“Are you cold? Here, I warm you…” He extends an arm like he’s going to wrap it around my shoulders. Our life jackets squeak together. I gently, but firmly, guide his arm back to his own personal space with a pat. “I’m fine, thank you. You’ve done plenty.”

Like make a bad situation worse. Since he jumped off our kayak, one of the Zodiacs had to come over, fish us out of the water, and then tow our kayak back to the ship. It might have been shallow enough to climb back in, but the unexpected dip in cold water put the kibosh on any more kayaking for us.

“Again, I am so sorry about this, folks,” I say to the guests.

“Sorry?” the stocky, middle-aged man across from me booms. “I just got the most amazing pictures of the whole trip, thanks to you. How often do you see flamingoes fly?” Holding out his DSLR, he shows me the screen. On it is a close-up of one of the flamingoes taking off—a gorgeous, detailed image of feathers and movement and a beady yellow eye that any photographer would kill to capture.

“That’s right,” a couple of others echo.

The gray-haired woman sitting next to me pats my knee. “We’re just glad you two are okay.”

I murmur my thanks and steal a glance at Xiavera, sitting at the very front of the Zodiac.

She’s not smiling. Instead, she murmurs a rapid string of Spanish into a walkie-talkie. Gustavo’s voice buzzes back. My throat tightens.

The driver pulls the Zodiac up to the ship and two crew members untie the kayak so they can guide it along a catwalk to a netted area off to the side. Nikolai and I step off the craft onto the metal platform and up a short set of stairs into the cubby-lined mudroom.

Inside, Gustavo is there to greet us. The deep frown etched on his usually pleasant face makes anxiety slither and coil like a snake in my stomach. “Are you both all right?” he asks, looking us over.

“Yes, thank you,” says Nikolai.

“What happened?”

I open my mouth to speak, but Nikolai cuts in. “Miss Evans was trying ever so hard to capture the perfect picture of the birds. She fell in. I saved her.” He puffs his chest.

Saved me. I suppress a snort.

“She’s lucky you were there,” says Gustavo.

And she is standing right here. Unbuckling my life jacket, I let it fall to the floor with a wet plop and a clatter of buckles. “I’m sorry, Gustavo, it was an accident.”

He narrows his eyes briefly at me before turning to Nikolai. “Why don’t you get warm, get clean, and get ready for the excursion to Post Office Bay that departs in one hour. Yes?”