His Plus One by Kate Aster

Chapter 5

~ HAILEY ~

Bottomless drink package.

Three words that, taken by themselves, mean precious little.

But together, they mean that I get to try every mixed drink I’ve ever been curious about. I like cruising.

Never tried a Manhattan? Here you go!

Want a Cosmopolitan? Go for it.

How about an Old Fashioned? Yep, check that one off your list as well, just as I did about a half hour ago.

And suddenly, the thundering music on the pool deck seems to echo the thrumming in my veins as Graydon and I escape the swirl of people at the Sail Away Party for a walk along the side of the ship. Thrumming… because he drapes an arm over my shoulder, and it feels way too good.

“Mind?” he asks as he does it. “This deck is crawling with my family.”

“I already cleared handholding and shoulder draping as approved activities. Besides, it’s kind of cold and you’re warm.”

The sundress I have on was perfect at the beginning of the evening. But after the sun melted into the blue horizon, the breeze that had felt so right, so perfect earlier, now feels… so chilly.

“Want to go inside?”

“No,” I answer quickly. I’m liking this too much—the feeling as though the further our ship drifts away from the shoreline, the less I’m encumbered by all the personality traits that have defined me for twenty-six years.

Out here, I get to be anyone. I feel like the opportunities are limitless.

“Sorry again about my family, by the way. I didn’t expect my mom to grill you with questions every time I stepped away to get you a drink.”

My eyes roll. “Will you stop apologizing about them? They’re so nice.”

“Give it time. You’ll change your mind.” From his tone, I can tell he means it as a joke.

“I don’t know how you can lie to them about us,” I scold. “I mean, it was easy tonight because the music was loud, and I could barely hear what they were even asking me. But it’ll be a lot harder tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to lie to them at all. It’s not like they’re going to ask us sordid details about our sex life together, Hailey.”

“Good, because people in tech have notoriously bad imaginations,” I scoff.

“I’m serious. If they ask you something, just be honest. Try me.”

My brow rises slightly, his words making me imagine for a brief moment what it might be like to truly try him.

Okay, maybe I do have a better imagination than I thought, because right now, the visions I whip up in my head have my temperature ratcheting upwards by several digits. “Try you?”

“Yeah. Pretend you’re my mom or Mason or Freya. Ask me anything.”

I narrow my eyes on him, then sighing, I give it a whirl. “So, Son…” I giggle when I say it. “How did you meet each other?”

“On a mission.” He grins as if he’s made his point. “See? It’s the truth.”

I try again. “When did you meet her?”

“Four years ago, though she insists it was three years, which is insulting as hell because I’ve always thought I was unforgettable.”

I laugh. “How long have you two been dating?”

He pauses only for a half-beat. “Not long.”

I make a buzzer sound like on a game show. “That’s a lie. See?”

“It’s not. We’ve been dating zero days. Zero is definitely not long.”

“Okay. So, how long is not long, Son?” I tack on again, this time dropping my voice a half-octave as I shoot for a dad-voice.

“No one’s going to ask that.”

“They might. It’s a legit question, Graydon.”

“Okay,” he concedes and then sighs. “Dad, stop interrogating me.”

I rest my fist on my waist. “I can’t use that line on your family. I’d sound like a bitch.”

“Okay, you’re right. But if someone asks you something you don’t want to answer, just don’t answer.”

I shift, facing him fully and crossing my arms. “Okay, so you be me.”

“Pretend I’m you?”

“Yeah. And I’ll be Freya—because I can already tell she’s going to be the biggest problem.”

“You’re right about that. Did you see how quickly Harris bolted out of that party tonight? Mason’s got to rein her in or Harris’ll be swimming home just to get away from her.”

I give a slight nod. “So, Hailey… how long have you been dating? I mean, how long is not long?” I throw his question back at him.

He looks thoughtful for a moment and then, giving a slight nod as though he’s pleased with himself, he answers, “You know, Freya, I’m kind of superstitious so I don’t want to talk about my relationship with Graydon. I don’t want to jinx anything.”

“I’m superstitious? I’m supposed to say that?” I screw up my face, but hate that it kind of works.

“You are,” he defends. “Always knocking wood. Drives us all crazy at the lunch table.”

“There’s no wood in the cafeteria,” I point out. “How can I possibly drive you guys crazy with that?”

His eyes reduce to mere slits. “‘The weather’s great today—knock on wood,’” he says in a tone that mocks my own, and then slaps his hand to his cheek dramatically. “‘Oh no! Where’s wood I can knock on? Oh, wait, let me walk clear across the room in the middle of a conversation so I can touch this random wood by-product because if I don’t, the world might come to an end.’”

I can’t suppress the laugh, because it actually is something I do.

“It’s annoying as hell,” he finishes as though he’s won.

My mouth forms a thin line as I ponder. “I guess it does work. I’m superstitious so I don’t want to jinx it…” My voice trails after I try it on for size.

“Selfie?” he asks suddenly as though, with his arm draped around me, he is reminded of the deal we struck.

I hate that he thinks that’s all he is to me—a selfie opportunity to get back at my ex.

And I hate that I let him think that.

“Sounds good.” We pose along the railing, and he extends his hand out with my phone since his arm is longer than mine. The ocean is our backdrop, and I love that I can actually feel the salt spray on my skin as I nestle in closer, only to fit in the shot, of course.

Taller than me by at least six inches, he ducks lower to press his cheek against mine as we smile for the camera.

I love the moment he captures. It’s a perfect shot—one that I’m so glad I get to keep forever. Not because of my stupid, useless ex-fiancé, but because it will remind me of how much fun I’ve had with him and his family tonight.

I don’t want to forget that. Not ever.

“Good one,” he says, taking a look at it before showing me.

A smile touching my lips, I turn and peer over the side of the ship.

The ocean looks ominous here. Like any born-and-raised Marylander, I often go to the shore to burn through my vacation time. Ocean City, usually. Sometimes venturing up to the Delaware coast or south to Virginia Beach, near where the cruise ship was docked only hours ago.

But from the shoreline where I’d vacation, the ocean looks different. There’s a sense of control—me, with my toes safely tucked in the sand. I make the rules. I can step away if the waves get too fierce.

But here, on a ship with no land in sight, I feel like the ocean is the master. I glance briefly at the chaise lounges lined up behind us.

“I love the sound of the waves. If I disappear in the night, I might just be here, falling asleep to this sound.” It surprises me how quickly the noise of the Sail Away Party dissipated the moment we stepped away, replaced by the whooshing sound as our ship slices its way through the water on our path to Bermuda.

“You should have joined the Navy then. You’d definitely get your fill of it.” He gazes into the water.

Closer to the stern of the ship, I can see lifeboats protruding over the side, obstructing the view of the water below. But here, nothing impedes my view of the frothy wake beneath us.

I feel him glance at me.

“Thinking of spitting over the side?” he jokes.

“Don’t be gross.”

“Sorry. Comes from being around my three brothers.”

“It kills the mood for the evening.”

He chuckles. “I didn’t know we were shooting for a certain mood here.”

“Of course we are… honey,” I tease, feeling a little daring seeing as I’m heavily buzzed. “Moonlit evening. Beautiful view. This should be romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“Don’t worry,” I add when I feel him stiffen at the R word. “I just mean that if your brothers step out here and hear you talking about spitting over the side of the ship, they’ll know we’re not exactly a conventional couple.”

“There’s no fun in being conventional.”

It’s my turn then to stiffen. No fun. A stab to my gut. I know he didn’t mean it as an insult to me. But still, the words ricochet inside of my alcohol-saturated brain, sounding eerily similar to what Stephen said before he left me.

You’re no fun, Hailey.The echo of the statement grates against me, an unwelcome memory of that ill-fated night when my ring finger suddenly became a whole lot more naked… and the man I supported since we graduated from college took his newfound wealth and set out to enjoy it without me.

No fun? It would have been a lot easier to be fun if I wasn’t paying all the bills with my salary while he was sitting on my couch developing the app that made him a fortune that he now spends on other women.

I fight the urge to frown. Not tonight. A wonderful evening like I’ve enjoyed will not be ended with thoughts of Stephen. “Well, we certainly don’t want to be conventional.”

Slightly dizzy, I step back from the rail and turn, stumbling as I do.

“I’ll grab you some water,” he offers.

“I don’t need it.”

“You do. Believe me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

He guides me over to one of the chaise lounges nearby where I can still enjoy the fresh, salty air and faint reflection of the moon on the distant waves.

“I’ll be right back.” He disappears, heading toward the bar again.

I inhale sharply, filling my lungs with the moist air and then exhaling slowly as though I don’t quite want to let it leave my body.

This.

This is fun.

I watch people pass by, usually arm in arm, as they enjoy the same walk along the rail that we did. A few stop and gaze out to the water. But no one blocks my view here on my lounger. It seems to be an unspoken rule on a cruise ship, and one I’m valuing.

A woman walks by me, and I might not have recognized her, inebriated as I am, if she didn’t have her camera around her neck.

“Hey, Max,” I call out.

She gives a start and then her eyes fall on me. “Hey! I didn’t see you there.”

“I blend into any scenery,” I say with a mocking boastful tone. It’s true, really. I’m not exactly the type of person that commands attention. Half the reason I wear my nerdy glasses is because it’s the only way people remember who I am.

“Where’s Colt?” I ask. The way those two looked at each other, I’m surprised they’d ever leave each other’s side.

“Still with the family. I slipped away because there’s a midnight dessert bar in the Lido Lounge.”

“Got a sweet tooth?”

“After all I ate tonight? No way. I just wanted to take pictures of it.”

My face elongates in surprise. I’ve never known anyone who seemed more enticed with taking pictures of dessert rather than eating it.

“Where’s Graydon?” she asks.

“Went to get me some water.”

“Ah. I got some great shots of you and him dancing. Want me to airdrop some to your phone?” She sits beside me.

I laugh. “No. In fact, the way I dance, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to see them.”

She laughs. “You definitely know how to cut loose.”

“The alcohol helps.” Then I rethink my prior decision, deciding that maybe I want a photo of me dancing so that I can always remember the only time someone used the words “cut loose” to refer to me.

“And the Adler family is a lot easier to take after a drink, believe me,” she adds.

I feel an odd prickle of protectiveness, but I remain silent.

I think, whenever I hear the word family, I’ll always think of the Adlers from now on. From that moment they engulfed us in the ship’s atrium when we first boarded the ship, to every minute of tonight’s Sail Away party as they drank, danced, and laughed with me as though I was somehow an honorary member of their tribe, I felt a tiny piece of my heart belonged to every one of them.

Including Graydon.

Watch it, Hailey,my conscience warns. My conscience—who is still licking her wounds after seeing how easily Stephen’s family disappeared on me, even after six years of me thinking they’d eventually be mine.

“Of course,” she begins as though she’s sensing my discomfort at the idea of disparaging the Adlers, “I grew up with them practically in my backyard. They were kind of legendary in our little subdivision, you know.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, Carson—or Stein or whatever he’s calling himself these days—he was the brain of them. He was a couple years older than Colt and me. But I’d still hear Carson’s name all the time at school. Colt was kind of the heart of the family. A defender of lost causes which is why he and I were besties since we were ten. And then Mason. He was the player. I’d always see some new girl on his arm during school. I think it’s so ironic he was the first one to get engaged.”

“First one to get married, too,” I point out.

“No—I mean, yeah. Of course.” A strange look washes over her face.

I’ve hung around spy networks enough for it to set off my radar, sensing there’s a story there that she’s not sharing.

But I won’t pry. We’ve all got our secrets to hide on this cruise, I imagine. I certainly do.

I cock my head, curious suddenly, remembering what Graydon had told me in the car about how difficult it was to find his own place in his family as the youngest. “How does Graydon fit into the picture?”

Her eyes widen with surprise. “Oh, you don’t know? He was the action guy. Always. And that’s really saying something in that family.”

My face elongates. “The action guy?”

“Oh, yeah. If there was a crisis, he was the first on it. If some kid fell in the playground, he was the first to get help. If someone was getting picked on around him, they wouldn’t be picked on long.” Her eyes light momentarily. “Did he tell you about the time he stopped a guy from putting roofies in some girl’s drink?”

“No.”

“You should ask him. He’s got spider senses when there’s trouble around and he’s not afraid to jump in to stop it. It’s why he’s a good SEAL, I guess. He’s the most likely Adler to end up with the Medal of Honor. That’s what his brothers say, anyway.” Her wide smile diminishes. “They’re all just hoping to God he doesn’t end up with it posthumously. How long have you two been dating?”

I gulp. I hate lying to her. So I try Graydon’s truth approach. “Not long, really.”

“Well, it’s obvious he really cares about you.”

My God. It worked.I nearly snort.

“Hey! You’re not talking about me behind my back, are you?”

Our heads turn to see Graydon approaching us.

“Might be,” Max says coyly.

Graydon reaches out to me with a glass of water, saying to Max, “I hear you deserted Colt with Uncle Ted, Max. Not cool.”

She groans. “I was hoping no one would notice.” She turns to me to explain, “There’s no easy way to end a conversation with Ted. Watch out.”

He sits on the next lounger over. “They don’t call him Tractor Beam Ted for nothing. Colt got your escape text, and he’s headed over to the dessert bar to meet you.”

She glances at her watch. “I better go then. Hey, some of us are getting mani-pedis tomorrow morning in the spa. Want to join us?” she directs to me.

Graydon chuckles. “Mani-pedis are definitely not Hailey’s speed,” he answers for me, and I can’t help being annoyed by it, even if I know he’s just trying to keep me from getting trapped into something I don’t want to do.

I hate hearing him say it, because it makes me picture the women that Graydon tends to date—women who look so damn perfect that not getting a mani-pedi regularly would likely be an affront to the universe.

And I hate the reminder that I’m just not his type.

But things are different out here at sea.

“I’d love to,” I say as though getting a mani-pedi is something I do at least once a month, even though I’ve never had one in my life.

God help the poor person who gets tasked to work on my nails.

“Great! I’ll text you the info.” Then, cradling her camera even though it’s safely strapped around her neck, she darts away.

Graydon’s eyebrows are hiked up two inches on his face. “A mani-pedi?”

“Hey, if anyone’s overdue for a manicure and pedicure, it’s me.”

“I don’t want you feeling you have to do that. I mean, it’s not exactly… you.”

My chin sets stubbornly. “But I’m not me this week. I’m your date. And your date would totally get a mani-pedi.”

With that, I chug back the entire glass of water without even breaking for a breath. Because if I’m meeting up with the girls at the spa tomorrow morning, then by God, I won’t be nursing a hangover as I do it.