Page 101 of Away We Go

“Let’s go back to the yacht,” I tell him, noting his small sigh of relief. “I want to see what the chef cooks for us.”

With hours of TV watching under my belt, I know the chef on a yacht has the hardest job and I’m dying to see how it’s done. I’ll probably spend the better part of the evening just hanging out and watching him do his thing.

I’m going to bethatguest.

“Alright. Are you ready to head back?”

Glancing around, I take a few more photos, including a few selfies with Nicky. There’s no chance I’m not committing every moment of this trip to film. Or digital film, as the case may be.

“Now can we go?” Nicky asks after smiling indulgently for ‘just one more shot’.

I do a quick scroll of my photos and nod, satisfied. “Yep, let’s go.”

We walk side-by-side back toSeraphand separate when we get there with plans to meet up for dinner in an hour. I use this time apart to send photos of the yacht, the town, and the crepe to Tanya, who replies instantly, telling me she wishes we could switch lives.

Fair.

I send a quick-fire email to my parents and Matt with an update, keeping the details of our trip vague and light, not knowing what to share with them about my time with Nicky. Because while everything between us feels different—more—in the days after his crash, nothing has really changed.

Even if it feels like it has.

Shrugging off these thoughts, I take a long shower to freshen up, coating my skin with my favourite coconut-scented body lotion. It feels fitting to smell tropical while sailing the seas. I apply a light layer of make-up and slip on a long, breezy maxi dress, which skims my curves, hinting at rather than revealing the shape of my body underneath.

My stomach grumbles just as I fasten the straps on my sandals and I make my way upstairs to where our dinner is being served. Glowing in candlelight. With the burnt orange setting sun as our backdrop.

It’s the most romantic dinner set up in the world.

“Cherry.” Nicky’s deep voice draws me out of my daze and over to where he’s standing off to the side looking like a snack in a pairof beige chinos and a light blue shirt that highlights the tan he’s already developed over the last five hours.

My freckled skin screams:That’s not fair!

“Hi,” I say somewhat shyly, aware it’s just the two of us here awaiting the moonlight.

“Are you hungry?”

My stomach answers for me and my cheeks flush.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Why don’t we eat?”

We sit next to each other as Rachel brings up the first course. “Bread crumbed and pan-seared scallops with a burnt butter sauce.”

“Oh, fancy,” I breathe out, taking a photo of my plate before diving right in. “Oh my gosh. This is amazing.”

I gobble down all three scallops in record time, looking up to find Nicky watching me with a small smile.

“It’s so good,” I tell him, like he doesn’t already know.

He nods. “Yes, it is.”

Rachel quietly removes our plates and serves the next course. I dip my spoon into the creamy leak and potato soup and let out a moan of pure appreciation.

He grips his spoon a little tighter, his gaze following my tongue as it licks my lips.

Yikes, that’s hot.

Both the soup and the look in his eyes.

I swallow another burning mouthful and clear my throat. “I’ve been wondering. If you weren’t an F1 driver, what would you be?”

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