“Whoops,” Abby said. “Looks like we missed breakfast.”
“That’s okay,” I said, groaning. “We can order in breakfast from the kitchen.”
“Or we could get dressed and go get lunch,” she said.
“That, too. I was hoping to enjoy your body a bit more, though.”
“Naughty, naughty,” she said, grinning. “Come on. Let’s go get some lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a little hungover.”
Lunch service was bustling with people. The waiters and waitresses were running all over the place while people with drinks in their hands stumbled down hallways. I kept my arm tight around Abby’s waist, but made no movement to pull her out of people’s paths. I kept her close as we navigated the hallways, then I let her go once we got to the dining area. I wanted to protect her, but not make her feel overwhelmed or controlled. I was trying to find that balance between making her feel comforted by my presence, without implying she couldn’t take care of herself, and forcing her to be controlled. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t physically steer her around, I just supported her.
After the stories we had shared yesterday, I didn’t want to ruin things.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” I asked.
“For letting me walk on my own, without acting like I needed a bodyguard on my arm to navigate a hallway,” she said.
I smiled down at her, thankful that my efforts to curtail my over-protectiveness hadn’t gone unnoticed.
We were guided to our table and sat down with menus. There was an older couple next to us, smiling and giggling at each other as they ate. I hadn’t noticed them before, and I could tell by the look on Abby’s face that she hadn’t either. Her eyes were sparkling as she watched the two of them interact. They held hands the whole time, the elderly woman smiled and laughed at her husband.
“Hello,” Abby said.
I panned my gaze over to her as the elderly woman gave her a kind smile.
“Hello there,” she said. “Are the two of you having fun?”
“Oh, yes,” Abby said. “Loads. This is my first cruise ever, so I’m really taking it all in.”
“This is our first, too,” the elderly man said. “I’m Bernie, by the way, and this is my wife, Doris.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Abby, and this is my fiancé, Colin.”
“A pleasure,” I said.
“Oh, he’s handsome, sweetheart,” Doris said.
“I know. I caught me a good one,” Abby said.
“What are you guys celebrating?” Bernie asked.
“Our engagement,” I said, as I eyed Abby closely.
“We didn’t get a chance to properly party directly after he popped the question,” Abby said, grinning. “Work meetings and all.”
“Oh, the younger crowd stays so busy,” Doris said. “I’m glad the two of you are taking time to be with each other now. It’s really important.”
“It is. We’ve been married fifty years. Trust us, it is very important,” Bernie said.
“Fifty years?” I asked. “That’s incredible. Congratulations.”
“Yes, sir. Fifty years as of yesterday, and she looks just as beautiful as the day I married her,” Bernie said.
The smile on Abby’s face was bright with happiness as she watched the two of them interact.
“What are you two getting yourselves into today? I don’t believe we dock until tomorrow,” Doris said.
“I’m not really sure,” I said. “We took in that show last night—”
“Oh, so did we! That comedian was so funny. And not vulgar at all, which is so hard to find sometimes,” Bernie said.
“I know, right?” Abby said. “It was nice to find a clean comedian that was actually funny.”
“Does vulgar comedy offend you?” I asked.
“Not really, but it does get old,” Abby said.
“Good to know,” I said, grinning.
“Well, if the two of you don’t have plans, why don’t you join us?” Doris asked. “We were going to head to that piano bar and listen to some music.”
“Are those open right now?” Abby asked.
“Yes, the only thing not open right now is the dance club,” Bernie said.
“There’s a dance club?” Abby asked.
“Oh yes, sweetheart. Bernie and I will be dancing there later,” Doris said.
“We would love to join you in the lounge. Is that okay with you, Abby?”
“I would love to,” she said.
The four of us wrapped up lunch before we headed to the piano bar. I felt like meeting this couple was a sign for us. Fifty years of marriage and they still looked at each other the way I looked at Abby. I could see the way her eyes lit up with joy whenever they shared an intimate moment. Whenever Bernie took his wife’s hand or whenever Doris leaned over to kiss her husband’s cheek, Abby was taking it all in, and I could see her being swept away with ideas of what could be. Ideas of how her life could turn out.
We couldn’t have met this couple at a more appropriate time.
“So,” Bernie said, as we all sat down, “what do the two of you do for a living?”
“Well, I’m the owner and CEO of Murphy, Inc.,” I said.
“And I’m his public relations representative,” Abby said.
“A businessman! Well, I own one myself. A string of hardware stores in my hometown,” Bernie said.
“And I’m his accountant. And payroll. And manager. And sales representative if someone calls out sick,” Doris said.
“I’m the brains, she’s the brawn,” Bernie said, laughing.
Abby was giggling right along with them, her smile bright as our drinks were delivered to us.
“So, CEO of Murphy, Inc., huh? What business are you in, son?” Bernie asked.
“Are you familiar with the internet platform that’s geared towards entrepreneurs? The one with the discussion forums and the podcasts?”
The elderly couple was staring at me like I’d grown a third eyeball in the middle of my head.
“The thing in the news that’s having the language issues?” Abby asked.
“Oh, yes! The company with the—the translation issues. Yeah. That company’s supposedly, what did the news say, honey?” Bernie asked.
“The news said that the website was ‘changing the way
