Page 34 of Knocked Up By the Grump

I shake my head defiantly. “No way. I have no intention of lowering the lights. The ambiance of the harbor is essential for our business, plus it really brings life to your parties.”

Ben looks relieved. “Good,” he says, “I pretty much rely on those lights now.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “I played nice and acted the part, but it's just not feasible if we got rid of the lights on the marina. They have to understand that.”

“You made the right choice. It’s a good thing you talked to the reporters. Now, hopefully, the marina can save some face.”

I'm momentarily distracted by the sound of footsteps approaching. I look up to see Chris returning to the room, his face etched with a hint of weariness. He settles back into his seat, and I can't help but raise an eyebrow with curiosity.

“Everything alright, Chris?” I ask.

He sighs. “Yeah, just work stuff. Had to take a call. Seems like there's no escaping it even when we're out here.”

Ben and I nod in understanding. The relentless pull of work, even during our moments of relaxation, is a shared experience among us. It's both a blessing and a curse of our affluent lifestyles.

“Yup. Sometimes, it feels like work is the only thing keeping me busy these days,” Ben responds.

We share a brief, knowing smile, acknowledging the irony of seeking leisure on these yachts while work constantly beckons in the background. It's a reminder that even amidst the serenity of the sea, the demands of our careers never truly fade away.

As we shuffle cards and deal another round of poker, Chris leans in, his expression curious.

“By the way, guys, I overheard you two chatting earlier about the interview with theMiami Times.How's my sister doing in her new position at Sovereign Harbor, Alex?”

Ugh, for fuck's sake.

Chris is the last person I want to talk to about Emily for painfully obvious reasons. It was hard enough even to speak her name in front of Ben.

“She's settling in quite well,” I manage to say, even though my words are strained. “Seems like a quick learner and a dedicated employee.”

I keep my answer vague, not wanting to delve into any specifics.

Now that the idea of Emily has entered the room, my thoughts suddenly drift back to her again. A mix of emotions washes over me, a swirling whirlpool of guilt, embarrassment, and frustration. Guilt because of our shared secret, embarrassment for how our recent encounter on the yacht had unfolded, and frustration at myself for allowing these feelings to persist.

Mostly, I’m also perplexed.

She rejected me, I remind myself.

I had opened up to her, asked her out to dinner, and hoped to explore whatever I thought we had between us. But she walked away, avoiding the question. I breathe in and then out, telling myself there are more important things to deal with. I can’t waste my thoughts on a woman, especially not one like Emily. Yet…

I miss her.

I take another sip of my whiskey, the amber liquid burning its way down my throat. It's a futile attempt to drown out those troublesome thoughts, to numb the emotions that overwhelmme. Despite my efforts, the memory of Emily lingers…her silky skin under my hands, the taste of her sweet lips on mine.

“Are we playing or what?” Ben asks, drawing all of our attention to the game at hand.

We get down to it, the poker game extending late into the night. Along with the clinking of poker chips and the shuffling of cards, we make casual conversation and playful banter. It’s been the same routine for as many weeks as I can remember.

“Alright,” Ben says after laying down a pair of kings. “Looks like I've got the kings in my corner tonight, gentlemen. Be prepared to part with your chips.”

Chris smirks, glancing at his own cards. “Don't get too comfortable. Luck can change in an instant.”

As for me, I maintain a measured poker face, my thoughts still lingering on Emily but hidden behind a veil of indifference. I toss a few chips into the pot, my way of staying in the game without revealing too much.

Our banter continues, providing a much-needed distraction from the complexities of life outside this poker table.

As the sun begins its slow descent below the horizon, the promise of twilight brings a tranquil beauty to the evening. The sky transforms into a canvas of oranges and purples, creating a breathtaking backdrop to the stillness of the ocean.

But as darkness envelops the surroundings, a stark contrast emerges. High above us, the bright overhead lights—the very ones I had promised to eliminate—flicker to life. Their artificial glare cuts through the serene ambiance like a stark reminder of unfulfilled commitments.

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