Page 123 of Better When Shared
Not that inappropriate had ever stopped me before.
"We should get back." Despite my words, I made no move toward the suite door.
"Should we?" Enzo leaned closer, close enough that his breath ghosted across my ear. "Because I'm pretty sure she's going to be in that shower for a while, trying to wash off yesterday's mistakes. And I'm pretty sure you need to get out of your own head before you drive yourself crazy with guilt over something that's already done."
His proximity was making it hard to think, hard to remember why I was supposed to be the responsible one. The scent of his skin was intoxicating, warm and masculine and overwhelming. I found myself wondering what he'd taste like, whether his mouth would be as soft as it looked.
The thought spurred a surge of panic. This was exactly the kind of thinking that got me into trouble, the kind of impulse that led to bad decisions and complicated situations. I'd learnedyears ago that mixing attraction with friendship was a recipe for disaster. And Enzo was a walking disaster.
"I need some air." I pushed past him toward the end of the corridor, where I could see glass doors leading to what looked like a deck.
The ship rolled gently beneath our feet, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the sound of water running through the suite's pipes. Gemma was still in the shower, still washing away the remnants of her failed wedding day, and here I was in the hallway, trying not to think about her naked body while fighting an increasingly inconvenient attraction to her ex-fiancé's best friend.
This cruise was going to be a disaster.
Chapter 4
Enzo
Cadiz, Spain
Gemma, who was recovering from her hangover, spent the day lounging on our balcony with a book, and Brian disappeared after one more scathing, judgmental glare. As if he hadn’t been part of the whole kidnapping fiasco. Unsettled, I meandered around the ship, tried some of the food, took advantage of the free alcohol, but nothing would chase away my restlessness.
I had to face facts: Brian may be a giant dork, but I valued his opinion. He’d never been this upset with me, not even when we’d tried to convince him to buy a keg for our party when he was 21 and we were 18. Brian was steady, quiet, and always there when I needed him, even after Jake had left Philadelphia to travel the world on his grand adventure.
That he could disappear on a small luxury cruise liner sat heavily with me. And when he returned to our room late at night, Ipretended not to watch him as he got ready for bed and settled down on the sectional, perpendicular to me. If I moved my feet a little, we’d be touching, but that would be a weird as hell thing to do. So I curled my knees in closer and let out a fake snore.
I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep, but I woke to Gemma hunched over her phone, fingers flying across the screen. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse and tailored navy trousers, her legs folded under her in the big armchair across from the sectional, looking every inch the CEO. Brian was nowhere to be seen.
I stood and stretched, peeking over her shoulder along the way.
"Is that a flight booking website?” I muttered, reading the screen over her shoulder.
She didn't even look up, just continued scrolling through departure times with the focus of a woman on a mission. "As soon as we got near the Spanish coast, I had better reception. There's a 2:15 flight to Barcelona, and from there I can get to Heathrow. I can catch a taxi to the airport, be back in Bath by evening."
The casual way she said it—like abandoning a luxury cruise was another item on her to-do list—made panic claw at my chest. This whole rescue mission would be for nothing if she bailed on day two. Worse, Brian would hold this over my head forever. I had to prove him wrong, to show him that bringing her had been the right choice.
I moved to sit on the coffee table in front of her, close enough to see the determined set of her jaw, the way her green eyes reflected the phone screen's glow. She smelled like expensive perfume and the lavender soap from the suite's bathroom, clean and crisp and completely at odds with the chaos of yesterday.
"Come on," I said, gesturing toward the windows where the Spanish coastline spread out like a postcard. "Look at that view and tell me you want to go back to spreadsheets and quarterly earnings calls."
The port of Cadiz stretched below us, all terracotta roofs and palm trees swaying in the Mediterranean breeze. The water was so blue it looked fake, and I could see other passengers streaming down the gangway toward the beaches, their laughter carrying on the warm air.
Gemma looked up, her gaze following mine to the windows. For a moment, something flickered across her face—longing, maybe, or regret. Like she was seeing something she wanted but couldn't quite let herself have.
"I have responsibilities," she said, but her voice lacked conviction. "The hotel group doesn't run itself, and with Tristan on leave, I can't disappear for three weeks."
"But that’s what you’d already planned, with Jake. This is your cruise!”
“When it was my honeymoon, it was sensible. But now, it’ll make me look… I don’t know, like a weak, abandoned woman, wallowing after a man left her.”
“Or maybe you’ll look like a strong, sexy woman, grabbing life’s opportunities, even when things go to shit. When's the last time you took a real vacation?" I tilted my head, studying her profile. The morning light caught the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the elegant line of her neck. "And I don't mean working vacations where you spend half the time on conference calls."
She was quiet for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the booking button. "That's not the point."
"Isn't it, though?" I pushed off from the window, moving closer until I could see the tiny lines of stress around her eyes. "Gemma, you're allowed to fall apart a little. You're allowed to do something fucking impractical. No one will judge you for having emotions."
The words hit their mark. I watched her shoulders tense, watched her finger tighten on the phone. But she didn't press the button.
