His deep, rich laughter after spotting a sea turtle while we snorkeled along Isabela Island made my stomach somersault. Then yesterday, on Santa Fe Island, his hand brushed mine as we hiked beneath prickly pears down a dusty path, and it was like a burst of oxygen to a smoldering flame. I nearly combusted.

Nights aren’t any better. I lay in bed, laptop open to a planning doc full of notes from my brainstorming sessions with Walsh, imagining him in his cabin on the other side of the wall… and how easy it would be to knock on his door.

I’m well on my way to losing the bet, and at this point, I’m not even sure I care.

When the sixth day of the cruise arrives, my jaw is stiff from clenching. It’s been three days since our kiss and I’m twitchier than a thief in church. Walsh and I opt to eat breakfast outside on the covered deck. Graeme wasn’t in the dining room and he’s not out here either; I don’t know whether to smash my plate against the wall or melt into a puddle of relief.

We spend the first fifteen minutes debriefing from the previous day. I methodically record Walsh’s impressions of the cruise—what she likes, what she wishes were different, what would make her want to travel with us again.

When we’re done, I pull out my notebook. The pages have filled since talking to Captain Garcia on the bridge. After picking Xiavera’s brain about invasive species on the islands, I’ve circled words like “unique wildlife,” “connecting with nature,” and “wonder,” but I’m still not sure how they might all fit together for a digital marketing proposal.

Walsh’s phone dings. It’s become so constant I barely notice it anymore. Conversations drone around us along with the hum of the ship’s engine. I polish off my croissant and wash it down with a gulp of orange juice before returning to my notebook. A stiff breeze lifts the corner of the top page and I smooth it down.

Walsh nudges my forearm. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“You weren’t listening, were you?”

“Sorry. I was thinking about work. Maybe we should add more interactive content to the website? Or maybe we could find a way to tap into influencer networks better…”

Walsh tips her chin and folds her arms across her chest.

I close my notebook and brace my elbows on the table. “Go on. You have my full attention.”

“What are you going to do when we get back to Seattle?” she asks.

That’s a weird question. “Same old. Work. Classes. What about you? Have you heard any more about those jobs you applied for before we left?”