Page 8 of The Vacation Mix-Up
His complexion turns blotchy. “So… you’re not traveling together?”
“No,” we both snap.
“We don’t know each other,” Riley adds.
“I see.” He rubs his chin, and I know that’s not a good sign. I often do the same when I’ve royally fucked up a piece of furniture I’ve been working on. “It appears you’ve both been allocated the same cabin,” he explains.
“No shit,” I huff out.
“I’m terribly sorry for this. We’ll get it sorted. Just bear with me while I speak to my supervisor.” He pushes a bowl of candies toward us. “Help yourselves. I won’t be long.”
Obliging—because who doesn’t like candy—I offer one to Riley as well. She scowls, so I shrug and pop one into my mouth just as the guy returns with a woman in a crisp-white naval uniform.
“Thank you for your patience, Mr. and Ms. Wilson.”
“We’re not married,” I rumble, my patience wearing thin. All I want to do is go to a bar and relax. That’s what I booked this damncruise for.
“I wasn’t implying you were,” the supervisor says. “But please forgive me—I meant no offense.”
Riley glares at me. “What he’s trying to say is that, up until minutes ago in the cabin, we’d never met.”
“I see.” The supervisor clicks her mouse a few times, eyes locked on the screen. She exhales and shakes her head. “Hmm… I don’t know how this happened. I mean, you both have the same name, so obviously that’showit happened, but—” She chews her ruby-red lip. “—it shouldn’t have. How strange.”
She keeps digging for an answer that, frankly, doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care how it happened. I just want it fixed.
“Listen, I’m happy to move cabins,” I offer. “Riley can have the one you’ve given us, and I’ll just move to another. Easy.”
The supervisor’s eyes meet mine, and she relaxes a little. “Thank you for your understanding, sir. I can’t express how sorry I am for this. What I can do is offer you a full refund for your inconvenience.”
“Sweet,” I say, pleased I volunteered first.
“I will have to downgrade you though, sir.”
My satisfaction dissipates. “How much downgrading are we talking about?”
“The stateroom you booked is a premium mini-suite with balcony. Unfortunately, we don’t have any of that cabin class available. The ship is at capacity.”
“Okaaay,” I drawl, not quite processing what she’s saying.
“What we do have are interior cabins, aft, on Deck Three.”
A chill runs the length of my spine. “I’m not moving to an interior cabin in the bowels of this boat. No goddamned way. I’m claustrophobic.”
The woman winces. “Right. That certainly won’t work then.”
We all look at Riley, and she takes a step back. “S-So am I. And… And I get seasick and need to be midship.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not moving cabins.”
“I understand.” The supervisor sighs and taps her chin. “Would you be willing to share the cabin, then? I can offer you both a partial refun?—”
“Absolutely not!” Riley barks.
I’m a little offended, but she’s right. No fucking way. I spent a good portion of my savings on this trip. It’s my bachelor getaway—my freedom vacation—and I’m not about to share my room with a stranger.
“Nope,” I agree, shaking my head. “Not sharing.”
“Unfortunately,” the woman says, “the only other option is to cancel one of you and book a new cruise for a later date.” She checks her watch. “But we’ll need to do it ASAP. We set sail in less than two hours, and we’ll have to track down your luggage.”
Riley whirls on me. “It’ll have to be you.”
