Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Hot and heavy stuff happening with you two, huh?” I ask once we’re alone in my suite.
She waves away my statement. “Javier is merely someone to help me pass the time. Nothing serious. My god, look at all this! Oh, Twinings!” She says running toward the table where there’s a tin of assorted teabags waiting for her. “Oh, I could cry.”
“You two seemed serious last night in the club, dancing all over each other,” I point out, going in for some bacon now that I’ve satisfied my initial carb craving.
She chuckles as she goes about making her cup of tea. “Oh, that?” Again, she’s downplaying it. “It’s nothing. Just . . . he’s fun. That’s all. What about you and Phillip, huh?”
“Oh. ‘It’s nothing. Just, he’s fun.’” I throw her words back at her, and she sighs.
“We’re both doomed then.”
“Utterly.”
She holds up a plate filled with pastries. “Here, have a Danish. It looks delicious, and maybe it’ll distract us from these men.”
All in all, we have a good morning. Javier has to jet off and work for a little while, but Sienna and I hit the gym and work out after breakfast. Then we slip down to the spa to get our nails done. I go to pay them (unsure of my place on board this ship), and the lady behind the counter chuckles at me!
“Mr. Woodmont would have my job if I accepted your payment, Ms. Hughes,” she teases.
What in the world! How does she know? Did he send an all-staff email to them or something? Probably!
After Sienna and I part ways, it takes me a long time to figure out exactly what I want to wear to the pool. I have three bathing suits to choose from. I decide on the lavender one, which pairs nicely with a floral-patterned pareu that I knot at my waist. I braid my hair loosely enough that a few pieces slip free and frame my face. I draw the line at wearing wedges or heels to the pool deck. I will not break my ankle for the benefit of slightly elongated legs. Strappy sandals will have to do.
I reach for my laptop and phone to stow them in my pool bag, but on second thought, I leave them both behind instead. While it’s tempting to immediately jump into strategizing about my future prospects, I want to take the next two days to decompress and settle into my current life. Scrolling through Indeed before I really know what I’m looking for will just lead me toward applying for another job I’ll end up hating. While my savings aren’t anything to brag about, they can keep me afloat for a little while if I’m careful with spending. It’ll be hard to return to real life as I know it once I disembark from Aurelia. No more free food and beverages? No more complimentary laundry service and maid service and turndown service? You mean, I can’t take my butler with me? What’s a girl to do?
Maybe I’ll shove as much food in my bag as I can before I leave the ship on Tuesday. Ha! Kidding. (Mostly.)
Instead of my laptop and phone, I take my paperback and my sunscreen.
I’m early, so I’m not surprised I beat Phillip to the pool area. I walk around, looking for free lounge chairs. Since we’re cruising today to our last port in the Cayman Islands, everyone’s on board the ship and making full use of its amenities. The pool is packed, and the loungers all have either warm bodies occupying them or are otherwise claimed with towels and bags. At first, I don’t bother going toward the exclusive area that’s cordoned off with red velvet rope. I’ve never been a VIP, exclusive, by-invite-only kind of gal. Then I remember who I’m quasi-dating for the remainder of this cruise, and I could thunk my forehead. Of course he’d ensure I have a place to sit. Or at least the people he employs would ensure it. There are two lounge chairs with a sign posted near them:
RESERVED FOR CASEY HUGHES
Well, isn’t that convenient.
The moment—and I mean down to the millisecond—I touch my lounge chair, a champagne bucket is delivered, a fruit tray is brought, a snack basket is set out, and an umbrella is popped open.
Two attendants smile at me. “Can we get you anything else at the moment, Ms. Hughes?”
I get the feeling that if I asked for an elephant or even, hell, a family of elephants, they wouldn’t bat an eye. Right away. And would you prefer African or Asian?
“I’m all set, thank you, both.” I squint to read their name tags. “Elise and Danielle, you’ve both been very helpful. Thank you.”
You know what’s funny about all this? Playing at being rich is so stressful. Like, do I tip them? I don’t have a single dollar on me. My wallet is back in my suite, and it’s filled with cobwebs and spare buttons. Also, like, I know they set out the food and champagne, but do I open the champagne bottle, or do I ask them to do it?