Page 66 of The Second Chance in the Mediterranean
“I don’t...” I closed my eyes briefly. “It’s too complicated, Seb. Just leave it be, okay? It’s not worth it.”
“You mean I’m not worth it.” He shuddered, his head tipping forward and his chest rising on a big breath.
My stomach dropped. “That’s not what I said. I think you’re great. But this is my job. How many times can I uproot my life to try to find what I want?” My voice edged into begging.
“That’s not what I’m asking for, Marce.” His hands dropped to his sides, palms splayed out. “You fit in here. You’ve proven yourself, at least to Justin and Natasha and the rest of the crew. How can you prove yourself toyou? And how can you ask me to give this up when you fitme?”
I took a ragged inhale as Seb spun and paced away.
“You think we can keep this on the down-low, but we can’t. This isn’t just something you sneak past other people. I’ve been in your bed nearly every night for weeks. We’ve been tiptoeing around and pretending this is something it’s not.”
He looked up, his eyes fierce and determined.
“This is not a fling for me. You were never a fling for me.”
As still as a statue, he waited for something—anything—from me. But I didn’t know how to respond to this. I didn’t know what was safe anymore.
Seb groaned into my silence, wiping his hands over his face. When he pulled away, he wouldn’t look at me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I begged myself to think of something to say, something that didn’t ruin my career, something that didn’t irrevocably damage Seb—or me.
But I didn’t have the magic words.
“Marce—” His voice broke. When I said nothing, Seb opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Hand on the knob, he turned back to me, his face grave.
“I’ll make sure you don’t lose your job. In fact, I’ll stay out of your way, out of your galley. You just...take care of yourself.”
The door clicked shut, and I squeezed my eyes closed and pressed my forehead against it.
Seb was good at taking care of me. But I didn’t know how to take care of myself.
Thirty-One
“Hey,Marce, can you come up to the helm?” Dom’s call came in over the intercom. It was the afternoon two days after Justin and Natasha had left. The yacht crew had been given two full days off, and I hadn’t left my room much. Overhead, I’d been able to hear the sounds of the rest of the crew enjoying their days off—the rope swing was probably out again, and the Jet Skis had been zipping past—but I’d stayed in my room, quiet and moping. I wondered if Seb was outside with the rest of the crew.
Climbing the stairs up to the pilothouse, I replayed the fateful day onOdysseywhen I’d been fired. Was this about to be a repeat?
When I knocked on the door, Dom called out for me to enter. The pilothouse was empty save Dom, and he gestured for me to sit in the chair next to him.
My heart was beating hard and fast while I climbed up into the chair and settled myself. I knitted my fingers together in my lap and tried to steady my breathing.
“Marcella,” Dom began, “Justin told me about the...situation...he found you in on Monday morning.”
A sour taste filled my mouth, and I shifted my weight in the chair, gripping the armrest. It might be best to say as little as possible. “Yes.”
“If there is a relationship going on, I would like to be made aware of it—”
“There’s no relationship,” I interrupted. “It was just...It won’t happen again.” If I wasn’t so scared of losing my job, I would have at least been mortified to be talking about my sex life with my boss.
Dom’s eyebrows dropped, concern etched on his face. He ran his hand over his beard, scratching his chin. “Relationships on board are tough, and I know my experiences may be a little colored by—”
“No, really.” I waved my hands, trying to come up with the words to assure Dom that it wasn’t that big of a deal. “It’s over, and we rarely see each other most days. I won’t let it interfere with my job, or his.”
“Marcella...” The way he said my name was full of sympathy and made my stomach flip. I gripped the armrests again.
“Am I fired?”
Dom shook his head. “No, you aren’t fired. You worked hard, and the Boyds are impressed. I know it wasn’t easy in the beginning, but there’s a learning curve. Especially with Natasha.” His lips tipped up at the joke. My response must have looked pathetic, because his eyebrows pinched together tighter.
