Page 40 of Transatlantic Terror Cruise

My secluded sweetheart,

Those private cabanas are like sizzling hot Vegas hotel rooms—except with better views and more creative possibilities. The butler service? Think of them as your personal “do not disturb” sign enforcers. One raised eyebrow from me, and they know to take the long way around. Repeatedly.

The curtains are quite sturdy (don’t ask how I know), and that daybed is engineered for more than just sunbathing. Although I do recommend saving the morevigorousactivities for after the lunch rush. The family pool is surprisingly close, and sound carries over the water.

Pro tip: Request cabana number four. It has the best privacy angles and a conveniently placed support beam. Plus, the service button is within arm’s reach—assuming your arms aren’t otherwise occupied.

Coupling in the cabana,

XOXO Elodie

P.S. If anyone asks why the cushions are rearranged, you were practicing your yoga. Very energetic yoga.

Trixie

It took aboutthree seconds for Becky Lee Darling and me to decide we were in the mood for something sweet, calorie-laden, and potentially drenched in chocolate. Bess and Nettie didn’t need their arms twisted either, so we moseyed on over to one of the ship’s most posh ice cream parlors.

And believe me, the Crème de la Crème Ice Cream Parlor lives up to its pretentious name. Dark mahogany wood lines the walls, and creamy marble countertops gleam under crystal chandeliers that probably cost more than my first car.

The display case stretches for days and is packed with more colorful flavors than I can count, each one looking as if it belongs in my stomach right this minute.

And the best part? They’re best known for serving their frozen fare on top of a bed of oversized waffles, complete with a mountain of whipped cream, berries, fudge, and sprinkles. This isn’t a quick bite by any means; it’s a culinary experience and a memory in the making.

Nettie groans hard as she presses her nose against the glass like a toddler who can’t control their excitement. “Now this is what Heaven looks like.”

“No, it’s not,” a bubbly female voice chirps from behind and I’m shocked to see Sassy floating beside me, glowing like the naughty pink cherub she is. I can’t help but make a face at the glib ghost because she serves as a stark reminder of what I’m missing out on with Ransom.

Sassy glides right up to the glass display next to Nettie. “Up in Paradise, there are so many more flavors that humans haven’t even invented yet. My favorite is lavender and cloudberry.”

Ooh,that does sound interesting.

Bess huffs as she ogles the offerings. “I have a feeling Heaven has fewer calories,” she mutters, already eyeing the double chocolate fudge. Ironic she would say so since neither she nor Nettie can hear a word that Sassy says. Although I suppose just about everyone associates this frozen heavenly treat with paradise.

We all decide to splurge and opt for the waffles in paradise sundae, which includes the requisite hot, fluffy waffles, a mountain of ice cream and whipped cream with brownie crumbles, chocolate cheesecake bites, and a blanket of rainbow sprinkles, because why stop at ice cream?

We each opt for two flavors. Nettie goes for rum raisin and butter pecan, declaring it a sophisticated combination.

Bess goes for the double chocolate fudge and Rocky Road, while I opt for salted caramel and chocolate lava.

Becky Lee opts for the strawberry cheesecake and something called Midnight Mocha Murder, which feels on point given the homicidal circumstances on the ship.

Each of our treats is served on a dinner plate with the requisite fresh warm waffles and we take our luscious loot to the outdoor patio where we’re welcomed with a perfect view of the Atlantic where the water sparkles in deep, delicious blues while stretching out to forever.

The sky is clear, the seagulls are circling, and the breeze is perfectly crisp on this sunny autumn day.

We’ve hardly settled into our seats when a pod of dolphins breaks the surface, playing in the ship’s wake.

“Oh!” Becky Lee fumbles for her phone. “Would you look at that?”

“Nature’s own welcoming committee,” Bess says, then frowns as her ice cream makes a bid for freedom via Sassy’s finger as she blatantly steals a bite.

“Mmm.” The hungry ghost moans. “Rocky Road is my weakness. I’d do just about anything for a scoop.”

Anything? I make a mental note of that for later.

Becky Lee gags as she stares out at the exact spot next to Bess where our resident Sassy specter is currently floating.

“I’d swear I just saw a scoop of ice cream sail away,” she says, slack-jawed, while pointing a finger right at the dairy thief among us.

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