Page 6 of The Cruise Back to You

“You really can’t remember?”

“I remember we had a great relationship.” The words come easier now, like a dam breaking. “We had so much in common. We laughed all the time. And the sex was⁠—”

Robin’s mouth curves into a small smile. “Amazing.”

“Yeah.” My chest aches at that smile. “Amazing.”

But then the smile fades and Robin looks away, out toward the dark water beyond the ship’s railing.

“I felt like you took us for granted,” he says quietly. “The small gestures stopped. The spontaneous fun stopped. Remember when you used to show up at the shop with lunch just because? Or when we’d drive up into the mountains on a random Tuesday just to watch the sunset?”

I remember. God, I remember.

“And we stopped talking about the future,” Robin continues. “About the next step. No more mentioning marriage or children. I thought you wanted those things too, Colter. I thought we were building toward something. But every time I tried to bring it up, you’d change the subject or get quiet, and I just …” He shrugs, a small, defeated movement. “I thought you didn’t want them anymore. That you didn’t want me anymore. Not like that.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“I wanted those things,” I say.

Robin looks at me sharply.

“I got so caught up in work,” I admit. “Building the business, trying to make sure we’d be financially secure before we took that step. I wanted to give you everything, Robin. A wedding, a house, kids—all of it. But I wanted to do it right. I wanted to be able to provide for our family.” I swallow hard. “I guess I forgot to tell you that. I forgot to tell you a lot of things. And by the time I realized what I was doing wrong, it was too late.”

Robin is silent for a long moment. The noise of the bar fades into the background, and it feels like we’re the only two people on this ship.

“Is it still too late?” I ask.

Robin’s jaw drops. “You want to get back together?”

“I don’t know.” The honesty feels raw, exposed. “I know that I miss you. Every day. I know that seeing your shop across the street is the best and worst part of my morning. I know that when that guy put his hands on you tonight, I wanted to throw him overboard.”

Robin almost smiles at that. Almost.

“Colter …” He shakes his head slowly. “It’s not a good idea. We have too much history. And holiday brain isn’t exactly the best state to make big decisions in. We’re on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean. This isn’t real life.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. But it doesn’t stop the disappointment from settling heavy in my chest.

“Okay,” I say. “Friends, then?”

He takes a deep breath and nods. “Friends. And I promise not to bolt every time I see you on the ship.”

“Deal.” I hold out my hand.

Robin looks at it for a moment, then shakes it. His palm is warm against mine, familiar.

“I should go back to my cabin,” he says, pulling his hand away. “It’s been a long day.”

“Let me walk you there.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “I’m a grown man, Colter.”

“You’ve also been drinking, and that guy from earlier might still be around.” I shrug, trying to keep my voice casual. “Just let me make sure you get back safe. Then I’ll leave you alone.”

For a second I think he’s going to argue. But then he nods.

“Fine.”

We walk in silence through the ship’s corridors, past the casino and the theater and the endless rows of cabin doors.