“I was saving it for the beach.”
“Damn, Rubes.” Panic filled Emily as she examined more of her skin. “We need to get out of the sun.”
“Aw, but it’s so nice out here.” Ruby wrapped a towel around her neck and chest to cover what was left exposed to the sun.
“You’re going to sweat in all of that. Come on, let’s go back to the room.” Emily stood and assessed her arms for a second time. Maybe they weren’t as red as they appeared out here in the sun?
Ruby dropped the two towels she’d been using as a sun shield and drank the last sip of her drink.
“Maybe we can stop at one of the stores to see if they sell aloe or some cream.” Emily stepped into her shorts and then slipped her feet into her sandals. “Are you feeling the burn already?”
Ruby held her arms out from her sides. “I think so.” It was hard to tell if Ruby’s face was red and splotchy from sunburn or because she was two seconds away from crying. “This is the worst revenge honeymoon I can think of.”
Emily winced. “It’ll be okay, I swear. You head back to the cabin, and I’ll buy out every sunburn remedy available. One of them has to work, right?”
A forty-something woman, wearing massive insect-eye sunglasses and a matronly one-piece with a skirt and conservative neckline, leaned toward them. “Is it true you aren’t lesbians?” she whispered.
The woman’s new spouse hid his face behind a Louis L’amour novel.
First, who would dare ask such a question in this day and age? Second, how did she know? Should she have gotten more comfortable with the idea of kissing her friend on the lips?
She shuddered at the thought. Maybe someone else could do it. But her? Emily Small? Who almost couldn’t let her first sex partner see her naked? Even though the room was pitch dark, and he couldn’t hardly see anything at all, and he mistook her upper arm for her thigh? And kissed her ear instead of her mouth?
“Why would you ask such a thing?” Ruby spouted off. But her face revealed the panic. Their story was unraveling.
“Your friend said something to the server.” The woman shrugged. “I thought it was weird. Who would want to come on a honeymoon cruise if they weren’t on a honeymoon? I mean, that’s just a dumb idea.”
Emily froze.
Ruby sniffed. “Emily? Did you tell the server we weren’t married?” Her beautiful eyes filled with tears.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
No no no no no!
She was the worst best friend. The most awful best friend. And margaritas were the devil’s drink. How was she going to fix this?
* * *
Emily and Ruby lay side by side on the king-sized bed in silence. Both of them were dressed only their underwear and coated in white sunburn relief cream. Thirty minutes had passed since the jilted bride had stopped sniffling and finished wiping tears off her Pepto Bismol tinted face.
“Ruby,” whispered Emily. “I’m sorry. I messed up.” Her limbs felt heavy. She would do anything to make it up to her friend. Anything at all.
Ruby rubbed at her nose with the palm of her hand to avoid the cream. “Why would you tell some random person about my wedding? I don’t understand. That was so humiliating.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Emily stared up at the ceiling and counted the minuscule cracks in the white paint. “It was that stupid margarita. I wasn’t thinking, and then it popped out and I couldn’t take it back.”
“Now the whole ship will know.” Ruby sniffed. “How can I even show my face out there? And we have eight more days on this ship. Eight. That’s forever.”
“More like a week,” mumbled Emily.
“I wish I’d never come on this cruise.” Ruby smacked her palm on the mattress. “Why did you talk me into it?”
Emily’s chest tightened. The hurt in Ruby’s voice cut her to the quick. “Tyler sucks, and I didn’t want you to spend one damn minute thinking about him. He doesn’t deserve you, Rubes.”
“I loved him, Em.”
“I know.”