Hanging from a thick wooden hanger on a wall hook was a plush white terry cloth robe with a pair of slippers neatly placed below it. Both were monogrammed with the yacht’s name, and Alex couldn’t wait to put them on after her bath. But she would be patient, only enjoying things in the proper order. She walked, naked, into the bathroom and started running the tap, sitting on the side of the tub to feel the temperature rise. Something about the water—being in it, being on it—put her at ease. Maybe it was the summers she spent on Lake Ontario, or the fact that she was a Cancer.

At the thought of her sign, her mind drifted back to the night junior year when they had all stayed up until three in the morning while Bee read everyone’s star charts. She remembered that Paul was “the most prototypical Gemini she had ever seen,” that Dev was “almost too Capricornian to function,” and that Danial had “so much Scorpio in his chart it stung her.” Alex had spent the days after scouring everything she could about Cancer-Scorpio compatibility, and remembered—among many other things—that they were both water signs. She wondered if he felt the same immediate relaxation around bodies of water as she did, or if ten days on the Mediterranean would be enough to put out the fire between them for good.

6. Marseille, France

6

MARSEILLE, FRANCE

Now

The knock on her cabin door came in three quick raps, soft yet certain.

“Miss Onassis?”

Still screwing the backing onto one of her thick gold hoops, Alex walked over and opened the door. “That’s me, hi.”

“Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting—Mister Kennedy said you would be ready. I just wanted to introduce myself personally: I’m Melanie, your chief steward for our voyage.”

Alex was grateful she had googled the term.

“It’s great to meet you.” She extended her hand to shake Melanie’s.

“Kennedy and Onassis—that’s funny! Is there any relation?”

People had been asking her and Paul this question since they first introduced themselves in a freshman psychology class, but like many of the things that initially brought them together, it was just a happy coincidence.

“No, no relation.” She smiled.

“Well, Mister Kennedy wanted to let you know that the group is gathering in the salon for an informal cocktail hour. You are welcome to join them, or I can let them know that you’ll be joining later for dinner.”

“No, I’ll be ready in five minutes, thank you.” It was so strange being spoken to this way, hearing Paul referred to by his father’s name.