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  Zane answered before I got there. “Yep. Eric played hooky to spend a day at sea with us. He’s agreed to assist when needed and to stay out of the way when he’s not. Right, babe?”

  “Right. I brought a book, but I’m willing to help however I can,” I assured him with a smile. “I’ll be useless if I’m seasick, though. Do you have anything in case this bracelet doesn’t work?”

  “Oh. No, but I know where you can find some.” He cast a funny look between us then inclined his head toward the building closest to the dock. “I’ll go with you. It’ll be faster that way.”

  “Thanks. Make it snappy. I’m ready to go.” Zane clapped then turned to talk to a couple of men standing near the boat who I assumed were going to help push us out to sea. I took a moment to admire his confident swagger before hurrying after Dean.

  I made idle conversation as we headed toward what looked like a small tack shop. I’d already made up my mind to be as cordial as possible to Dean for Zane’s sake. There was no point in making the day any more miserable than necessary.

  I smiled at the craggy-faced older gentleman behind a battered counter, noting his scraggly beard and the copious tats on his arms. He reminded me of a character from a Hemingway novel. Or a real sailor. Not the country club set who wore water-proof Rolexes and belonged to exclusive clubs up and down the coast. If he hadn’t chuckled when I asked if he sold seasick pills, I might have liked the guy.

  “Where you headin’?” he asked when I handed over a twenty.

  “To San Francisco.”

  “Nice ride all in all, but you’re sailin’ against the wind. Is it your first time?” His eyes sparked with humor that assured me the question was rhetorical. He knew I was a landlubber.

  “No. Well, yes. I’ve never sailed this far before,” I admitted, stuffing the change into my pocket.

  “It’s not the distance so much. It’s the current, the fog, the weather. The only thing you’ve got going for you today is there won’t be any rain. The rest”—he smiled widely, showing off the gap between his yellowed front teeth—“maybe these magic pills will take care of that.”

  On some level, I knew he was playing with me but if Zane hadn’t taken my cell, I would have called my ride then and there. This was beyond stupid and I didn’t need the old man from the sea to tell me so. I thanked him politely then turned toward the door and immediately bumped into Dean. He held the door but didn’t say anything until we were outside.

  “Hang on. I’m gonna take one of these now. I just need water.” I rummaged in my backpack, talking to myself as I sifted through my things and planned my speech to Zane. I couldn’t do this. I’d tell him I forgot an important meeting or—

  “He’s really marrying you, eh?” Dean mumbled.

  His eyes were locked on the platinum band on my right hand. Zane slipped it on my finger the night he’d asked me to marry him on the cliff overlooking the Bay. The plan was to switch it to my left hand on our wedding day when I gave him his ring too.

  In spite of his caustic tone, my smile was automatic. I would happily recount that story to anyone who asked. Even Dean. But when I looked over at him, I knew he wasn’t congratulating me. He was wondering what the fuck his friend was thinking.

  “Yes,” I replied shortly. “We should—”

  “I don’t get it. You’re not his type. It’s gotta be the money. You probably have connections too. But still…it’s a head scratcher. He’s out of your league, Sherbert,” he snorted derisively.

  It took me a second to recover from the attack. It was unexpected and casually vicious. And paired with a nickname I hadn’t heard aloud in thirteen years, it affected me far more than it should have. I was catapulted back in time to the darkest days of high school when derogatory names were the least offensive thing I worried about. I’d had pages from textbooks glued together, Post-it notes stuck to the back of my shirt with crudely-drawn penises or “kick me” scrawled on them. I’d been tripped, knocked into lockers, and yes…in third-grade, I’d been gifted with a nickname that was so silly, it was laughable. Except for the part that it followed me through grade school, junior high, and every fucking year of high school.

  Dean was two years older than me. I barely said two words to him back then but his sister sat next to me in a few classes. She’d hung with the popular crowd so needless to say, we weren’t close buddies but she was cool. She was a pretty, petite blonde who’d stood out because she was always kind and she was one of the few who never called me Sherbert.

  To hear that silly taunt all these years later from a grown adult was almost laughable. It told me more about him than me. He was an idiot. A jealous one, no less.

  I chuckled heartily and then shrugged. “You may be right, but he loves me anyway. Let’s go. He’s waiting and—”

  “Hang on.” Dean grabbed my elbow before I could move on and then got in my face. So close I smelled the coffee on his breath. “Did you know about us? Did he tell you we spent every minute of every day together? Did he tell you I was his first?”

  That stopped me. But only for a moment. His aim was to hurt me, but honestly, he just sounded pathetic.

  I rolled my eyes and shook his arm off. “Get over yourself, Dean. No one gives a crap about your teenage sexcapades.”

  I laced every word with disdain and shot a world-class parting sneer at him before heading toward the boat. Fuck that asshole. I should have felt somewhat vindicated to know I’d been right about him, but it no longer seemed important. And tattling to Zane before a day-long trip at sea wouldn’t help anything. In fact, it might screw things up. Like it or not, Zane needed Dean’s help to get La Bella to San Francisco. I was close to worthless here. I’d come to stake some lame-ass claim in a show of teenage angst that rivaled Dean’s display. It was time to end this.

  The best way to do so was to extricate myself from the situation. I just had to get my phone back from Zane, call for a ride, and get my ass to work. I’d have a regular Monday and Zane would have his sea-faring version of the same. At the end of the day, after Carrigan’s new boat was delivered, we’d meet at home and move on with our lives. And yes…I’d tattle to my heart’s content.

  I spotted Zane behind the wheel as I neared the boat. He looked so damn handsome. I actually couldn’t see his face from where I stood, but his regal carriage and the proud set of his jaw told anyone paying attention that this guy was in command. However, he didn’t need me to make gooey eyes at him all day to know I was crazy about him. I opened my mouth to call his name, but an abrupt hand on my shoulder stopped me.

  “Let’s get something straight before you get onboard, princess. I’m in charge and I’m gonna need you to stay the fuck out the way. I don’t want to hear any crying or complaining or—”

  “Back off,” I hissed. “You’re not in charge, Zane is. I’m not sure why you’ve got your panties in a twist but you need to get something straight.…He’s mine. Not yours.”

  “If that’s what you think…” Dean shrugged in a defiant act of nonchalance. I chided myself not to rise to his bait. The guy was seriously delusional and possibly even unhinged.

  “That’s what I know. I’m not interested in your glory days, which may or may not have included Zane. It was a long time a—”

  “It wasn’t that long ago. Not that long ago at all,” he singsonged then gave me a cocky look complete with a shit-eating grin that begged me to ask a host of probing questions beginning with, “When was the last time you had sex with my fiancé?”

  “Let’s do this! What are you two waiting for?” Zane called, waving his arms over his head.

  Dean and I held eye contact for a moment longer. Then I gave him my best dirty look before heading for the boat. I wished I was quick with snappy comeback lines. I would have given anything to wipe that smug look off his regretfully handsome face. But I knew my limitations now. I was under-caffeinated for this type of confrontation and ultimately, he didn’t matter. Only Zane did.

  “Hey, I changed m
y mind. I’m gonna call for a ride to my office. I have a lot to do and—”

  Zane set aside the chart he was studying and lifted his sunglasses to give me a searching look. “Seriously? After all this, you want to go home? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” I lied.

  “Are you afraid? There’s nothing to worry about, you know. I’ve made this trip so many times I could do it my sleep. The wind might be—”

  “That’s not it.”

  He cocked his head and then averted his gaze to something directly behind me then back again. “Please don’t tell me this is about Dean.”

  I let out an annoyed sigh and I shook my head. When Zane narrowed his eyes, wordlessly demanding I tell the truth, I folded like a house of cards. “Fine. Maybe it is, but not for the reasons you might think.”

  “I don’t have time for this, Eric,” he said sharply. “We aren’t dissecting our feelings or wading through any false bullshit. We’re working now. Go put your things downstairs and then get back up here to help with the lines.”

  “No, listen. I don’t want to go into it now either. We can talk at home. But I’m not leaving because I’m jealous. I swear.” I kept my voice low but earnest so he’d know I was perfectly sincere.

  “Then prove it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Stay with me.”

  Zane’s expression went suddenly intense, giving me the distinct impression my acquiescence was important. If Dean wasn’t within earshot and time wasn’t of the essence, I might have argued. And I would have won. However, my masterful oratorical persuasion was a moot point here. If Zane wanted me to go, I’d go. Period.

  “Okay,” I replied.

  He smiled and pressed a quick kiss on my forehead then swatted my ass. “Good. Don’t worry about a thing. It’ll be awesome.”

  * * *

  Awesome was a relative term. Something could be awesomely fantastic or awesomely terrible. And yeah…that day was definitely in the latter category. In fact, I could safely say my first, and hopefully last, sailing expedition from Half Moon Bay to San Francisco was a fucking disaster. I had a feeling it might suck. Nothing about spending the day with my fiancé’s ex-lover who’d just confirmed he wanted back in his pants was appealing. Add a ferocious case of seasickness and this simple expedition had the makings of a perfect storm…for a party of one.

  It started out okay. The skies were a gunmetal gray with light winds blowing from a northeasterly direction. I only knew that because I’d overheard Zane telling Dean to adjust the mast and…blah, blah, blah. For as often as I’d been sailing on the Bay with Zane, I was overwhelmed by the sheer scope of an ocean voyage. Everything was supersized on the Pacific. The wind was stronger, the waves were bigger, and the glare from the endless expanse of gray was as bright as a sunny day on land.

  Zane was in his element. Watching him maneuver the forty-five-foot sailboat out of the harbor and into open water was a thing of beauty. I helped pull the ropes to secure the sails when asked. There was an urgency about the menial chores I was given that made them seem significant so I did my best to stay alert, but my gaze frequently wandered to Zane’s broad shoulders, sure hands, and sexy ass in those khakis. And when he steered La Bella through a choppy stretch leaning heavily to port side then righted her and gave a whoop of glee, my heart jumped in my chest. He was so damn beautiful.

  I ignored my stomach’s acrobatic flip as I leaned heavily against the edge of the table and grinned at him.

  “How do you know when to release the tension in the sail and let go?” I asked.

  Zane kept his eyes on the ocean when he answered. “You’ve got to read the wind and the waves. They work in tandem out here. Ideally anyway. Some days, it’s all over the fucking place,” he said with a laugh. “Just like in real life. But I’ve learned that if you pay attention, the ocean will tell you what to do.”

  “How so?”

  “One way is to watch the peaks in the waves. Look for the intervals and time them. Sailing is like surfing…just with a boat instead of a board. Number one rule in racing that I think applies everywhere is to never chase a wave you can’t catch.”

  Dean slapped him on the back and beamed. “I taught you well.”

  Zane flipped him off but his grin softened the gesture to the equivalent of a high five. “You weren’t a totally crappy teacher. I’ll give you that,” he said with a lopsided grin.

  “Dude, remember that time we took Kersey’s old sloop out to Catalina? Talk about some wild waves.” Dean let out a low whistle and then laughed. “I didn’t think we’d make it.”

  “Never a doubt, Dean. Never a doubt,” Zane singsonged before giving his friend a look I couldn’t read, most likely because it wasn’t a shared memory. Nonetheless, the look stirred a new round of butterflies. And when La Bella sloped to her side to ride the biggest wave we’d encountered yet, I had a feeling I was in trouble.

  I didn’t own up to it right away. I pasted a smile on my face and did as I was told, stopping once in a while to take a sip of water and adjust my seasickness band. The damn thing must have been defective. Though that didn’t explain why the Dramamine wasn’t working either. Then again, maybe I was psyching myself out. My clammy palms and cement mixer stomach might have something to do with the nonstop tripping down memory lane Dean incited. His stories weren’t ribald or offensive. They just went on for-fucking-ever. I had no doubt this was an intentional ploy to remind me I was the outsider here. Sailing was their thing. Not mine.

  I hung on for as long as I could, but when we crested another large wave and descended to a flat surface out of the blue, I conceded defeat and promptly lost my breakfast over the railing.

  “You okay?” Zane rubbed my back sweetly.

  I didn’t have the strength to reply, so I nodded before burying my head in my hands and taking a deep cleansing breath. I thought it was over but the boat lurched again, more violently this time and I was back to white knuckling the rail, ridding my stomach of everything it had. The shock of internal heat combined with the cool misty morning made me feel feverish on top of flat-out awful. I’d never craved my own bed more in my life. The worst part was knowing this wasn’t a mild case of the flu. This was the beginning of a really rough day.

  “I’m better now,” I lied. “You should do sailor-y things. Don’t let Ahab take over.”

  Zane set his thumb and forefinger under my chin until I looked at him. “I’m not sure what that last line means, but I do need to help. Want some Sprite or—”

  “Oh no. Nothing. I’m…I’m gonna go lie down.” I slumped forward, leaning on the rail with both hands and then slowly making my way hand over hand, shuffling toward the stairwell.

  “Er, you’ll feel better if you stay on deck. You feel the waves more keenly below. Every rock and roll is amplified in the hull—”

  “Stop. I’m begging you. Just…let me be miserable my way. Please,” I pleaded, sounding pathetic even to my own ears.

  Zane smoothed my damp hair from my eyes and gave me a small smile. “Okay. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

  I waved distractedly and turned to descend the stairs when Dean called my name. I looked up without thinking.

  “Feel better, Eric,” he said.

  I paused to thank him automatically because in the excitement of the Grim Reaper circling me like a seagull hovering over a fishing boat, I’d forgotten Dean was my enemy.

  Until he reminded me with a venomous half smile and a wink.

  I was too weak to do or say anything. Swimming above persistent nausea took all my strength and part of my memory, so yeah…it belatedly occurred to me that this was the best fucking revenge possible for him. He could torment me to his heart’s content with his subtle jabs about the days when I was Sherbert to more people than I was Eric. Which would have coincided with the time when the man I was about to marry barely knew I was alive, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have been impressed because he was busy fucking this asshole.

  H
oly crap. This was hell.

  And it only got worse.

  I closed my eyes and curled into a fetal position, hoping sleep would put me out of my misery. No such luck. I felt every little creak in the boat deep in my bones. Random pieces of conversation drifted to the cabin, making it impossible to rest.

  “Dude, he was so hot. I blew him in the…”

  “…least that’s what you said when I used to lick…”

  “I shouldn’t have gotten married. Big mistake. You really should reconsider if you…”

  Torture. Absolute torture. The wind was the culprit here. It controlled how far the boat teetered on its side and how fast we traveled. It was directly responsible for fucking with my stomach and my head. Hibernating out of its reach wasn’t working. It was like being tied to a waterbed with an epic hangover. I was more miserable than ever. Maybe Zane was right after all. I wrapped myself in a wool blanket I found in the stateroom and with excruciating care, made my way back upstairs.

  I didn’t announce myself. It would have taken more energy than I could expend. I figured they’d notice me after a while and if they didn’t, that was okay too. I leaned against the side of the cabin and fixed my gaze on the horizon. After a few minutes, I felt marginally better than shit, though still not great. I turned slightly at the sound of Zane and Dean talking. I couldn’t see them but they had to be close.

  “I thought we’d make it, but I gotta say, the sex wasn’t the best I’d ever had,” Dean said.

  “Are you seeing anyone now?” Zane asked.

  “No. There’s a guy I’m interested in but…I can’t do the gay thing at home. It’s not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “Get real, man. Nothing has changed. It may even be more conservative now than ever. I’d have to move to come out as bi. Like you did. And honestly, I’m not sure it would be worth it. I wish I’d have taken you up on your offer all those years ago. I should have come with you.”