Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
But this wasn’t any of that.
This was pity.
It soured my gut as much as it fanned the angry flame I hadn’t realized was cresting to an inferno inside my chest. How dare he pity me. How dare he think he has any power over me anymore.
How dare he still have the capacity to love again when he completely obliterated mine.
Somehow, I managed to tear my gaze from his, but the reminder he’d given me of how love is flimsy and fleeting stuck to me like tree sap. I ignored the way my nerves were short-circuiting as I pinned my team with a smile, clapping my hands together and running over the list of items we still needed to accomplish before we called it a day. My voice sounded far away and foreign as I assigned Bernard to prepare the cabins while Leah was sent down to laundry. But this was how I’d survive. This was how I’d push past my discomfort and focus on the whole reason I was here.
I would continue inventory check and get started on the deep cleaning that needed to happen from bow to stern.
I would work — because that’s what I was here to do.
I would work and I wouldn’t think about Finn or Gisella or — no.
Another icy-cold realization slid down my spine.
Gisella was my fucking roommate.
I closed my eyes on a silent groan, knowing the producers were likely having a heyday with the fact that I’d unknowingly paired myself with my ex’s new girlfriend.
This was the drama they craved, the drama they created.
Well, I wasn’t going to feed into it.
I tilted my chin higher as the teams dispersed, even managing a smile and lighthearted joke as I passed Gisella on her way out to the sundeck.
“Ready for this, roomie?”
“So ready! I’m excited to get on deck. I need sun,” she said, closing her eyes and extending her arms out like she was sunbathing. “What about you, chief stew?” She waggled her brows. “Ready to run this floating hotel like a boss bitch?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I replied with a smile that felt as tight as my clenched asshole. Why does she have to be so nice? “If I start sleep-talking about charcuterie boards, just roll me over and tell me I’m pretty.”
She giggled and promised me she’d do just that before she skipped out onto the deck.
Eli pretended like he was going to smack my butt when he slid past me next, but he held up his hands with a smirk at the last moment, casting me a wink and a comment about not calling HR.
I stood there for a brief moment when everyone was gone, savoring the newfound quiet of the salon.
And then I heard my name.
“Ember.”
I closed my eyes for only a second, and then I popped them back open, wide and focused, and clapped my hands together.
“Alright, let’s get this boat in order,” I said out loud to myself, to the cameras, to the viewers I knew would see this one day. I headed back to where I’d been working inventory before the crew meeting with the fakest smile I’d ever worn.
“Ember.”
I ignored the way my heart raced as I wove through the interior of the boat, ignored the faint, familiar voice chasing behind me. I was determined to just focus on my job and the opportunity I’d worked so long for, to ignore the chaos the stupid showrunners were trying to create.
But when I made it to the pantry outside the galley, I was pulled to a stop, a warm hand catching me by the crook of my elbow and spinning me.
And I snapped.
“What, Finn?” My chest heaved, an exasperated sigh clawing out of me as I tore out of his grip. My forced smile fell along with my flimsy attempt at acting unaffected by the latest bomb drop. I lifted my hands and let them drop against my thighs. “What?”
That last word came out breathy and exhausted, almost pitiful, like a dying soldier begging to be put out of her misery. But there was no taking it back now.
I was safe from his touch, but not from his gaze — which cut through me like a scalpel as he stood less than a foot away. His jaw was set, the muscle of it flexing as his eyes flicked between mine.
He looked devastated, like I was a puppy he’d accidentally hit with his car.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I whispered, swallowing, my gaze sliding to the floor between us.
“Ember, I didn’t… I wouldn’t have—”
The words died on his tongue, and even though I was narrowing my gaze at him and preparing to spit venom, I couldn’t help but lean into whatever he was about to say. I wanted his excuses. I wanted to know what choices he would have made differently.