Page 44 of The Awful Truth

Yet, this morning, as she carried the tray through the dimly lit room, she couldn’t help but think about her conversation with Miguel the day before. And she knew something had shifted. It was like a small flame was lit in her gut and she couldn’t blow it out. She couldn’t stop the whisper inside that she should have a voice in her own life. Otherwise, what was she really? Just another servant. But better that than a prisoner.

She set the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, then went to brush her teeth to give herself another moment alone before she woke him. Two minutes later, she gently placed her hand on his forearm. “Darling, the sun is up.”

Travis let out a groan and swatted her hand away.

Her heart pounded a little and she considered just sliding back into bed and going to sleep again. But she knew better. “Travis, sweetie, you wanted to leave at dawn for fishing, remember?”

“Don’t wanna go yet,” he mumbled.

“All right. Should I let Oliver and Ted know?”

He grunted. “No. I don’t want them to know I’m tired.”

She stood next to the bed, bleary-eyed, wanting to scream in his ear, “WHAT DO YOU WANT THEN?” Instead, she drew a deep breath, then whispered, “All right. I’ll tell them you’re caught up with work.”

Turning over, he mumbled, “Whatever. Just lemme sleep.”

After a moment, he said, “I’m too hot. Were you sleeping on me again? You know I hate that.”

She stood, realizing for the first time that the bottoms of her feet weren’t freezing like they usually were on the yacht. This likely meant something was wrong, but she wasn’t about to tell him that at this hour. “No, I wasn’t. You’re probably hot from all that sun yesterday.”

He grunted and turned over, putting an end to a conversation she didn’t want to have.

Mercy quickly changed from her nightgown to a pair of linen pants and a tank top, then exited the room carrying her flip flops so they wouldn’t wake Travis, who was already snoring again.

As soon as she was in the hallway, she put on her shoes and leaned against the door, stuffing her exhausted fury deep down inside. Putting a smile on her face, she went in search of Captain Ben to inform him that the fishing trip would be delayed.

Mercy found the captain on the bridge. His face lit up when he saw her. “Ah, Signora Mercy, good morning!”

“It’s not even six a.m. To me this is still the night before,” she said, leaning against the door jamb. “I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Bishop has gotten caught up with his work, so this morning’s fishing trip is going to be delayed, likely by a few hours.”

“Very good. I’ll radio Oliver to let him know and have him inform the other guests.”

“Thank you, Ben.” She started to walk out, then remembered Travis complaining about the heat. “Is it possible to turn up the air conditioning? It’s a little warmer in our suite than my husband likes it.”

He offered her a confident smile, but there was something about it she didn’t believe. “The air conditioning system seems to be struggling a little, but not to worry. Oliver is taking care of it as we speak.”

“Good, because with this heat, we’re going to need it.”

8:07 A.M.

ANTONIA

Antonia’s cell phone sat on her thigh, on vibrate mode so she would know the moment Enid wrote back. She was seated in the exact same spot as the first dinner on the yacht, only this morning she was wearing dark sunglasses to hide her puffy red eyes. Ted, the traitor, sat to her left, so she found herself instinctively leaning to her right, which must have felt somewhat intrusive to Winslow. Miguel was sleeping in, and obviously so was Travis, even though Mercy was pretending a work emergency came up. It wouldn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out the man was hungover and likely had sunstroke.

Charlotte, the other traitor, was on one of the chairs across from Ted (both of them obviously trying to ignore each other).

Was this part of the thrill for them? To fornicate, then pretend they barely knew each other when she was around? She brushed off the torturous questions, knowing that her mind was going to do this for months to come if she let it. She glanced down at her phone, willing Enid to contact her already.

The breakfast spread was laid out on the bar top, buffet-style, and Antonia, who was ravenous even though she was also sick with grief, had already managed to put away a large slice of quiche, a bowl of cut up honeydew, and some bacon. She was just pulling off a piece of croissant to pop in her mouth when Mercy, who was sitting next to Charlotte, held up a jar of marmalade. “Ooh, try this on your croissant. It’s divine.”

Antonia took it from her. “Thank you,” she said in a low tone.

Mercy tilted her head. “Are you all right this morning?”

No, Mercy, I am not. I’ve never felt worse. “I’m good. Just…a little jet lag I think.”

Jet lag and a night spent curled up on her side silently crying. Ted had come back to their suite just after two a.m. She laid awake facing the window, tears soaking her pillow while she listened to him shower, then felt him get into bed. Her body immediately filled with a deep, throbbing rage, her mind shouting at her to turn over and start kicking him with everything she had (and at that point, it would’ve been a lot). But Enid’s words were a mantra in her head: Do nothing. Act normal.