Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Never in my life did I imagine I would find a “normal” routine on a multi-million-dollar yacht.

Back home, in Boulder, routine was everything for me. I ate the same thing for breakfast, read for about thirty minutes, did a quick high-intensity interval training workout to get my heart and body awake and going, and then I went to my first class. I’d spend the time between classes either taking photos around campus or town, in the mountains, perhaps taking a day trip to get away. My evenings were filled with editing photos, reading, or spending time with Joel. And though there were differences each day, I had a routine that kept me stable and steady, that brought me comfort.

It was part of what I’d been missing, what had been making me uneasy since Joel and I left the States.

But now, there I was, waking up in new waters or docked at a new port every morning, eating the same thing for breakfast, reading for a bit before I did my workout, and then busying myself throughout the day by either taking photographs for Theo or helping Emma and the other stewardesses. I found I didn’t mind it, even taking photographs for Theo had become easier now that I knew what to expect.

Plus, none of the other guests on the boat were as bad as Audrey and Nicolette — at least, not yet.

I was exhausted by the time the sun set each night, though — eyes red and dry as I edited photos and worked on my portfolio. When Joel came into the cabin, it was usually only long enough to shower and change before he was dipping out for his night watch, or dragging me out of the room and down to hang out with the rest of the crew. And where I would stay for an hour or so, Joel would be down there all night.

It baffled me how he had the energy.

The crew was growing on me, and in small ways, it felt like they were starting to accept me, too. Emma would fill me in on the inside jokes when I didn’t understand them, and she and I spent a lot of my time below deck talking about her life in Austria and what it was like for me growing up in Colorado. We compared our favorite hikes, exchanged pictures of lakes and mountains and valleys, and told stories of our childhood dogs. She held her stomach with a longing smile as she told me about her mom’s delicious wienerschnitzel and tafelspitz, and I tried to explain why dipping pizza crust in honey was a life-changing culinary event and the only acceptable way to eat pizza in Colorado.

I could talk to Emma the same way I could talk to my sister or to Joel, like we had been friends for a lifetime already.

Wayland was much like me in that he didn’t hang out with the crew that often, but when he did, I loved to listen to him play his guitar softly and chime in on the conversation from time to time. Ace and Eric were usually found drinking with Joel, swapping charter stories or competing in arm wrestling matches or card games.

Even Ivy and Celeste had won me over. They were two peas in a pod, gossiping and making me laugh with their own horror stories from working charters. Celeste once had a man demand a twelve-course meal for him and his family, only to have all of them drink so much they passed out and didn’t even make it to dinner at all. Ivy chimed in with her own experience of being cornered in a stateroom while changing the sheets, the main charter guest begging her to let him touch and photograph her feet.

They were different from me, but after a couple weeks of me working just as much as they were, they seemed to relax around me and open up a bit more. Ivy was still foaming at the mouth for the opportunity to give me a makeover, and Celeste was fascinated by my photographs. She always asked to see the most recent ones I’d edited. When I showed her the one of the young couple embracing on the sea wall in Nice, she covered her mouth with her fingertips, eyes wide and glossy when they found me. “I’m not sure why, but this photo makes my stomach ache.”

Nailed it.

Still, even though I felt comfortable in my new routine and found friendship within the crew, I longed for the days on my own. The days when Theo didn’t require my services, when I could walk off the yacht, or Joel could take me on the dinghy to shore — those were what I lived for. I lost hours of daylight wandering foreign streets — listening, watching, feeling. I captured life as it happened around me, telling stories that perhaps would never have been shared otherwise.

We slowly made our way down the coast of France, hopping out to islands and then back to shore until we started to creep into Italy. As much as I loved France, I found the Italian culture to be even more tantalizing. They were one-hundred percent, all the time, no matter what they were doing. They worked tirelessly, created elaborate meals that everyone in the family stopped to gather around, loved each other as if it were their life’s only purpose, and drank wine like this would be their last day on Earth. They were passionate friends, lovers, neighbors and hosts. Where most of the people I photographed in France ignored me or made some gesture to let me know they were not amused, the people of Italy were curious. They invited me closer, let me get personal with their work and their families, offered me wine and food, showed me inside their businesses and homes, and offered advice for where to go next.

As for Theo?

He might as well have been in another country.

After that morning in Nice, Theo seemed wrapped up in work. He entertained clients on the yacht most days, and when he wasn’t entertaining, he was tapping away on his laptop by the pool, speaking in hushed commands on the phone in the salon, or reading something on his tablet, his brows furrowed in concentration.

On the rare occasion he wasn’t working, he was trying to relax — I say trying because I could tell just by casting a glance in his direction from time to time that it was out of his wheelhouse to fully let go of work. Even when he stretched out on the top deck to sunbathe, his fingers would twitch, knee bouncing, head tossing from side to side with distant sighs like it was laying there doing nothing that was the real work.

He hadn’t said a word to me, not since that morning he took me to breakfast.

And why would he? This billionaire on his summer vacation in the Mediterranean? I was just a girl with a camera taking a free ride on his yacht. So what, he’d talked to me a few times. So what, he’d taken me to breakfast in France.

He was just being polite.

We’d been on the yacht for two weeks the day we dropped anchor outside of Vernazza, Italy. I went ashore and spent the morning and afternoon photographing the medieval fishing village, capturing the brightly colored houses and the beautiful water lapping at the coast. It was a little more touristy than I preferred, though, and by the time I made my way back to the yacht, I was ready for a quiet night in the cabin with Joel.

When I walked into our room, my camera around my neck and backpack slung over one shoulder, I found Joel halfway under our bed.

Or should I say, inside our bed.

The bottom of it was solid wood, but it had a few doors with knobs that opened up for additional storage. I’d assumed they were locked, since they hadn’t budged when I’d tried to store some of my belongings there. Which was why I was surprised to see Joel halfway inside the biggest storage compartment now.

“What are you doing?”

Joel jumped at my voice, knocking his head on the bed frame and cursing as he shuffled his way out. “Dammit, Aspen!”

I frowned, letting my bag drop on the dresser. “Sorry I startled you.”

He was still grumbling and rubbing his head, but he forced a breath and a smile. “No, no, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you so soon.” His eyes flicked to where he’d been under the bed, and he quickly shut the storage door and locked it, dropping the key into his pocket.

“What are you hiding under there?”

“It’s nothing,” he said curtly. “And don’t go looking, either.”

I arched a brow. “A surprise for me?”

He smirked, finally standing and sweeping me into his arms. “Maybe. So no peeking.”

I smiled against his first kiss, and then he stripped my camera strap over my head and set it on the dresser next to my bag. My arms were around his neck in the next instant, our kisses heated and intentional, hands roaming.

I missed him.

What a strange thing, to miss someone I slept next to each night. But though we’d been together the last couple of weeks, we hadn’t spent any quality time just the two of us. Even holding him now, I found myself inhaling his cinnamon scent like I hadn’t smelled it in years, tracing the muscles in his arms like I’d forgotten the shape of them. His brown eyes were warm as they watched me, his smile lazy and sweet.

“Are you done for the night?” I asked, running my fingers up his arm, over his neck, and along the line of his jaw.

“I am.”

“And you’re not on watch?”

He shook his head.

“Maybe we can lie in bed, watch a movie?” I asked, pressing onto my toes to kiss his neck. “Or not watch a movie.”

Joel chuckled, kissing me back long and hard before he grabbed my hands and pulled them from around his neck. He kissed my knuckles and then held my hands at his chest. “Actually, Theo gave us a night to go to shore.”

“You and me?!”

“The whole crew!” he said excitedly. “Well, except for Claude and Matthew. It’s their night on watch. But everyone else is going!” Joel sighed, shaking his head like he was the luckiest guy in the world. “I told you he was one of the best owners to work for. He said we’ve been working hard, and since he doesn’t have any guests on, we should take the night off and go see Italy. Ivy and Celeste already found a great area to bar hop.”

I frowned. “Oh…”

“What?” Joel asked warily.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I just… I feel like we haven’t spent any time together. I… I miss you.”

“You miss me?” Joel said on a laugh, kissing my fingertips. “I’m right here, silly. We’ve been together every day. And we’re going to have an amazing night in Italia .” He said the last two words in a phony Italian accent that almost offended me, given the fact that I’d fallen in love with the language over the last week.

“What if we ditched?” I asked, chewing my lip.

Joel pulled back a little. “Ditched? Aspen, do you know how rare this is, that the owner is letting us take a night off to go party? We don’t even have to report until ten tomorrow morning.”

“I know but—”

“I’m already getting so much shit for us being in this fancy room,” he said. “I mean, I’m supposed to be downstairs on a bunk bed with the other deck hands. And in case you forgot, you’re not a guest on this yacht, either.”

I frowned at his tone, at the insinuation. “I know that, Joel,” I said softly.

“Well, then, you understand what I’m saying. We need to be with the crew.”

“Could we come back early, maybe? Hang for an hour and then bail?”

Joel shook his head, brows furrowed at me like I was a stranger. “Do you hear yourself? What, are you too good to hang out with the help since you’ve been traipsing around all these exotic places?”

“What?” I shook my head, unsure of how this got turned on me all of a sudden, unsure of the way Joel was speaking to me. He didn’t seem himself. “Of course not.”

“Well, you’re acting kind of like a snob right now.”

“A snob? ”

“Yes! You don’t have to work the way the rest of us do, you get to get off the boat whenever you want, you have seen a dozen different places while we’ve been stuck on this yacht slaving away, and on top of it, you never hang out with us. If anything, you come downstairs for like twenty minutes before you disappear. Everyone keeps asking me if you’re mad, if we’re fighting, or if you just always have this attitude. Here I’ve been talking you up to these people for years, and they finally meet you, and you act like the last thing you want to do is hang out with them.”

My jaw dropped. “The only reason I’m even here , Joel, is because you practically begged me and said we’d have more time together,” I reminded him. “And you know how I feel about partying and being around a bunch of people I don’t know.”

“You could get to know them.”

“I just want to be with you!” I yelled, my eyes welling with tears. I glanced at the door when I heard voices passing, pulling my hands from Joel and crossing my arms over my chest. I sniffed, shaking my head, yet again questioning why I ever took Theo’s offer. “This isn’t me,” I said, waving a hand toward the hall. “The partying. The gossip. The being with other people all the time .” I paused, heart tightening in my chest. “I should have just said no,” I whispered. “Maybe we would have been better off if I wasn’t here at all.”

We stood there quiet for a long while before Joel sighed, opening his arms. “Come here.”

I was hesitant at first, but when Joel watched me with understanding in his eyes, I stepped into him, returning his embrace when he wrapped me in his arms.

“I want you here, okay? I’m glad you’re here.” He kissed my hair. “And we will have more time together, just the two of us. I promise. Okay? But tonight is a special occasion. Please, come hang out. I know it’s not your favorite thing, to be with everyone, but we’re in Italy .” He paused, as if to let that sink in. “Just one night. Please.”

Another zing of tightness hit my chest, this time born of guilt. I knew in his mind it wasn’t asking me much, to just suck it up and go out for a night.

But I didn’t want to go.

And for the first time, I decided that if I didn’t want to, I didn’t have to.

“I’m tired, Joel” I said, pressing my hands to his chest as I met his eyes. “I know it’s a rare occasion, but I’m just not up for it.”

Joel’s next breath was steady, though the way his jaw was set, I knew he wasn’t happy. I saw the disappointment in his usually warm brown eyes when he finally nodded. “Okay. We’ll stay then.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s fine. You should go. Like you said, you’re already getting shit for not being downstairs with them.”

Joel frowned, eyes searching mine.

I waved him off. “Go. You should enjoy the night off, and Vernazza is beautiful. I want you to see it. You deserve to have fun.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, rubbing my arms.

I smiled. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Joel kissed my forehead, holding me tight again. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for blowing up like that, it was just a stressful day.” He pulled back, framing my arms with his hands. “Maybe we can have a movie night tomorrow? I’ll even suffer through a chick flick, if that’s what you’re in the mood for,” he added with a wink.

I nodded, but the smile I forced felt as fake as my insistence that I was fine with him leaving. “It’s a date.”

Joel kissed me again, and then he released me, rattling off things that had happened throughout the day as he showered and got dressed and ready for the evening. I leaned my back against the headboard, listening, laughing when appropriate, all while staring at my camera on the dresser, the black and silver of it coming in and out of focus the longer I did.

He looked handsome when he’d finished, wearing navy blue shorts and a white button up with embroidered navy anchors all over the fabric. The white set off his tan from working in the sun every day, and he combed and parted his usually shaggy brown hair, reminding me of nights we’d go out in Boulder with our college friends.

Just like that, Joel’s mood was restored, and with a spritz of cologne, one last kiss on my cheek, and a promise to spoon me when he came home later, he was out the door.

And I sat there on our bed, alone, listening to the sound of laughter as the crew barreled up the stairs to the main deck.