Page 91 of Ripple Effect
Alessio nods slowly, understanding my unspoken rebuff. Holding out his arm, an arm I really have the urge to ignore but courtesy demands I take, he says, “Of course, signora. I’m terribly sorry. Let us not delay further in getting you to your suite.”
Unspoken between us, the wordalonehovers, but no mention of it is made. Instead, Alessio continues to give me a preliminary tour of the ship on the way to my suite.
All I need are a few moments of blissful peace to just forget in the ripples of the sea. I’m not sure which it will be.
* * *
Many hours later,after we’ve set sail and participated in the mandatory evacuation drill, I’ve showered and changed into a sleeveless plum-colored wrap dress. My long hair is pulled back from my face to keep it out of my eyes as I walk along the deck admiring the setting sun.
I texted Josh earlier to let him know I got on board. He told me that Darcy had already peed twice on his floor and Syd had trampled through it while “helping me clean it up. You owe me more than you know.”
My response back was a bunch of laughing emojis. But just before I turned off my phone, I flipped to my text messages with Cal from the day before. The last two lines make me want to howl in pain while at the same time wish he was standing next to me.
You’re precious to me, baby.
I will always be yours, Libby. Just yours.
Now that I have our little one to think of, am I thinking more clearly? Or is it that time and distance is starting to cause the immediate anguish to fade. I start to send him a picture from the boat when I realize I can’t bring Cal here. I need this time to make sense of what remains of my heart. And I refuse to apologize for taking the steps I needed to for protecting myself. No one said heartbreak was fair. I found that out as my heart lay in pieces and I had to walk on them out the door.
What Cal hasn’t realized is that it wasn’t just his world that was upended when I asked for the divorce; mine was affected more. Because in the little that remains in the aftermath of all the betrayals, some of which I suspect I haven’t even learned of yet, I have to find the courage to love myself again.
And I fear that will never happen.
* * *
Dinner is traditional Spanish fare.While I long to taste the bounty of seafood, I wisely stay away and stick with the firewood chicken that is reminiscent of that cooked at Casa Botín according to our waiter. Its smoky, rich succulence falls off the bone and practically melts on my tongue. “Delicious,” I pronounce at first bite.
I do indulge in a few bites of the traditional family-style paella served. Avoiding the seafood itself, I concentrate on the rice that is, quite simply, like taking a bite of the sea. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve never had better,” I say to the McCallisters sitting to my left—an older couple from Texas celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
Camille, the wife, agrees. “I normally don’t get the chance to dine out like this. It’s divine.”
I take another bite and swallow, before responding. “Are there not many restaurants like this near where you live?”
Her husband, Linc, guffaws. “Honey, if it doesn’t involve steak, I normally don’t eat it. But Cam wanted to do a trip like this her whole life.” He lifts her hand to her lips. “Who was I to refuse?”
Ignoring the pang around my heart, I tell Camille, “You have a keeper.”
Conversation flows back and forth around the table easily. Much of the talk is about Funchal, our first port that we’ll reach in two days.
“Do you have any plans in port, Elizabeth?” Camille asks.
Swallowing a bite of crème caramel, I reply, “I plan on exploring the Worker’s Market and the Sacred Art Museum. I own a design firm at home, so I’m fascinated by art. I’d love to be able to find local pieces to bring back to incorporate for my clients.”
A gentleman, David, who’s traveling with his husband sitting across the table, asks, “Where’s home for you?” His British accent is absolutely droolworthy.
I smile. “Charleston, South Carolina.”
The two men look at each other and smile. “My sister used a firm there when she and her husband were redecorating their home in Atlanta. His company transferred them there, what was it, Matthew? Two years ago?” I shake my head. It would be too much of a coincidence if the lovely couple I took the job for ended up being related to the people across from me. “Diana said the firm did a fabulous job. Perhaps you’ve heard of them—Deja Vu?” He turns to his husband while I blush to the roots of my hair. “I always thought the name was clever. It’s memorable.”
I finally find my voice. “Thank you. My grandmother used to say she’d always have these moments of déjà vu, whether it was running into someone she felt like she knew or living an experience she’d already had. She said listening to those moments was how she knew to be successful in business. So, I chose the name in her honor.”
The two men gape at me. “It’s your firm,” David reiterates.
I nod.
He laughs. “Then if you weren’t taken through the antiquities room when you came on board, you must check it out. There’s plenty of items to tempt a designer of your caliber. But hands off the art nouveau vanity mirror. I have my eye on it.”
“I can’t promise anything. I haven’t seen it yet since I was taken through the jewels room.” My lip curls slightly.
