After several long seconds he pulls away. We tuck into dinner. Crew members come around with bottles of wine, topping off glasses, and the volume of happy chatter rises. At the next table over, Doug and Analisa are sitting with a handful of the oldest guests. Doug’s hand covers hers on the table, his thumb stroking her knuckles. What easy tenderness. Why can’t things be easy with Graeme?

I swallow a bite of pork.

Why can’t things be easy with Graeme?

Maybe I need to do what Walsh suggested and simply focus on the now. So what if I don’t know how things will turn out tomorrow or the next day? It doesn’t change the way I feel about Graeme right now, in this moment. And he said he’s willing to keep any relationship between us quiet. It comes down to… do I trust him?

Yes. Undeniably.

As plates empty and glasses are refilled, the ocean swallows the sun in a wash of hazy purples and pinks. Another glass of wine later, someone taps my shoulder.

“It is time for us to leave,” says Analisa from directly behind me. “Thank you again for everything.” She brushes her cheek against mine.

Standing, I edge around my chair and lower my voice. “How did it go?”

“Astounding. Absolutely astounding,” Doug chimes in. He hands me a stack of donation cards. His eyes are wide and almost dazed, and I don’t think it’s from the wine.

I flip through the cards, scanning the checked-off amounts.

$100

$500

$200

I gasp. A thousand dollars. From Donna and Charles Taylor. My heart is so full it nearly bursts.

“Oh my God,” I murmur.

“And those are just the responses from our table,” says Doug.

How much money did we raise? If the other tables were half as engaged as this one, tonight proves my idea is gold. Wild laughter edges up my esophagus, but I shove it down. Cackling like a madwoman and jigging on the spot isn’t exactly the most professional response. A tendril of guilt creeps into my heart then. If this lands me the promotion, Graeme stays in Michigan. Alone.

I can’t think about that right now. I won’t.

“I’m so happy your conservation work resonated with our guests,” I say.

“You have no idea how much this means to me—to us. And to the finches. Thank you.” Doug shakes my hand with both of his. “Maybe we can do it again on some other cruise?”

“I hope so.” If everything works out according to plan, we’ll be doing it on every cruise.

Doug and Analisa depart with a final wave. Before I can turn around, however, Nikolai appears in front of me.

“Good evening, my—”

“It’s time!” Walsh launches from her chair.

“Time for what?” I ask.