massive yacht, enough charm to make us all blush and squirm in our seats. Julián reaches for the metal bar on the side of the stairs and pulls himself up. His muscular chest immediately draws my attention, and that of the women around us. I have the urge to cover their eyes.

“Hand it to me. I can hold it up until we get to my boat.” He is a fisherman after all, so I take my outfit off, leaving just my swimsuit on and hand my purse to him, trusting that.

“Ugh, how romantic,” I hear a woman’s voice comment behind me.

I straighten my spine.Yeah it isromantic and it’s forme, and I deserve this. Every woman deserves to have an over-the-top romantic gesture once in their life, and this is my one. So, hell or high water, I’m not going to let it pass me by. Without looking back, I step down the staircase and dive into the water to join him. The warmth of the water washes over me as I go under, my hair slicking back as I pop my head up. Julián wraps one hand around my waist, making me dizzy in the mostblissful way. I can feel the slight current of his legs kicking under us.

“I can swim, you know,” I tell him, not able to keep the enormous grin off my face.

He pulls me closer to his bare chest. “Yeah, I know.”

As promised, not even a drop of water touches my bag as he gently places it inside the body of his boat. He climbs on first, using nothing except his body weight to lift himself. I look for stairs but don’t see any.

He notices my hesitation.

“This isn’t a yacht, cariño.” His hand reaches for mine and he yanks me, fully lifting me into his arms and gently placing me onto my feet.

My god, he’s strong.

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