“Oh.” There was nothing else to say.

He leant down and tenderly pressed his lips to mine. It almost felt like a first kiss, tentative and sweet. As the sweetness gave way to something more intense, rawer, I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. His hands moved from my arms to my waist, pulling me closer. I could feel him hard against me, wanting me. “We’re skipping the launch,” he said, his forehead pressed against mine. I nodded, speechless, blinking away the tears in my eyes.

He wants me. He loves me.

Then we made an utter mess of that perfectly made, Hugh Hefner bed.

*

The afternoon was just incredible. Yes, we missed the launch, but the scenery as we sailed the sound—they did put the sails up!—was breathtaking, or rather, breath-giving. The air was so fresh, so clean, I could taste it, and I inhaled great gulps of it, clearing my head of all the niggling and nasty thoughts from the night before.

The surface of the water undulated, never breaking, but seeming to move politely aside as the boat made its way into the folds of the sound. The water changed colour seamlessly, nature’s depth gauge revealed in the colours of precious stones—sapphire, malachite, and aquamarine. Siobhan would love this, I thought.

The mountains rising from the depths of the water were conical and a rich, velvety green, like the kind of mountains small children draw. Where the green gave way to roughly hewn, inky rock, waterfalls fell from great heights, some bridal veils, some brilliant white ponytails, all meeting the water of the sound in halos of mist. There was no need for talking—a shared look said it all—but I did take dozens of photographs.

Dinner was a communal buffet, which was far more fun than it sounds. We sat opposite each other at a long table, eating roast beef and crispy potatoes, with steamed pudding for dessert. The menu was straight out of my grandmother’s playbook circa 1980-something and I loved every bite. We chatted about the day, the incredible things we’d seen, and were engaged in conversation a few times by other couples and a father and son who were travelling together for his seventieth birthday.

One woman referred to James as my husband—isn’t it odd when people just assume things like that?—and I glanced at him to see if he’d heard. He didn’t seem to have; he was talking to her husband about yachts. I’d almost forgotten that James had owned a yacht. Then that made me think of Duncan, and I indulged in a little nostalgic moment where I missed him and wondered if I’d ever get to see him and Gerry again.

And as James hadn’t heard, I didn’t correct the woman about being married to him. A sliver of me enjoyed it; it was like trying on a pair of heels that were way higher than I’d normally wear, but made me feel super sexy.

After dinner, the cruise director—that may not have been her actual job title, but in my mind, she was Julie like on The Love Boat—announced it was time for games, and she meant board games.