Suddenly, another thought hit me.
What if Theo didn’t care about me at all?
What if all he’d wanted was to get in my pants?
The thought struck me so hard that I jolted upright, tracing back through our time together, wondering if everything he’d said had been a lie, a ruse to get me to fall into him, to trust him, to give myself to him. I thought of what he’d said about being my master that morning in Nice. I thought of the hungry look in his eyes when we were in the hot tub, the way he wanted me so fiercely he couldn’t hide it. I thought of the pool party, and the Grotto, and then he’d kept his hands to himself until…
Last night.
When I’d denied him.
And Joel went to him the very next morning with a proposal to send me home.
Why wouldn’t he want me gone after last night?
Theo isn’t a liar.
He had no reason to lie.
He wouldn’t do that… my brain tried to argue.
But he had.
He had agreed with Joel. He’d booked a car and a flight before even speaking to me, and now I was leaving and there was nothing I could do about any of it.
I was a fool.
A silly, impressionable fool.
I meant nothing to him.
I let my head fall back against the dresser, but no more tears came. Instead, I blinked my dry eyes up at the ceiling, wondering how I could have been so stupid, how I could have messed my life up so royally in just one summer.
But it didn’t matter now.
It didn’t matter that Joel broke up with me. It didn’t matter that Theo no longer wanted me either.
It was done. It was decided.
In a matter of hours, I’d be off the yacht and en route back to Colorado.
Summer was over.
It felt like my life was, too.
After I packed, I went to the bar on the main deck and poured myself a drink.
I had no idea what I was doing. I never drank. But I’d also never been broken up with or felt so numb I wondered if I was even still human.
I’d heard my parents say throughout certain times in their life that they needed a drink.
Suddenly, I understood that feeling.
I selected a vodka and mixed it with cranberry juice, a cocktail I knew my mom enjoyed. Then, I sat down in one of the bar stools with my backpack propped next to me and took my first sip.
I grimaced. It was awful.
“Try adding a little lime juice,” a voice said, and I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Emma yawning and sidling up next to me. The silver in her hair reflected the late morning light as she eyed the drink in my hand. “Or just give it to me since I need a little hair of the dog.” She winked. “You don’t drink, anyway, and today doesn’t seem like a good time to start.”
I sighed, sliding the glass toward her. “Feels like the perfect day to start, actually.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to lean on alcohol to try to fix things. That’s how you end up vomiting and crying to a stranger in the bathroom of a bar at two in the morning.” She laughed a little, but her smile fell when I couldn’t return the gesture. “I heard about you and Joel. I’m sorry.”
That got a laugh out of me. “Don’t be.”
“Are you okay? I know you really loved him.”
My heart twisted in my chest, but it wasn’t Joel who came to mind when Emma said those words. “I’ll be okay.”
“That’s the spirit,” she said, taking a sip of my drink. Then, she grimaced just as I had. “Ugh, Aspen, this thing is like seventy-five percent vodka. No wonder you hated it.”
“I figured go big or go home,” I said, then I gestured to my bag. “Looks like it’s the latter for me.”
Emma frowned, reaching over to squeeze my arm. “Hey, my offer to visit Austria still stands. Any time you want, okay? I’ll show you around. My mom will be over the moon when I tell her I have an American coming to visit. She’ll fatten you up in just two weeks, mark my words.”
I nodded, trying to smile, but tears flooded my eyes. I thought they were all gone, that I was dried up, but my numbness was beginning to fade into despair again.
“Oh, sweetie,” Emma said, opening her arms. “It’ll be alright.”
Emma held me as I fought back the urge to cry, her hand rubbing my back tenderly. For someone who’d never married or had kids, she had the touch of a mother, and I leaned into the comfort she provided.
She was still holding me like that when someone cleared their throat, and Emma released me, both of us turning to find Theo in the salon.
“Might I have a word?” he asked, his eyes on me.
Just the sight of him made more tears prick my eyes — his mussed hair, the bags under his eyes, the frown line etched deep between his brows. I wanted to launch myself into his arms, wrap myself around him, hold on tight and beg him not to make me go.
He slid his hands in his pockets, and Emma stood, patting my arm.
“I’ll be working on the laundry if you need me,” she said, offering me a sympathetic smile. Then, she nodded at Theo and excused herself.
We were alone then, and with Theo’s eyes on me, I couldn’t help but remember the first time I saw them. I couldn’t help but think of how they’d rendered me speechless, rendered me stupid, rendered me
