Page 11 of The Cruise Back to You

“Yeah?”

“Software.” He leans back in his chair, and I can see the excitement building in his expression. “You know how small businesses in Pine Ridge always need extra help but can’t afford permanent staff?”

I nod. I know it well. I have the same problem during busy seasons when I’m out all day with clients and would love someone to do all the admin I end up doing when I go home in the evening.

“So I built this platform. Businesses register the help they need—hours, days, even months—and people looking for work can apply and match. That way, someone who can only work twenty hours a week can still find consistent opportunities, and businesses get the flexibility they need.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“It’s not exactly innovative,” Robin admits. “Gig economy apps exist. But here’s the difference. When a business accepts someone through the platform, they pay a pro rata fee that covers the worker’s benefits. Health insurance, paid vacation—all of it. The software calculates everything automatically so the businesses don’t have to figure it out themselves.”

He’s talking faster now, the way he always does when he’s passionate about something.

“People with young kids at home, or people caring for elderly parents, or anyone who just wants flexible work shouldn’t be treated differently than someone with a permanent job. They deserve the same protections.” Robin shrugs. “Anyway. It’s still in development. But I’ve got a few businesses in Pine Ridge willing to test it out when it’s ready.”

I stare at him.

This man. This incredible, thoughtful, brilliant man. He saw a problem in his community and built a solution. Not for profit, not for recognition, but because he genuinely cares about people.

This is the moment I know I’m not just still in love with Robin.

I’ve never been more in love with him than I am right now.

“What?” Robin asks, shifting under my gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.” I clear my throat. “Do you want to go dancing?”

“Dancing?”

“There’s a party on the top deck tonight with a live deejay.” I stand up and offer him my hand. “Come on. When’s the last time we went dancing?”

Robin looks at my hand, then at me, but whatever is making him hesitate is gone when he takes my hand and lets me pull him to his feet.

“Let’s go.”

The top deck is transformed.

String lights crisscross overhead, and the deejay is playing something with a heavy beat that vibrates through the floor. People are everywhere—dancing, drinking, laughing under the stars. The energy is infectious, and when Robin grabs my hand and pulls me into the crowd, I let him.

We dance.

It’s awkward at first. We’re both out of practice, and there’s a self-consciousness between us that wasn’t there before. But then a song we both know comes on, something from years ago when we first started dating, and Robin laughs and throws his hands up and suddenly it’s like no time has passed at all.

We used to do this all the time. Back when we first met, before responsibilities and routines took over. We’d drive to Denver just to go to a club, dance until two in the morning, and fall into bed together in a cheap hotel.

I’d forgotten how much I missed it.

The songs blur together. We get closer without meaning to, drawn into each other’s orbit like gravity. Robin’s hand finds my waist. My hand finds the back of his neck. We’re barely dancing anymore, just swaying together, foreheads almost touching.

His eyes are so green in the string lights. So familiar. So beautiful.

“Colter,” he says. I can’t hear him over the music, but I can read my name on his lips.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t answer. He just looks at me, and I look at him, and the music fades to nothing.

Then we’re kissing.