Bad Cruz

“Did you know,” he retorted, “the Elation boards in fifteen minutes and we are going to miss the cruise?”

“Nonsense.” I waved a dismissive hand at him. The secret was in the faux confidence. “We’ll make it in time, and it’ll be wonderful.”

“Those things are mutually exclusive. If you’re there, it will not be wonderful.”

“Ouch,” I said, extra flatly, for emphasis that I couldn’t care less. “Can’t we all just get along?”

“The chances of us ever getting along flew out the window when you punched my throat six years ago.”

I could not believe his audacity at casually bringing that up.

“I was aiming for your face.”

“You’re as untalented as you are violent, Miss Turner.”

“Whatever happened to letting bygones be bygones?”

“Those don’t apply in our case. You would’ve kept beating me to death if we hadn’t had an audience.”

I smiled nostalgically. “To death? No. But I probably would’ve damaged the crown jewels.”

He ground his teeth together, scowling at the traffic jam through his wire-rimmed Aviator glasses. Vintage and likely expensive as heck. He looked like a war hero in a Tom Cruise movie. Which made me weak-kneed every time I stared at him directly. Maybe that’s why I liked irritating him—that clenched jaw, though!

I turned my face to my window and cranked up the radio. Fergie sang about her lovely lady lumps. I idly wondered if I should try my luck at writing lyrics. It couldn’t be that hard if this song made it to the radio.

I tried to cheer myself up by telling myself that this was Bear’s very first real vacation and he was stupid excited about it. Also, the ten-day cruise was going to give me some much-needed distance from Rob, who had been calling every day for the past couple weeks, but otherwise had been keeping a low profile in Fairhope. Once again, I was keeping his secret…sort of.

I still hadn’t broached the subject of his father with Bear, but was planning to do so this trip. Take him to one of the nice restaurants on the cruise ship and conduct a serious, grown-up conversation with him. The kind Dr. Phil would find inspiring.

Mr. Perfect’s voice sliced through Fergie’s singing. “Look, this cruise is supposed to help our families get to know each other better. I’m willing to let the throat-punching incident go if you play nice, too. What do you say?”

“Fine. Yes. I’ll give it a try. Can I call my son?”

Why I asked him for permission was beyond me.

I was a grown woman, on the verge of thirty, in fact. But I guess it was his car after all.

Also, Cruz always felt so much older than me, even though there were two years between us.

Also, maybe it would be nice to stop bickering for half a second.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

I was pretty sure the sweetheart part slipped accidentally, but it still made my thighs high-five each other and my clit wake up from its hibernation.

Real classy, Nessy. Wait till he enjoys an ice cream on the trip. Your vagina is probably going to detonate all over the open bar.

I FaceTimed Bear, who looked adorable in his neon-green framed shades and floppy hair. There was a lot of talking and laughing and microphone announcements in the background, so I gathered he was already on the ship.

“Hey there, Care Bear.” I grinned. “How’s my favorite boy?”

“Real good, Ma. You have to see this place. It’s crazy big. Like a city.”

“Well, honey, I’m on my way. Are Mamaw and Papaw with you?”

“Nope. Found a local gang heading toward the South China Sea. We’re going to become pirates. Do you think I’ll look good with an eye patch?”

The silent chuckle next to me, coming from Golden Boy, told me that this was supposed to be a joke. I frowned.