Page 7 of Love on Deck

“Kevin, Lucas, and Jack,” Cara said, rummaging through her bag and pulling out different dress options.

I swung my attention to my sister. The guilt splashed over her pinking cheeks was proof that I was not going to like what I was about to hear. “We were thinking of going out tonight!” she said. “Wouldn’t that be fun? Kev and I don’t want traditional bachelor/bachelorette parties, so we figured we would combine them. What do you think?”

I thought that I had—as the maid of honor—been granted full authority over this evening and had proceeded to plan the spa night my sister specifically requested. A night out in Miami sounded awful.

What did one even wear to go clubbing? That was so not my scene.

But Amelia’s eyebrows were drawn together in worry, and it was my job to keep those eyebrows perfectly in line. I sucked in a breath, ready to lie. “Oh, of course! So much fun!” There was that enthusiasm. So! Many! Exclamation points!

Amelia’s shoulders deflated in a relieved exhale. “Good. You had me worried. You’ve already put so much effort into this.” She swept her hand toward the chocolate-covered strawberries and face masks.

I reached for the remote to power off the TV before she noticed that too. “No, not at all. You’re the bride. You’ll only get married once.”

“Hopefully,” Sydney muttered.

Cara laughed and slapped her on the arm.

“I mean, you never know!” Sydney said, flipping back her long, black hair.

Cara hushed her, and Amelia laughed lightly, but it was still such a weird thing to say. I really wished whatever reconciliation that had permitted Sydney on the trip hadn’t happened so it could still have been just the three of us tonight. Sydney was such a wildcard, and this wedding would be difficult enough for Amelia to manage emotionally. It was sure to bring up the grief of not having either of our parents or our grandma here, all three of whom had died far earlier than they should have.

“You know,” Amelia said gently, “if you’d rather stay in, Lauren, that’s fine. I’m not even getting married tomorrow. We could do our pre-wedding spa night on the boat at an actual spa. This can just be going out for fun.”

Hope curled into my chest like a beacon of sunlight. “I can’t stay in, Ames. I’m here for you.”

“But you hate going out like this. It’s really fine.” She widened her eyes, staring at me like she could see through my face. “I mean it. We’ll be spending the entire week together.”

I wouldn’t read too much into her assurances, because it almost felt like she’d prefer I didn’t go...and I knew that wasn’t the case. I was her sister. These other women were friends of hers, but I was her sister. There was no trumping me when it came to the important people in her life—except Kevin, of course. We were literally all each other had when it came to family.

“Okay. I’ll finish up my work here so I don’t have to worry about it on the ship.”

Amelia looked almost relieved. “Good. I’m glad you aren’t coming out of obligation. We’ll have loads of fun on the ship.”

“And we’ll have loads of fun tonight,” Cara said, shimmying.

Sydney stripped down and pulled on a gold sequined dress. I averted my gaze while they all got ready for the club. I picked up one of the face masks and my pajamas—a button-down cotton shirt with matching shorts. “If y’all are done in here, I’m going to shower.”

They all confirmed it was fine. I took the opportunity to scrub the airplane from my hair. I pulled on my sensible cotton pajamas, threw my hair up in a towel, and leaned close to the steamy mirror to apply the lime green face mask. It had said all natural ingredients on the front of the package, but I imagined that wasn’t the case. No avocados were this bright unless they were made out of fabric or adhered to a preteen girl’s water bottle.

The room was blissfully silent when I got out of the bathroom, and I felt guilty for being slightly relieved I didn’t have to attend the party tonight. But never mind that. I would watch The Proposal, rejuvenate my t-zone, stuff my face with strawberries, and keep searching for a solution to my promotion problem.

But first, ice. I grabbed the bucket and my key card, slid my feet into my flats, and left the room in search of the ice machine. It really wasn’t the end of the world that half of the wedding party were people I didn’t like. It was only seven days, and I could handle anything—including screeches that masqueraded as voices—for seven days.

The ice machine was at the end of the hall. I found it easily and filled my bucket. Before I made it back to my room, the door next to mine swung open and a man stepped out, colliding with me and my freshly filled bucket of ice. The bucket flew out of my hands and swung through the air, sending thick ice cubes all over the carpet.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine—” My words lodged in my throat when I lifted my head from the ice massacre and leveled my gaze on the perpetrator. Of course it would be Jack. His dark eyebrows jumped up on his forehead, and I was grateful for the crusty, half-dried spa mask covering my skin, because lime green sludge was bound to hide the blush bleeding into my cheeks.

“Ah. So you opted not to join the girls?” he asked, in a tone that said why am I not surprised?

My excuse stuck in my throat. I didn’t owe him an explanation. Instead, I picked up my ice bucket and went to move around him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Hold up.” He put a hand up. His stupid-handsome face looked confused. He’d changed out of his earlier outfit and now wore fitted chino shorts and a short-sleeved button-down. It accentuated his bicep just below the sleeve. A bicep I would not pay any more attention to. “What’s that about?” he asked.

“What’s what about?”

He seemed to weigh his words for only a second. “Have I done something to offend you?”

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