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“Yes,” I agree, turning to kiss Blake. “Are you sure that’s alright?”
“I’ll try not to get too lonely,” he says with a laugh, though I sense a bit of hesitation. “Just…be good, okay?”
“I’ll keep her out of trouble,” Florence promises with a wink before wrapping her arms around Patton and placing a kiss on his lips.
I look away. “I won’t be out too late, okay?”
“Don’t worry. You two have fun,” Blake says, squeezing my arm gently as another yawn escapes his lips. “Call if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine. I’ll see you in a few hours.” I watch him walk away, waving goodbye with a final look and then turn to lock my arm with Florence’s. “Lead the way.”
PART2
CHAPTERSEVEN
BLAKE
When I wake up, there’s a sour taste in my mouth and my neck is stiff. I roll over, extending my leg out of the covers to cool my blazing skin. Stretching my arms above my head with a low groan, I reach for her.
My hand connects only with the sheet.
The mattress.
Pillows.
Not Mae.
I open my eyes, searching her side of the bed.
The empty side.
I sit up quickly, looking around the room, listening for the sounds of the shower or her in the bathroom.
“Babe?” I call, wiping sleep from my eyes. I tap the phone on my nightstand. It’s just after eight in the morning, and there are no calls or texts from her. I panic, trying to remember if she had a room key with her last night, as I picture her locked out in the hallway. It’s ridiculous, of course. Our lanyards hold our key cards, and if she was locked out, she would’ve called or gotten help from our steward.
I cross the room, trying to make sense of my fuzzy memory. There’s no light coming from under the bathroom door, but I push it open anyway, checking for her. When I don’t find her, I open the door to our room and check the hallway, just in case.
Nothing.
She’s not there.
I shut the door and turn back around. Her shoes aren’t near the bed, and I don’t see her purse anywhere. Is it possible she didn’t come back last night?
I push out a long, steady breath and cross the room to grab my phone, where I dial her number. It goes straight to voice mail, and my stomach drops.
Okay. Okay. Don’t panic.
I send her a text.
Did you not come back last night?
We’re supposed to have Wi-Fi calling on board, but it’s not always reliable. I open the cruise line’s app and send her a message that way, too. Just in case this one can be monitored by the company, I do my best to make myself sound slightly less paranoid. Less dramatic.
Hey. Where are you?
I pace the room for five excruciating minutes, running through every possibility in my mind before I pull on my shoes and head down the hallway toward Florence’s room. Maybe the girls fell asleep on the upper deck. Maybe they got up for an early breakfast. Maybe she passed out in Florence’s room.
Anything but the worst.
