“Chiropractor.” His accent pulls the word into “Kai-rrro-prrrak-toor.”

“And a darn good one. I should know. I’ve been a patient of his for five years,” says Dwight.

Nikolai grins smugly. “And your sciatica has never been better.”

“Are you guys together?” asks Walsh, motioning between them.

The older man laughs, a deep-bellied guffaw. “Lord, no. He’s not my type. Too young.”

“Dwight started as a patient. Now he is friend. Only friend,” says Nikolai. I’m not sure if he means their relationship is strictly platonic or if Dwight is literally his one and only friend.

“So… buddy vacation?” Walsh asks.

Nikolai shrugs. “This was supposed to be my honeymoon. But, wedding didn’t happen. I bring Dwight instead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say. “About your wedding, I mean. It’s nice you brought a friend.” Poor guy. Ending an engagement then going on your honeymoon with another dude instead of your wife? Rough.

“Is okay. I, how do you say, dodged a bullet? My girlfriend, she was too demanding. I called off wedding before making big mistake. Now I am here and free as a bird of paradise.”

Dwight opens his mouth, but swallows whatever he was going to say with an exasperated shake of his head.

Pushing his sunglasses onto his forehead, Nikolai twists to face me more fully. The intense way he studies my face has me squirming in my seat. “Do you have boyfriend?” he finally asks.

I hoist a tight smile on my face. “Not at the moment.”

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

I suppress a groan. This guy seems nice enough, but the last thing I need is to be dealing with unwanted attention from an amorous guest. “Um, dinner is on the ship. So, we’re all having dinner together…”

“I mean sit with me. And Dwight,” he adds with a wave. “I would like to know you better, Ms. Shirt. Your friend can come too.”

“Sister. I’m her sister,” she wheezes through barely contained laughter.

I surreptitiously dig my elbow into her side.

Nikolai stares at me expectantly.

“Ahhh…” I’m saved from having to answer when the driver cuts the engine and promptly starts a lesson on how to properly exit the Zodiac with crew members’ help—wrist to wrist grip, both hands. A strong breeze chafes my bare legs and I shiver.

Above us, Discovery’s five decks loom. It might be a smaller, expedition-style ship, but from this vantage it looks enormous, like a towering monolith of red and white metal dotted with portholes and exposed deck. Metal scaffolding containing a staircase abuts the ship. At the bottom, two crew members wearing crisp white uniforms tie off the Zodiac, anchoring it in place.