Saying no would make me a fraud.
Besides, I had to get over the throat-punching incident at some point. Tennessee and I were bound to spend countless Thanksgivings, Christmases, and baby christenings together in the future.
Better to Band-Aid it now than find myself getting nut-punched a few months down the line again.
“Sure. I’ll take her to the port tomorrow.”
“I mean, you’ll have to pick her up from Jerry & Sons. Is that okay?”
I unbuttoned my white lab coat, smiling good-naturedly. “Best milkshakes in town. It’d be my pleasure.”
“Will you help her with her bags, too? She doesn’t travel light.”
No shit.
Her hairspray and heels alone could probably sink the Elation.
“Honey, consider your sister my sister. I’ll help her with whatever she needs.”
Trinity squeaked, doing a weird thing with her hands, waving them quickly, like she was trying to take off and fly with them.
“Aww. Thank you so much! You’re such a star!” She was about to leave my office when she stopped by the door, biting down on her lips. “Oh, I just wanted you to know I’m so happy you’re with Gabriella. I think you two are super good for each other.”
Alarm bells rang in my head.
Gabriella still hadn’t told her friends we were over? Not telling everyone was one thing. Not telling her bestie?
I was going to set the record straight and ensure everyone knew I was a free agent.
…but first, I was going to survive this punishment of a cruise.
We were running late.
Actually, running wouldn’t be the best way to describe it.
We were crawling late.
My fault, naturally.
Cruz and I hit the afternoon traffic to Port Wilmington. His Audi was moving at a snail’s pace, stuck among a hundred more cars.
He’d been admiringly polite and silent the entire drive out of Fairhope, but by the throbbing vein in his temple, which was an interesting shade of pomegranate, I was pretty sure he was about to punch my tit.
“Remind me again,” he drawled, choking his steering wheel to death. “What held you up in Jerry & Sons for forty-five minutes while I loitered around the parking lot like a B-grade drug dealer?”
I’d stayed late because my new trainee waitress, Trixie, a single mother of two’s douchebag husband walked out on her for a younger model only three weeks ago.
She was having a mental breakdown—not entirely surprising seeing as it was her second shift and she’d never worked in her life—and I had to take over until her tables had been served.
Of course, I wasn’t going to out her story or explain myself to this haughty prick.
I owed him nothing.
“Already told you.” I popped the passenger’s sun visor down, sliding the mirror open to line my Cupid’s bow again, a nice shade of rose. “I had to choose the best lipstick color to go with my outfit.”
“You’re wearing your waitress uniform.”
“Exactly. Did you know there are over a thousand shades of pink?”