Bad Cruz(43)

When we got to our room, Mrs. Warren was waiting for us, sans Fred, looking mighty smug as she sipped a colorful cocktail with extra umbrellas.

“Been waitin’ for you.” She grinned around her straw. She held an uncanny resemblance to Ursula the Disney sea witch.

“Let me guess. Lost your butt plugs and immediately thought to check in to see if we stole them,” I muttered, clutching my purse closer to my body instinctively.

Cruz’s head twisted as he flashed me a look full of amusement and murder.

Clap.

I’d forgotten I had company and wasn’t supposed to be my usual rude self.

“Butt what now?” She put her hand to her ear.

I shook my head. “Never mind. Why’re you here, Mrs. Warren, other than the obvious—to bless my life with more happy moments and fond memories?”

We stopped by our door, which she was blocking. She crossed her arms over her ample chest. The other day, when she demanded to get into our room, I’d lost it.

I lost it, because I knew it was exactly the kind of mistake I could make, then remembered that the suitcases were, in fact, placed quite far away from one another.

But I also knew (sensibly) that no one would believe it was unintentional if I’d gotten it wrong. When teenage boys can take pictures of your ass…while pinching it, you know the world isn’t fair or on your side.

“Just thought you should know everybody on the ship knows that you tried to steal my jewelry. I thought it would be a general service to warn people.”

“Okay. Let’s pretend like I care. Now move away.”

“But you should care.”

Her eyes swung from me to Cruz, her smile widening.

Pluck, she was rotten.

I didn’t understand what inspired some people to want to hurt others so much. Surely if you disliked someone so deeply, you would avoid them at any cost and forget their existence.

Trying to inflict pain on someone only showed one thing—that you were the one who was hurting.

“You should care, because there’s someone on this boat who knows who one of y’all really is.”

My heart fell.

For real? How was being a teen mom as many years ago newsworthy outside of my tiny town’s limits.

“That’s right, Dr. Wiseass.” Only for once it wasn’t me with the spotlight of shame—she was looking at Cruz. “Apparently, one of your med school buddies is here with his wife. He knows you’re here with a call girl. Or whatever this woman is to you. Not your actual wife. Don’t think we’re that dumb. No one in their right mind would marry this trailer trash.”

“Call her that one more time to my face, and I’ll be sure you spend your night being interrogated by security once I report you. You’re harassing us, and I won’t stand for that,” Cruz delivered the words like bullets, blow after blow, icy and poised.

“Aw. You’ve gotten attached, haven’t you? You’re just a meal ticket to her.”

“You’re in my way, Mrs. Warren. Move, or I’ll be sure to move you myself. Friendly tip: I won’t be nice about it.”

Satisfied she’d delivered quite a blow, Mrs. Warren flounced across the hallway and toward the elevator bank. I pushed the door open, waiting for Cruz to walk inside.

“Look, it’s all cruise gossip. And what are the chances this med school person even knows someone in Fairhope they could tell this to? It’s nonsense,” I said. “And why would anyone even care?”

I hated that I had to excuse my existence, but I had to admit I was far from the realm of the women who usually hung on his arm. I wasn’t a petite brunette with a liberal arts degree in gender studies and dance management.

Although I did have a three-hundred-dollar dress that looked deliberately wrinkled now, so we were definitely getting somewhere closer.

Cruz seemed cold and unresponsive as he moved around the room. I got it. I did. Up until now, it was all fun and games.

We’d adopted a false last name—Weiner. Under the guise of a married couple with a very strange sex life.

No one knew us here, and our little shenanigans had been nothing but harmless fun. Now, reality was mixing up with the bubble he’d thought was unburstable. He wasn’t used to being less than perfect, and I was cramping his style, big time. This served as a reminder that out there, in the real world, our lives couldn’t interwine. They’d forever collide.

“It’s fine,” Cruz drawled. “Hop into the shower.”

“I’ll talk to Mrs. Warren myself. Explain everything.” I followed him around the tiny room, apologetic all of a sudden.

He turned to me sharply. “Don’t you dare.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a mean piece of work, and I don’t want you to contribute to her power trip. Besides, you’re right. As far as I know, this person knows no one in my life. I only kept in touch with a handful of friends, and I know for a fact that none of them are on this cruise.”

“And anyway,” I added cooperatively, my soul dying inside, “even if it’s someone who knows you—so what? Our families know we’re together on a cruise, and I am the one who is accused of being a thief and a prostitute. You’re just the man who begrudgingly shares a room with me.”

“True.” Cruz stroked his chin, mulling this over.