Page 82 of A Perfect Disaster

Helen takes a slow breath.

“I don’t think our work has been affected,” she says. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“I won’t deny it, Helen. At least for now,” Julianne acknowledges, putting the tablet back in her briefcase. “But this position requires making very difficult and sometimes solitary decisions. And we made it clear to you from day one that there is only one opening available. Think it over carefully.”

The meeting ends a few minutes later with a cold handshake. Julianne bids us farewell with a couple of recommendations about the stopover in Cagliari. Helen leaves the conference room much quieter and more introspective than usual, and we walk toward a quiet area on deck.

“I can’t stand this feeling of being analyzed and judged every second,” she confesses.

“That’s just what they do when they sense danger,” I reply, standing beside her.

“Thanks for the emotional support. Always so optimistic,” she says sarcastically.

“That’s what I’m paid for.”

Just then, seeing the shadow of worry in her eyes, I make up my mind. I stand directly in front of her, blocking her path and forcing her to look me straight in the eye.

“I’ve been thinking a lot this morning, Helen. I’ve seen you preparing meetings at six in the morning in the cabin after… well, after we were physically exhausted for hours.”

Helen immediately turns as red as a tomato, looking away.

“Maika, please, we’re on deck…”

“No, listen to me carefully because I’m serious,” I cut her off, grabbing her by the lapels of her jacket so she can’t get away. “I’ve realized something. You need this job. I see it in your eyes every time you talk about it, about the future, about stability in your life… You need this promotion.”

Helen looks down, her jaw clenched.

“Maika…”

“I’ve decided I’m not going to fight for the position,” I declare.

She jerks her head up, as if I’d slapped her.

“What? Have you lost your mind?”

“No. I’m not going to compete against you, Helen. I’m withdrawing from the process. I don’t want to be the one standing between you and the dream you’ve been working your ass off for for years.”

Helen frowns, visibly shaken and angry at the same time.

“You can’t just make a decision this big on a whim, Maika. You’re damn good at what you do, too, and you deserve that spot just as much as I do.”

“I know, I’m fantastic—don’t remind me,” I admit with a cocky smile. “But the difference is that you need that spot to find peace. I… I just need other things to be happy. Things that don’t depend on an office on the mainland.”

Even though I can see she’s angry, I can’t help but stroke her cheek with my thumb.

“It’s enough for me to see you smile and sleep peacefully at night. For that, I’d be willing to set this whole ship on fire.”

27

Maika

Cagliari. Seventh day of the voyage.

The Marine IV docks in the port of Cagliari under a clear, bright blue sky that seems brand-new, as if created just to counter my negativity. From the promenade deck, as I watch the beautiful Sardinian city lazily awaken on its golden hills, I’m overcome by an absurd and idyllic sense of calm.

Although, of course, deep down I know I’m fooling myself. Fate never tires of messing with you; it just takes a break, sits down with a bag of popcorn, and waits for the most inopportune moment to trip you up and watch you take a nasty fall. But right this very moment I couldn’t care less, because I’m too busy enjoying the sea breeze.

At ten o’clock in the morning, taking advantage of the fact that we have a few free hours before the afternoon activities on board begin, we’re already roaming the cobblestone streets of Cagliari alongside the rest of the group. Gonzalo leads the expedition as if he’d been named honorary mayor of Italy, gesturing wildly and pointing out every Baroque facade. Nico walks beside him with his imposing SLR camera slung around his neck, snapping photos left and right. Meanwhile, Leo has been trying for twenty minutes to convince Lara to step into a small bottega selling local products, using his best charmer’s smile and increasingly outlandish arguments.