My eyes, now accustomed to the dark, made out the long form of a man reclining on a lounger.
Xavier cradled a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand on his abdomen, his other behind his head. His eyes watched me, lazily. Like a very, very, attentive jungle cat.
The sight of him made my mouth go instantly dry and shattered the peaceful relief I’d found. “W-what are you doing here?” I asked, lamely. And how long had he been watching me?
There was such a long pause, I became self-conscious. I was wearing sleep shorts and a spaghetti strap tank, more than I’d wear to swim in, but suddenly it didn’t feel like enough. “It’s your boat, of course, you’re here,” I babbled. “I just didn’t expect you. Andrea said you were gone this afternoon. You didn’t eat with us. So …” My words trailed off. I looked around. Faint lights from some of the high up cliff houses twinkled in the dark and across the water behind him. Whatever peace I’d found up here was gone. I took one long last deep breath of abundant air. “So, I guess, um, I guess I’ll just go …”
“You know the origin of Marin means sailor or seafarer?” His accented voice was rough and soft, stopping me. His long legs, in shorts, were crossed at the ankle. His feet were bare. And the sight of them more than anything gave me an odd sense of intimacy.
I swallowed.
“And Joséphine … well, she was a wily and cunning empress.”
“Napoleon’s wife,” I confirmed, licking my lips nervously. The last few days he’d been cordial, if not that chatty, eating meals with Dauphine and me, but things felt different tonight. I also hadn’t really been alone with him. Dauphine was always around. Now that it was just us in the dead of night, it was painfully obvious what a good buffer she’d provided.
He raised his glass and took a long sip. There was no clinking of ice. He was drinking neat. “And so … you have a French name. A French name that would also imply you like the ocean. Yet, you are not French. And you hate boats.”
“Actually, I am descended from the French Huguenots,” I whispered, my voice seeming to have failed me. “My father spoke of our history all the time when I was a girl.”
He offered nothing but a cocked head.
“Trouble sleeping?” I asked, trying to change the subject, then inwardly cursed myself. I shouldn’t be trying to talk to him. Leave, Josie. Go back to bed. He was clearly in a mood.
“Trouble sleeping?” He echoed my question and gave a soft laugh. “Toujours,” he said. Always.
When I looked closer, he was far from predatory. He looked … beaten. Weighed down by sadness. He hid it well during the day. But here, now, I had an inkling I was seeing him in a way most people normally didn’t. His alone time. His solitude that he chose to spend looking at the stars and numbing himself with whiskey.
I stepped back toward the railing again and rested my elbows, leaning my weight back. My heart beat erratically in a way I hoped my relaxed posture hid. “Does the whiskey help?”
Waves lapped softly against the hull, the sound of the water soothing in the quiet night. I had no idea what time it was. Well after midnight, I was sure.
He didn’t seem inclined to answer.
I inhaled deeply. “After my father died, my mother … she would do this. I’d find her some nights when I was sneaking in the back door at three a.m., sitting alone at the window in the dark sunroom. Staring blindly, sipping neat.”
“Whiskey?”
I nodded.
“A woman who knows how to get the job done.” There was a long silence, then, “So you know what it’s like.”
“I do.” My throat suddenly felt crushed tight with remembered grief. When I could breathe again, I added, “It was a sudden heart attack. One day here. The next gone forever.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
I looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for yours.”
“How long will Dauphine remember?” he asked.
“Forever.”
He winced at my honest answer, so I hurried on. “But the pain gets less. She’s a bit younger than I was, so maybe it’s better. Less memories. I don’t know.” I turned my head so I couldn’t see the pain in his face and blinked. The black water glittered.
Xavier took a long and deep sip of his drink. The dull thud of his swallow seemed loud in our