“But you’re marrying her for yourself, not because your mother wants you to, right?” I asked. It was none of my business, which was why I wanted to know.
“Do I seem like the kind of guy who does anything he doesn’t want to do?”
I looked into Denis’ eyes. “No, you don’t.”
“So were you really engaged to that Broadway Hound?”
“Ah, touché,” I laughed. “You read about him, I see.”
The waiter returned with our coffee, but brought skim milk instead of cream. I hate when that happens. Then I have to send the milk back and wait for the cream. I’ve always heard that waiters spit in your food when you send it back, but maybe they don’t do that on such a fancy ship. Still, it wasn’t worth the risk of infection.
“You know what I’d really like?” I said. “A glass of champagne.”
“For breakfast?” Denis said.
“Absolutely,” I declared. “I’ve never had champagne for breakfast and I want to commemorate my crushing defeat this morning in the Galaxy Lounge.”
Denis raised his hand to get the waiter’s attention. “Two glasses of champagne.”
“Pink champagne,” I said.
“Like Deborah Kerr drank with Cary Grant in An Affair to Remember?” Denis said.
“Well, cross my heart and kiss my elbow. You like old movies? So do I. You know what I’ve always wished? That my life would have been like a 1950s romantic comedy. Wouldn’t that have been great?”
“Of all the words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been,” Denis said.
“Shakespeare?”
“It’s from an old movie, The Lavender Hill Mob,” he said. “Everyone has might have beens in their lives, things they wish had been different.”
“Do you?” I said, moving my face a little closer to his. He smelled really good, like bath soap, only manlier. Never in my life had a man wearing black socks with brown leather sandals seemed so yummy. And that full face, those misty kohl eyes, those thick lashes—what I wouldn’t give for a pair of those (thick ones, I mean; I do have lashes). I wanted to plant soft butterfly kisses on his eyelids right there in the Bistro. That would give those cruise passengers something to gossip about, but I reminded myself that I was here on a mission and he was engaged to someone else. So I maintained strict military discipline.
“I played baseball in college,” he said. “After my senior year, I was drafted into the Columbus Clippers, the Yankees farm team. I’d just been accepted into Harvard Law. I suppose because I felt a sense of duty to the King family business, I chose law school. Bad move. My whole first year of Harvard, I was sick about it. I almost dropped out four times to get back to baseball. The next summer, though, I developed bursitis in my knees from the years of playing college ball. That would have killed my athletic career.”
“So it was good that you chose law school.”
“No, it was terrible. One year of baseball would have been a dream come true. Better to have played and lost…” he mused.
The waiter returned with two glasses of pink champagne. “Cheers,” I said, clinking my glass with Denis’.
“Sometimes things happen that seem terrible, like me not playing ball or you falling for a creep, but later they turn out to be blessings.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what Carleen said. My father too.”
“It’s nice that you brought your father with you,” Denis said. “I like that.”
I smiled. “Pops has a few might have beens in his life.”
“Who doesn’t? It’s like that old Indian story.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard it. There was a brave who went riding one day and his horse fell on top of him, breaking his leg. The next day, all the young braves in his tribe went to fight in a battle. The young Indian was despondent that his injury kept him from joining his brothers. But then all the braves were killed in battle. So the Indian’s bad break turned out to be a blessing. Just wait. That may be true for you.”
“Well, if it is,” I said, “I wish the blessing part would reveal itself.”
“Patience, woman,” Denis said, smiling.
“So did you finish law school?” I said. “It’s always good to know a lawyer on a cruise.”
“Why, you planning on getting arrested?”
“No-oh,” I said, maybe a little too defensively.
“Even if someone was arrested, I couldn’t help them,” Denis said. “Local laws apply. ’Course, the last place you want to end up in jail are the countries we’re cruising, like Turkey.”
“Really,” I said, my voice cracking. “Why?”
“Remember Midnight Express, that guy who was caught trafficking drugs in Istanbul? They strip-searched him, hung him naked upside down, and beat him, tortured him. Their prisons are barbaric. That’s based on a true story.”
“Whoo boy,” I sighed.
“There you are,” a woman’s voice squealed.
I glanced up to see Sydney clacking toward us on the marble floor in a pair of stilettos and teeny white shorts that framed her annoyingly jiggle-free legs. “I’ve been looking everywhere.” As she walked, she pumped her five-pound weights up and down, sculpting those already ripped arms.
Syd pulled up a chair, leaned over, and gave Denis a kiss on the lips. She handed him a stack of “while you were out” messages that the butler had put under their door. “What happened with the lecture?”
“It ended early,” Denis said.
“Oh, word around the ship is no one came,” Sydney said.
“Yes, it’s true,” I said. “Denis here was my audience of one.”
Sydney looked at him and then at me, pumping her five-pound weight more furiously. “Well, I don’t care what anyone else says, the lectures you’re giving don’t sound as dull as dishwater to me. Excuse me, waiter.” Sydney snapped her fingers twice and a young man appeared to take her order. “Can I have six almonds, roasted, no salt?”
“I appreciate your support,” I said. “See you guys at dinner.” I needed to find John to see if he’d been able to reach Jorge,
