Blue Moon #3 (Story of Us Series - Into the Blue) - Sydney Jamesson Page 0,6
sits just below my décolletage. I offset it with my kiss necklace. It was an unlucky outfit for me, as I recall, and I will be very surprised if I have occasion to slap anyone tonight.
A couple of minutes before nine, I arrive on deck. Since boarding this boat, I have only had one real occasion to dress up—that was for my dinner date with Jake. I’ve been happy to keep it casual and there has been no need to go to any lengths in terms of outfits until now.
To my delight, the crew have wrapped lengths of cable around the handrails skirting the top deck and attached tiny white lights. There is a candle on the table, illuminating the usual array of glistening crockery. Most surprisingly there is background music to accompany the familiar sound of the sea. It’s so pretty, reminiscent of a night spent on a balcony in Rome; the night of an engagement proposal that was postponed until the morning, as I recall…
Happy days.
I bow my head, succumbing to the memory, allowing it to wrap around me like a tender embrace. In that split second, I feel myself floating, falling...
“Whoa. Watch out!” Sam calls, catching me as I rock backward onto her; she takes the last step up onto the deck. “Are you all right, Beth? You looked like you were about to faint.”
I fight my way through the fog with deep breathing and a shake of my head. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking about something and got carried away.”
“Better watch your step.” She takes her hand from my arm, stopping dead when she sees the deck. “Oh my goodness! Isn’t this lovely?”
“Yes. The crew have made a special effort too.” I point towards the dining table. “Please take a seat.”
“I’d love too, but I feel like it should be your husband sitting here, not me.” She lays out the napkin on her knee and looks at me apologetically. “I dare say he’ll be doing something similar…” Realising the inappropriateness of her comment she squirms in her chair. “I mean…”
I shake my head and prepare to put her at ease. “I know what you mean. Let’s enjoy dinner and talk about my husband’s indiscretions later, shall we?”
“That’s a good idea.” She pours out two glasses of chilled water. “So, tell me where you’ve been on your travels so far…”
By ten thirty, we are all out of coffee and small talk. I make a suggestion: “Let’s go and sit somewhere more comfortable?”
Sam follows me to the other end of the deck where scented candles have been placed on a coffee table. I stretch out on the white leather sofa and tuck my legs beneath me. Sam does the same, her nervousness anesthetized a little by two glasses of wine.
“Is this where I reach for my notepad?” she asks, her journalist’s instinct picking up on the scent of a mouth-watering exclusive. “I can go and get it, if you like…”
I reach over and touch her clasped hands. “No need. You won’t forget what I have to say.”
Luke appears with two blankets. “If you’re staying outside, you might need these.” He shakes them out, covers my knees and does the same for Sam. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water?”
Sam is shaking her head and gripping her blanket as if she is naked beneath it.
“We’re good thank you, Luke. Tell Lance that dinner was amazing.”
He collects our coffee cups and strides away. “I will. Goodnight.”
When he’s out of earshot, Sam leans in a little. “I might just have to take him home with me,” she whispers, her eyes illuminated by the candle’s flame.
Sensing her amusement I play along. “We may have trouble fitting him into your suitcase, but we can give it a go.”
“Hell, yeah! Sod Customs and Excise.” Her jovial laughter carries on the breeze. “I have to say, Beth, for a woman estranged from her husband you’re handling it very well.”
You’d think…
I look far out to sea. “That’s because we’re not estranged, we’re just living separately for a while. He was here a couple of days ago.”
Lines form on the bridge of her nose. “He was, but I thought he was … involved with that model. They all look the same to me, long legs and panda eyes. What’s her name again?”
“Alenka.” Her name leaves my mouth in a three-syllable whisper that causes my lips to tingle.
“Right. Didn’t they used to be an item?” she asks, feigning innocent curiosity.