“I’m afraid you do. I’ve already sent a steward to your room to fetch you. I think once you’re here you’ll agree that it was worth the bother.” I can almost hear his grin through the phone.
Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... “Do I need to wear anything special? Fancy dress or anything?” Call me suspicious, but getting married in my swimsuit has made me a little cautious about surprises.
“No, no need. Just come as you are.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll wait for the steward.”
Sorry, Chuck. One evening of underdressed fun is enough for me. I throw on a sundress over my suit and give my hair a quick check. There isn’t time for anything else before the steward is knocking at the door.
It’s the same kid from the other morning, the one who hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off my chest when he came for our wakeup call. He looks a little disappointed, probably because I’m not hanging out of my shirt.
“Right this way, Mrs. Caldwell.”
He leads me to the elevator and we ride down in silence. It feels a little awkward, but it’s not like we have anything to say to each other. He’s just doing his job. It’s not his fault if I’m about to walk the plank. Leading the way through a stately section of the ship I haven’t seen yet, he finally stops in front of large shut double doors. The sign says LIBRARY LOUNGE. “Here you are, Mrs. Caldwell. The captain told me to tell you to go in, and that um... you won’t be disturbed.”
I nod, eyes wide. That sounds ominous.
Chapter 35: Angie
Putting my hand on the doorknob, I twist and open.
The ship’s library isn’t large, but when I enter the room, I can almost believe that I’m walking into an old-fashioned study. No fireplace, but the walls are lined with heavy wooden bookshelves and dark green textured wallpaper on what I can see of the walls. The carpet is plush and looks soft. It’s the kind of room that would make someone want to fire up a cigar or pipe if it weren’t for the NO SMOKING signs.
In the center of the room are several deep leather chairs. They look both comfortable and impressive, in a faux-antique sort of way. Sitting there in a perfectly tailored suit and looking for all the world like he actually belongs in a library, is Gavin. He stands up as soon as I enter, the suit emphasizing his broad shoulders and the powerful V form of his torso. He looks so good that I almost forget to wonder why he’s here, or why I’m here for that matter.
His face is unreadable. Is he nervous? That’s not like him. His usual smirk is hidden, but the corners of his mouth turn up slightly as I enter. It looks more uncertain than cocky. What isn’t uncertain is that he’s glad to see me, and that I’m happy I took a second to get ready before I came. His hungry gaze travels over me, and warmth spreads downwards with a familiar tingle.
“Hi.” Such a short word, and yet there’s so much in his tone and the way he looks at me. He comes a step closer, then stops and pulls a bouquet of roses out from behind the chair. They’re gorgeous, a dozen shades of red, no two alike, and their clear, sweet smell reaching me even from across the room.
“Hi yourself.” My eyes dart from his face, to the flowers and back. “What’s going on?”
My heart feels like it’s on the top of a seesaw. I want to believe in the fantasy that this is a big romantic apology, but this is Gavin we’re talking about. It’s probably something his Dad set up for my mother. If I let myself believe too much, it will hurt that much more when I land.
I jump when I hear the click of the door closing behind me. A second click is the sound of the lock being turned. I don’t know what I’m scared of, but being locked in makes me nervous.
The fear must have shown on my face, since Gavin’s quick to say something. “Don’t worry. It still opens from the inside. He’s just giving us privacy.”
“Privacy for what?” If I didn’t know better, I’d feel like I was being set up for a marriage proposal on one of those hidden camera shows, but that’d be crazy. We already had the wedding. A romantic proposal now wouldn’t make any sense. If he gets down on one knee, I’m not waiting to find out, I’m running.
He stops an arm’s length in front of me, but no kneeling. “Alright, this is probably going to be crap. Just bear with me, alright?”
I nod, curious and terrified.
“Angie, I’m sorry. I fucked up.” He holds the flowers out, expecting me to take them.
I blink, caught off guard by the no strings attached honesty in his voice. There’s not even a hint of arrogance or condescension. As if on autopilot, I take the flowers and hold them close, inhaling their sweet scent. What is he up to?