Xavier was going to win back Josie. I grinned and clapped my hands. “He has been grumpy without her. More so than usual.” I’d hardly seen Xavier since he and Dauphine hadn’t come back to the boat after the “incident” with her uncle, although the uncle was claiming it was a misunderstanding. In the panic of everything that had happened, I think Xavier blamed Josie, and it had broken them.

The thought that he was suffering from missing Josie was extremely satisfying. He shouldn’t have let her go to begin with. “He didn’t say a word to me about it tonight,” I said. “But you’re right, he’s been a real bear recently. Even more than you,” I added.

Evan’s eyes narrowed and he looked around my cabin, noting the suitcase packed on the bed. “Why does him being a grumpy arse make you so giddy?” he asked.

“Because I was hoping he would go get her,” I answered. “Why does it make you so scowly? Josie is one thousand percent in love with him, and he with her, and they both deserve happiness.” I let out a quiet squeal. This was so great. I wanted to call her. “Does she know?”

“No. So don’t call her yet. I never knew you to be such a romantic.”

I scoffed lightly. “I never knew you to be such a love grinch.”

“A love grinch?”

“Yes. Sometimes I think your heart is two sizes too small.” I’d gone for a teasing tone but somehow missed as a strange look passed over his face. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “That was a dumb thing to say. I definitely didn’t mean it. And I don’t think it. I just think everyone deserves happiness if they can find it. And not everyone can.” I swallowed. I should know. “So—”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t?”

“Do you?”

“Think everyone deserves happiness? Yes. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“I don’t know actually. After nine years, you still confuse me. Some days you are like a cyborg. Utterly unflappable. Like right now. Your questions tell me I hurt your feelings, but,” I waved my hand in front of his face, indicating his expression, “nothing.”

Belatedly remembering the apple in his hand he brought it up to his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. “You think I don’t have feelings?”

“Do you?” I cocked my head.

He stared at me, his hazel eyes going through a kaleidoscope of greens and browns. His nostrils flared as he inhaled.

I held his gaze, wine making me braver, and it was like holding my hand to the fire.

“So fucking many,” he said finally. He peeled his gaze off mine and turned to leave but paused at the door, looking once more at the suitcase on the bed. “Why are you really leaving?”

“What do you mean?”