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“What?” Rachel whipped around to look at Alana. “Just...go talk to him?”
“Yeah. I don’t have to get on my plane for another few hours so if you need a bailout, I’m here. But I can hang back.”
“Go talk to him and what?”
Flirtation, living dangerously, living for the moment—that was all a part of a past so long gone it felt like it belonged to someone else entirely. The Rachel who had narrowly escaped humiliating herself and her family was gone. New Rachel had emerged from the wreckage. And New Rachel was a rule follower. A peacekeeper. She went with the flow and did what she could to keep everyone happy. To make sure she didn’t go too far over the line and miss the safety net her father provided for her.
But for some reason, standing there in the sunshine, thinking of the safety her father provided, of the stability she had with Ajax, she felt like she was drowning in the air. Felt like there was a noose tightening around her neck, the countdown to her execution looming....
Such drama, Rachel, it’s a wedding, not a hanging.
But even so, she felt like it was. Because the wedding presented her with utter, final certainty for her future. A future as Ajax’s wife. As New Rachel, the one who never created a ripple on the surface, for the rest of her life.
“You have got to go and talk to him,” Alana said. “You turned red when you first saw him. Like...really red. Like he lit your toes on fire.”
Rachel choked. “Dramatic much?”
“So okay, I’ve sat back and watched your engagement with Ajax, and I haven’t said much. But as you just said, you aren’t madly in love with him. And anyone with eyes sees that.”
“I know,” she said, her throat tightening.
“Look, I know we’re old and boring now. And I know that in high school we did some stupid stuff....”
“To say the least,” Rachel said.
Alana continued. “But I think you’ve gone a little bit too far the other way.”
“The alternative wasn’t any good.”
“Maybe not. But I think maybe this future isn’t so good, either.”
“What else can I do, Alana?” Rachel asked. “My dad bailed me out so many times, and I pushed him to the point where he was ready to wash his hands of me. And now? We’re close. We have a relationship. I make him proud. And if Ajax is the price I have to pay for that then...I accept it.”
“Does he at least make you feel like your toes have been lit on fire?”
Rachel looked at the man on the yacht again. “No,” she said, the word choked out. “He doesn’t.”
“Then I think you owe it to yourself to spend some time with a man who does.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I really do.”
“So...I should just go talk to him? Want to bet he curses me out in Greek and then goes back to work?”
Alana laughed. “Yeah, that won’t happen, Rach.”
“How do you know? Maybe he doesn’t like blondes.”
