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“She was sixteen,” I say. “I had to stop Dad from getting his shotgun.”
“It was one kiss,” he scolds. “She might have been only sixteen, but she was wearing this bikini that was…” He trails off as I raise my eyebrows. “Anyway, it was her fault. I said no, but she was all young and… tempting,” he finishes, somewhat lamely.
“Actually, I believe you,” I tell him. “She’s always been a minx.” I tap my bottle to his. “Come on. Let’s see whether Mack’s managed to dunk Sidnie yet.”
It turns out that he has, and now the two of them are dancing in the middle of the pool, kissing occasionally, bathed in the warm April sun. Usually, when Mack’s away from his laptop he gets a twitch in one eye and a thousand-mile stare, but today he looks deliriously happy, as if work couldn’t be further from his mind. I never thought he’d be like that with a woman. I feel a deep and uncharacteristic stab of envy that he managed to get his girl.
I stop at the edge of the pool and look over at Elizabeth, letting my gaze linger for a while, as she’s not looking at me. She’s lying on a sun lounger, reading a book, dressed only in her skimpy bikini. Jesus. It shouldn’t be allowed. I wish I was her boyfriend, and I could go over to her, kneel by her side, and offer to rub sun lotion into her soft skin. I wish I could kiss her, and dance with her in the pool, and have people compliment us on how happy we look.
But it’s not meant to be, and so I turn away and begin going around seeing if anyone wants a drink, and try to put her to the back of my mind.
Chapter Eighteen
Elizabeth
The first day on board the yacht passes smoothly. Around six, we gravitate indoors to the saloon for dinner, and I’m awed by the amazing buffet the crew have put on—platters filled with freshly caught fish and seafood, cured meats, and a variety of gorgeous salads, as both Mack and Sidnie are vegetarians.
Afterward, we move back out onto the deck for more swimming, conversation, champagne drinking, and dancing, as the music is turned up, and the sun begins to sink behind the land to the west.
Huxley’s avoiding me. It’s quite obvious to me, although I don’t know if anyone else has picked up on it. He’s not cold, exactly, and he includes me in the conversation, and is quick to get me another drink or anything else I might need. But our usual teasing camaraderie is gone, and he spends most of the time on the other side of the pool, or off mingling with the guests.
I should have expected it, but it makes me sad. I can’t rant and rail at him though, because it’s all my fault. I suspected this would happen if we slept together. Two people can’t turn off their passion for one another like a tap and not expect consequences. I’ve hurt him badly, and I’ve made things ten times more difficult for myself. And in the end, it was all for nothing. Now I’m tortured with memories of that one night, and I don’t even have a baby to show for my misery.
But it’s done, and there’s no point in crying about it. I just have to get through the next couple of days as best as I can, and then I can bury myself in work and keep any contact between the two of us to a minimum.
It would be easier if I just stayed in my cabin, but this is Mack’s wedding, and I don’t want to be a stick-in-the-mud. So I pin a smile on my face, join in the conversation, and do my best not to look as if I’m missing my left arm every time Huxley sees me and turns the other way.
It doesn’t make it easier that he looks so gorgeous. He’s lost a little weight over the past few weeks, which concerns me, especially when I see the faint shadows under his eyes, but he’s still easily the most gorgeous guy on the yacht. He spends most of the afternoon bare-chested in his swim shorts, and honestly the guy has such a fantastic physique that it makes me feel a little faint. Those muscular arms and amazing biceps a girl could sink her teeth into… And those legs… all tanned and muscled. And his flat stomach with that happy trail of hair disappearing into his shorts… And the way he walks around as if he owns the place, with those sunglasses and his sexy smile. Does he know how good he looks? Of course he fucking does. He’s doing it on purpose to show me what I’m missing, I’m sure of it.
But we keep our distance, and I pass the evening talking to Caro and Hana, and Victoria and Evie, as we all gradually get drunk on champagne while we watch Mack and Sidnie dancing together on the deck.
“I’m so jealous,” I announce when I’ve had far too much to drink. “They’re far too happy. It shouldn’t be allowed. Happiness should be doled out proportionately.”
“Aw,” Hana says, “we need to get you a date.”
“You might stand more of a chance if you don’t sit talking to four lesbians all night,” Evie points out, causing us all to dissolve into giggles.
“The pickings are a bit slim this weekend,” Victoria states. “Not many single guys.”
“What about Titus?” Caro asks. “He seems nice. And he’s gorgeous.”
“Too moody,” I reply. “He’s like the Dark Knight without the cape.”
“Or Huxley?” Hana suggests. “He’s single, isn’t he?”
I just sigh.
“Oh yeah,” Evie says, “I keep meaning to ask. How did the trip go?”
I roll my head to look over at him. He’s sitting talking to Mack’s colleagues, Cherry, Eoin, and Kai and his wife. He’s changed into a blue-and-white-quartered polo shirt and cream chinos. As I watch, he picks up a navy-blue sweater and pulls it on, briefly revealing a strip of tanned skin on his stomach as he lifts his arms before he tugs the sweater down.
“Amazing,” I say, and sigh again.
“What’s this?” Caro and Hana ask together.
“Elizabeth wants a baby,” Victoria states. “They went away for the night and Hux tried to knock her up, but it didn’t work.”
“That’s the most depressing one-sentence summary of my life I can imagine,” I tell her, and they all laugh.
