“Angie? They’re breaking our hearts. It’s worth a little swearing. Love sucks, but we have each other and we’ve made it through far worse.” She sounds sad and resigned. I hate that someone has done that to her and I can’t even hug her. We’re both silent. I have no idea what to say, but then Mom speaks. “Hey, do you have TV? Wi-Fi?”
What? “Yeah, of course. This is a luxury liner, after all. All the comforts of home sweet mansion.” I put all the snootiness into my voice that I can while I put my nose in the air. I’m pretty sure that’s required, even when pretending. “Only the best champagne, the best caviar and every television channel on the planet.”
“Alright, then we’re doing girls’ night over the phone. Order up some popcorn from room service and I’ll find a movie to stream. Something good to moon and cry over. I’m just going to run and get mine popping.” There’s a thunk as she puts her phone on the table.
I plug my phone in so it won’t run out of juice, and call room service. They seem a bit confused by my order for root beer and popcorn, but they do their job. Fifteen minutes later, Mom and I are watching Love Story, which is like, so ancient Leo wasn’t even born, but I decide a young Ryan O’Neil more than makes up for it.
Girls’ night over the phone is completely ridiculous, but it does the trick. It’s not quite like being huddled up on the couch at home, but with our phones on speaker mode, it sort of works. The sound’s a little funny when it’s coming from two places at once, but it’s really about us hanging out the best we can. Reminding each other that there is life outside of the male ego. Who knew I needed to take a cruise for some mother-daughter time?
When the movie’s over, we call it a night. Next month’s phone bill is going to hurt, but she totally made me feel better. At least for a while. Hopefully I did the same for her.
Crawling into bed, I wonder what Gavin’s up to. Did he eat dinner with the Captain? It’s almost eleven, so they should be done by now. Is he coming back at all? The thought of him flirting with someone else, maybe even going back to her room, brings tears to my eyes but I refuse to cry. I throw a pillow and a blanket on the couch just in case. More to make it obvious I’m not sharing the bed than to be nice.
My eyelids droop as soon as my head hits the pillow. I didn’t do much today, but emotionally, it’s been exhausting. Our birth control mistake, the fight, the other fight, finding out the Caldwells just have an asshole gene in the family tree somewhere. There’s been a lot to take in.
If I think too hard my chest still aches, and the bed feels cold and empty, but the sound of rain pounding against the windows lulls me to sleep.
Chapter 27: Gavin
I cling to the rail of the front deck while the Golden Emperor of the Seas climbs one wave, then plunges over it, diving into the trough between swells, salty spray washing over me and threatening to knock me off my feet. Man versus nature. It’s raw and wild, and simpler than dealing with whatever the fuck is going on with me and Angie.
Rolling my head, I try to work the massive kink out of my neck. I should’ve ignored the bed stuff on the couch and climbed right in with her. Slid close behind her and made her mine again.
Except fuck me if I could do it when I saw her lying there. Sleeping, her face was relaxed and peaceful so I let her be. Look at me, actually containing my fucking urges, instead of fucking up. Again.
While we’re climbing the next wave, I risk letting go with one hand to brush hair out of my eyes. It’s plastered to my skin, soaked and sticking. We crest again, rushing down into the next valley. I scream into the storm, letting the wind and salty spray rip away my frustration.
Last night I almost didn’t go back. It would’ve been so easy to let some other gold-digger take me back to their room to fuck away my sorrows. Except I can’t stop thinking about her, and it drives me crazy. Her face when I accused her, her eyes when she walked away from me in the bar, her mouth stretched wide in ecstasy as my cock slid into her the first time.
She’s got a fucking free ride to Stanford, for Christ’s sake. And she actually wants to go. With that kind of drive, why the hell would she want a baby? And what does she need me for? It doesn’t fit, but it’s a lot easier to be suspicious than it is to open myself up to a lifetime of the shit my dad’s ex-wives throw at him.
But what if I fucked up? It’s not like I didn’t pack enough condoms to keep her happy until long after the cruise is over. I didn’t ask, and it pisses me off that this mess is as much my fault as hers. I hate fucking up.