Danial turned to head to the dining table under an awning as Alex’s heart sank. She hadn’t meant to start yet another day off on a contentious note, but it always somehow crept up and took her by surprise. While Paul and her mother continued their conversation, she pulled herself from the lounger, following him to the far side of the deck.

“I’m about to—” he started, pointing toward his computer.

“I know, I’m not staying. I just wanted to apologize for being rude.” She kept a careful distance from him as she spoke. “And to ask if you wanted to have lunch with Paul and I afterward.”

“Really?” He looked heartened, and nervous, and as much like a lost little boy as he had the night before.

“Yes, really. It’ll be nice, just the three of us.”

He smiled, leaning into her fragile peace treaty. “But then we won’t get to hear more about Bee’s fascinating new dietary restrictions.”

“I saw her eat pasta last night, by the way,” Alex replied, faux-conspiratorially.

“Oh, I know.” He ran his elegant fingers through his ink-black hair, sitting back slightly as he laughed. “Lasagna, no less.”

From his computer, she heard the quiet technological sounds of his meeting starting, and he put a finger to his full lips in a “shh” motion as he moved to turn on his camera.

“Good morning, everyone,” he opened, slipping into effortless gravitas. His deep, rich voice sounded even more commanding in this context, reassuring and intimidating in equal measure. He glanced down at his grandfather’s watch, checking the time before jokingly adding, “Or, I guess, afternoon—though it’s hard to tell time at sea, if I’m honest.”

She heard the soft laughter rise from the voices on his screen, and only then did she realize that she was still standing opposite him at the table, frozen in place, marveling at the man he had become.

“We actually ended up starting a conga line, if you can believe it.” Paul laughed, leaning back slightly so a crewmember could pour him a glass of crisp white wine. “Even Guy was dancing.”

“I simply don’t believe you.” Alex smiled, indicating a motion of not too much for her own wine pour. Danial, meanwhile, politely declined.

“This is a beautiful pouilly fuissé,” Paul protested, over-emphasizing the French words and bringing his glass to his nose for a theatrical whiff.. “You’re not even going to taste it?”

“Eating food is pushing the limits of this hangover right now.” Danial laughed. “I’m going to take a break from the booze for a minute.”

A crewmember walked around the table, offering a basket teeming with several varieties of gorgeous-looking bread. Alex took her time selecting a small ciabatta roll and a slice full of nuts and grains—for health.

“That’s probably wise.” Alex smiled across the table at him. “I’m just choosing not to be.”