Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Look,” Oliver says, cocking his head towards me and resting his arm on the back of the couch. “I just want to give you two a chance to create some beautiful memories. And also I want to prove to you that you’re wrong about boats. They’re safe and fun and you’re missing out. And if at any point, you want to come back to shore, just say the word and we’ll go, no questions asked.”
“How far away will we be?” I ask.
“Three hours, max,” he says.
Glancing at Slade, I lift my brows.
“I think it could be fun,” he says. “If all we have to do is show up, I mean …”
I sigh, not wanting to be the cog in the wheel. “You’re sure it’s safe?”
Slade frowns, “Do you honestly think I’d put us in any kind of danger?”
“Feel free to check out my safety ratings and inspection records,” Oliver says. “If I were some slime bag renting out dilapidated scows, do you think I’d still be in business? Hell, I wouldn’t even be insurable.”
I hate this idea. I do. But if Slade comes, maybe it won’t be so bad.
“Fine,” I say. “But only if there’s an endless supply of seasickness tablets on board and you show me how to use all the safety equipment.”
“I’ll give you the full rundown before we depart,” Oliver promises. “We won’t leave until you feel confident about everything.”
Maybe I’m overreacting, but growing up off the coast of Maine, you hear so many boating horror stories—that compounded with my grandfather’s freak accident gives me pause.
Oliver rubs his hands together, grinning from ear to ear. I’m pretty sure we just made this man’s entire year.
“All right,” he says, “so why don’t you two meet me at the Gas Lantern Marina Friday, slip number fourteen, say around noon? I’ll have you back by Sunday.” Rising, he turns to me, “It gets a little cold on the water at night, so pack some sweaters.”
I salute him. “Yes, First Officer Oliver.”
“It’s actually Captain Oliver,” he corrects me.
Slade rolls his eyes.
“Okay, I’m out. I’ve got some things to line up for our trip,” Oliver says. “You two lovebirds get plenty of rest and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“I hope I don’t regret this,” I tell Slade when he’s gone.
My husband tugs me into his lap, runs his fingers through my hair, and leans in to kiss me. “I thought he’d never leave.”
“Wait, did you only agree to this whole yacht thing because you wanted Oliver to leave?” I ask.
“No …”
I squint. “Mm hm.”
Slade chuckles. “No, seriously. I didn’t. I think it’ll be a nice little weekend getaway. And maybe it won’t be the worst thing for you to get over your fear of boats, especially living here.”
Dozens of old stories from back home flick through my mind like microfiche at a library.
“If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to go,” he says, and with his words the excitement that was radiating off of him a few moments ago grows dim.
“We’ll go,” I say. I don’t want to, but I’ll do it for him.
If Slade can get over his fear of opening up, I can get over my fear of open water.
35
Slade
“So what happens if we break down?” Campbell asks as Oliver gives us the safety tour Friday afternoon. We’ve only been on his yacht twenty minutes so far, and she’s yet to let go of anything. When she’s not holding onto a railing, she’s holding onto me for dear life. I almost feel bad insisting we do this, but I think it’ll be good for her.
“I’ve got a Zodiac Nautic on board,” Oliver says. “It’s an inflatable dinghy that fits three people. That or I could call the Coast Guard or one of my guys at the boathouse. I promise you, Campbell, there’s no getting stranded out here.”
She eyes the open deck of the stern. “It’s weird how it’s just … open.”
“Well, you don’t use it when the ship is moving,” I tell her. “It’s meant for lounging and sunbathing when you’re stationary.”
My explanation does nothing to get the horrified look off her face, but she’s yet to declare she’s getting off, so that’s a good sign.
“Let me show you your accommodations,” Oliver motions for us to follow him to the lower level of the yacht, where a cozy yet well-appointed bedroom is flanked by an en suite bathroom. On the other side of the ship is a smaller bedroom and bathroom as well as a full kitchen. “Anything you need, anything at all … I’ve already thought of it.”
He leads us to the kitchen, where he yanks open the fridge and shows us the pre-made meals, snacks, Evian waters, and adult beverages he’s stocked.
“Okay, so we went over the safety protocols, I showed you where the life vests are and the satellite phone and how to use the radio in case of an emergency,” Oliver counts off his fingers. “Am I forgetting anything?”