Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Why did she never show up to meet me at the airport like she'd promised?
Marco pulls me close, spooning me, my spine pressed against his chest. "You're saying I need backup."
"Exactly. And...I can be that for you."
"You can? But you don't get a vote, Filia."
"Not a proper one." Rocking into his muscles, I yawn into the pillows. "But if we work together, we can win. Do you believe me?"
Marco is quiet. I feel his breathing, hear his heartbeat. I wonder if he's fallen asleep or... worse...if he doesn't agree and is deciding how to tell me the truth.
"I've never believed something so much in all my life."
Tears well up in my eyes. If I wasn't confident when I'd uttered the words I love you before...
I am now.
Chapter Thirteen
There's nothing fresher than the scent of the sea.
The cruise set off just after dinner time. I was asleep for the launch and missed the meal. Now it's sunrise, and the deck is packed with guests in bikinis or loose polos, all of them enjoying bloody marys, mimosas, or something stronger.
I'm sipping a refreshing glass of freshly squeezed OJ, watching the waves below for signs of dolphins. Marco was gone when I woke up. He'd left me a letter––how novel––explaining he'd gone to the ship's gym to workout and think. I'd checked my phone after showering and changing to come up top. No messages from him, though there's definitely WiFi here. The boat is so nice it probably has better 5g than my apartment in downtown LA.
I could go find the gym, see if he's still there. No. He's coming up with a plan. He has a lot on his shoulders, I should give him space. Plus, I can use this time alone to figure out how I'll help him.
It felt great that he believed I could support him.
Now...I just needed to actually do that.
My stomach rumbles; I drain my glass of juice, turning to head for the interior. I bet they have an amazing breakfast buffet, if last night's offerings are any indication.
The wind blows my hair over my face, making it hard to see. I spit out a few strands that catch in my mouth.
"Hi, Filia!" Heratio calls. He's coming towards me, dressed in white Chinos, an open shirt that shows off his lean, shredded and tan torso, and Nike slides. It's casual, but somehow also expensive.
"Hey," I say when we come together. "What are you up to?"
He shrugs and looks out at the water. "Enjoying the peace before it's evaporated by the crushing pressure of responsibility. You?"
I laugh in surprise. "Oh, um. I was going to grab a bite to eat."
"Marco isn't with you?"
I shake my head. "Said he'd be at the gym."
"Wait. What time did you wake up?"
"Around 7, I think."
Heratio crinkles his brow and sighs. "Is he trying to kill himself by exertion?"
"Heratio, what are you talking about?" My stomach is getting a terrible pit in it. The words 'kill' and 'Marco' do not belong together.
Crossing his arms, Heratio shakes his head in disgust. "I saw him there about fifteen minutes ago when I was finishing my own workout. That means he's been in there for at least three hours."
I reel backwards in disbelief. "Why would he do that to himself?"
"Well, I knew he was stressed, we all are. But this is extreme. Whoa, hold up!" He blocks me as I try to rush past.
"Let me through! I have to stop him before he hurts himself!"
"Nope, no." Flexing his arms to make a bigger barrier, Heratio keeps getting in my way. It comes naturally to him, this easy speed. He must have played football or something. "Leave Marco to his thoughts. He does things his own way, don't intrude."
Gritting my teeth I finally stop trying to slip by. People are staring, but I ignore them. "I can't just wait around!"
"Sorry to say you're in the same boat as us. No pun intended." He manages a coy grin.
I'm annoyed, but the longer I brood, the more I see a new opportunity. Marco is burning himself out over this shareholder stuff. I said I'd help. In that case, shouldn't I be working as hard as him. "Fine. I'll leave him alone. In exchange, tell me about yourself."
His face goes slack; I caught him off guard. "Me? Why?"
"Marco didn't fill me in and I'm curious. Or I guess I could keep trying to sneak around you, if you prefer that."
He laughs. "I'm basically a living computer. I crunch numbers, data, statistics. Then I put all that junk in a blender, juice it out, and it makes us money."
"Interesting," I say. "So have you used your big juicer brain to figure out Marco is the logical choice for the shareholder role?"
All the airiness fades from his face. In this cautious, sharp mode, he reminds me of his oldest brother, Derek. "That has nothing to do with you."