Exiting my cabin, I quickly glanced in at Dauphine. She lay almost sideways across her bed, covers all kicked off, gangly legs off the edge, and her fingers clutched tight around the trunk of Babar the Elephant. I smiled and shook my head. I’d move her when I came back down.

I slipped silently upstairs, level after level, pulled by the fresh night air I could almost taste. Stepping out onto the top deck, I was met with a night sky that had exploded in black ink and diamonds. I breathed out a soft, “Wow,” and filled my lungs again, more consciously this time as I crept forward toward the railing and the velvet darkness where the horizon lay. Xavier was right, out here on the ocean one could really breathe the easiest. The deepest. Especially at night. I concentrated on my breathing, in through my nose, out through my mouth. Trying to get my fill. My hands gripped the railing.

After a few minutes, I tilted my head back and tried to make out familiar constellations, wondering how different they’d be from what I saw back home. France was also in the Northern hemisphere so technically, I should be able to make out familiar patterns.

As my eyes drew more accustomed, I could see the cloudy swath of the milky way start to take on more definition and pick out some individual stars.

A breeze picked up and lifted the small hairs on my arms. The scent of salt spray, teak oil, and eucalyptus danced on the breeze with notes of smokey scotch. Scotch?

My skin prickled. The back of my neck specifically.

I whipped around and gasped.

My eyes, now accustomed to the dark, made out the long form of a man reclining on a lounger.

Xavier cradled a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand on his abdomen, his other behind his head. His eyes watched me, lazily. Like a very, very, attentive jungle cat.

The sight of him made my mouth go instantly dry and shattered the peaceful relief I’d found. “W-what are you doing here?” I asked, lamely. And how long had he been watching me?

There was such a long pause, I became self-conscious. I was wearing sleep shorts and a spaghetti strap tank, more than I’d wear to swim in, but suddenly it didn’t feel like enough. “It’s your boat, of course, you’re here,” I babbled. “I just didn’t expect you. Andrea said you were gone this afternoon. You didn’t eat with us. So …” My words trailed off. I looked around. Faint lights from some of the high up cliff houses twinkled in the dark and across the water behind him. Whatever peace I’d found up here was gone. I took one long last deep breath of abundant air. “So, I guess, um, I guess I’ll just go …”