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“Oh, I couldn't do that,” she says, biting down on her lower lip.
“Why not?” I ask gently, not wanting to push.
“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “I guess I’m afraid of being judged or rejected or ridiculed. I guess I’m afraid of failing.” Her voice lowers even more to a barely audible whisper. “And, what if I do and people hate them? What if they think I’m stupid? What if I just get laughed at or I get bad reviews?”
I lower my voice too. “Use a pen name. Who cares what anyone says? Life is too short to regret what you didn't do. Besides, what happens if people absolutely love your work, and you get five-star reviews and a huge following of people desperate for more of your stories?”
I can tell by the way her eyes light up that she'd never even considered that possibility. “You really think that could happen?”
I nod my head. “I'm not going to pretend like I know you better than I do, but I can tell you have a way with words because of how you speak to me and the stories you tell about your life. There’s something so full of life and exciting about how you frame the world, and I’m sure readers would see that too.”
I can see the sheen of tears in her eyes and instantly feel bad. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.”
She laughs and let’s go of my hand to fan at her eyes while looking up at the ornate wooden ceiling. “No, these are happy tears. But if I start crying my nose will run and my face will get red and trust me, it’s not a flattering look.”
She has no idea that I find her beautiful inside now.
“So tell me something about yourself, something no one else knows.” I know she's trying to shift gears in this conversation. But my mind immediately snaps back to the one thing that I know that no one else does.
“I believe that someone at my work was murdered, but the cops are convinced that no crime was committed.” Her expression of shock following my words leaves me wondering if I should have imparted some other secret.
“Okay, well, I love to solve a mystery, so we need to get to the bottom of this. Tell me everything you know.” Her expression is so earnest I can't help but chuckle as I pat her knee.
“I don't think we have enough time for that, even if we spent an entire week discussing the details.” I'm not kidding when I say that I've put everything into trying to expose the truth.
Her gaze darts back and forth between mine. “Okay, Mr. Damien, you have me hooked. We’re going to solve this thing together. First, who died?”
My heart twists and contracts in my chest.
Her eyes narrow slightly as concern floods her features. “You knew the victim, didn’t you?”
That's one way to look at things.
But before she can ask me any further questions, her phone rings and she pull it out of her purse with an apologetic smile in my direction. “Sorry, I'm just going to see who it is.” But as she looks down at her phone, her eyebrows furrow and she seems confused. She answers the phone call, her eyes on me.
“Hello?”
I nod at her, wanting to be polite and let her have privacy if she needs it, and she offers a wobbly smile, slides off her stool and begins to wander toward the door. I can't make out what she's saying, but it's none of my business. I’ll be here if she needs support when she’s done with the call.
A few moments later she wanders back, staring down at her phone as she slides into her seat. When she finally lifts her gaze to me, I see shock in her eyes as she speaks.
“Jake hasn’t called because he’s in jail. He just asked me to come home and bail him out.”
Chapter Five
Zoe
I swear I'm still in a little bit of a fog thanks to yesterday’s bombshell news.
Today is the last day of the cruise and I am determined not to think about Jake at all. The Jake who's now in jail. The Jake who can't hurt me anymore. The Jake who thought that I would just cut my trip short and come home to bail him out after he landed himself in trouble. I don't even care what he did to wind up in jail. I'm comforted by the fact that he's not my problem anymore and it's not my responsibility to save him.
There's something so freeing about that realization.
I'm determined to enjoy myself today and have fun. And I already have a plan - I’m going to spend the day with Damien.
I close my eyes for a moment and remember the way his gaze locked on me over drinks as we sat at the bar together. I had asked him what his plans for our last day on the cruise were, thinking he’d have some events lined up and planned out to really capture the magic for that final run. I imagined he'd want to catch up on everything he felt he missed while working through the first part of the journey.
I had been surprised when he told me that his plans were variable and dependent on me.
