“And when has that stopped gossip from happening? James will find out, and everything will be ruined. I know it.” I’m so angry I’m shaking.

Graeme paces the cabin. “Why are you so afraid?” he explodes.

“Because this is my career, my life.” I wrap my arms around my stomach to keep the nausea at bay. “I was wrong about us. This was a mistake. It’s like Sean all over again.” My words are barely above a whisper, but they slice a gaping hole in my chest. I can’t move. Every breath is a knife in my breaking heart.

“I’m not Sean!” Graeme roars. “Yes, I told the cruise leader about us. But not because I’m an asshole. I did it to save you, Henley. Because it was the only one of two options that didn’t involve you breaking any company rules.”

A tiny voice recognizes the truth in his words, but it doesn’t matter. Because my career at Seaquest is over. I know it.

Nostrils flaring, Graeme closes the distance between us in three strides and grips my upper arms. His movements are jerky but his touch is gentle. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he closes his eyes briefly. “This is sad. I’m sad for you, Henley. You deserve to be happy, and you’re never going to be happy working like a draft horse with nothing and no one else in your life.”

A fissure forms somewhere deep down inside me. A web of cracks creep and spread. Anger bubbles up—a thick, viscous mortar. I rip my arms out of his grasp.

“Like you’re one to talk.” My thighs tremble as I stagger to the far side of the room. “How are all your friends, huh? Oh wait, you probably wouldn’t know because you’ve walled yourself off from everyone. I saw the Instagram comment from your cousin about ‘nice to see you back in the world.’ And you want to lecture me about isolation? You’ve been hiding under a rock.”

He jerks like I’ve slapped him. A dark cloud settles over the room. The ship groans as it crests a wave and dips into a trough. I grab Walsh’s headboard to steady myself. We’re both breathing hard. Any desire between us has burned up like a shooting star crashing to earth.

Graeme’s voice is flat when he finally speaks. “You act like you’re the only one with a stake in this game. You’re not. I understand how this”—he motions between us—“complicates everything. But I was willing to give it a try. Because I care about you, Henley. But maybe I was wrong to.”

His words hang in the air, waiting for me to bat them down, to argue. I don’t. Chin trembling, I suck in a deep breath and harden my heart. “Maybe you were.”