Shipped(70)

“No!” I explode. “I really don’t know how to say this any more clearly. I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.” I enunciate each word so it’s sharper than a dagger.

Nikolai takes two stumbling steps back. “Oh, I…” He sniffs. His shoulders quiver.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m—” A wet snuffle escapes him. Tears slip from the corners of his eyes and trickle along the side of his long nose.

“Are you crying?”

He answers me with a noisy sob.

Great. I made a guest cry. “Here. Just, get in here.” I yank him by the arm into my cabin. Every ingrained instinct screams, “Don’t let a strange man into your cabin!” and not only because staff aren’t allowed to have guests in their cabins. But this is Nikolai. I believed Dwight when he told me he’s not inherently terrible. Misguided and a wee bit goofy? Yes. A dangerous predator? Well, you never really know about people (men), but in this case, I’m willing to wager a no.

Besides, Graeme is hiding in the bathroom merely a few feet away. All it’d take is one scream and he’d come running.

Graeme. My thighs clench together and my heartbeat stutters. I need to get Nikolai calmed down and out of here. Stat.

I steer Nikolai, who is trying—and failing—to hold back his flood of tears, toward the two beds. I intend to sit him down on my bed, but Graeme’s shirt is lying conspicuously in front of it, so I turn Nikolai at the last minute and push him down onto the edge of Walsh’s unmade bed instead.

With my back to Nikolai, I snag Graeme’s shirt and stuff it under the desk before picking up a box of tissues and offering it to him. He plucks one out with a wobbly nod and blows his nose. The sound reverberates through the cabin like a tuba.

“I am so sorry,” he says, crumpling up his tissue. “I know my personality can be strong. Perhaps I have bothered you on this cruise.”

“Well?” Yeah. You have.

“It is only… you look like her.”

I sink onto the bed opposite him. “Who?”

“My ex-fiancée, Emily.” Dragging his wrist across his nose, he digs in his back pocket and pulls out his phone. A swipe and a few taps later, he holds it up so I can see the screen.

My mouth falls open. An image of a smiling woman stares back at me—and holy Moses does she look like me. Her cheeks are a little rounder and she’s built a little stockier, but we have the same long, layered haircut, the same light brown eyes, similar noses (hers has a more pronounced bump in the bridge), and the same thick, dark eyebrows.

He certainly has a type. No wonder he never gave Walsh a second look.

Nikolai lowers the phone with a last longing gaze at the picture.

“What really happened between you two?” I ask.

His shoulders sag. “I broke off our engagement, it is true. But not because she did something wrong.” He swallows hard and a tear spills down his flushed cheek. “She’s too good for me. I knew it was only a matter of time before she would wake up one day, realize the truth, and leave me. So, I left her first.”

“Let me get this straight. You dumped her because you don’t think you deserve her?”

“She is the perfect woman. She likes riding horses and singing carols on Christmas and she is the kindest person you will ever meet. Her smile could cure the world of sickness and her laugh sounds like angels.” He heaves a sigh of pure misery. “How could I ever deserve her?”

“Why wouldn’t you deserve her? You’re a smart, successful chiropractor. You didn’t hesitate to jump in and save me when I fell out of the kayak. You’re like a son to Dwight. And your dance moves…”

He tilts his chin up, eyes wide. “Yes?”

“Well, I’ve never seen anything like them.” Puffing my cheeks, I exhale. “Clearly, you’re still hung up on her. Why all this with me then?”

Bracing his elbows on his spread knees, he hangs his head. “I think, if I could only make myself be with another woman, then maybe I forget her. If you and I—” He forms a circle with one hand and halfheartedly pumps his index finger through it. “Then perhaps I can finally break this hold she has over my heart.”

With a deep sigh, he shakes his head sadly. “But now, sitting here, I realize that will never happen, because there is no other woman in the world for me except her. I’ve been so stupid.” He lumbers to his feet and edges toward the door. “I leave you alone now. My sincere apologies.”

Running my tongue along the edges of my teeth, I stand. “You need to call her.”

“Why? What is the point?”

“Tell her everything you just told me. Everything that’s happened.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Even the…” He pistons his arms like he’s kayaking.

“Yep.”

“And the…” He shimmies his shoulders.

“Uh-huh. I mean, you don’t need to tell her you were hitting on another woman. Just be honest about your feelings.”

“What if she hates me? What if she wants me to be shot by firing squad and my limbs dragged to the four corners of the earth by wild horses?”

I wince. “She might.” His face falls. On an impulse, I grip his shoulder. “But you love her. That’s obvious. And if you love her, you need to tell her. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering ‘what if.’ If you’re honest with her about your feelings, even if she says it’s over for good, at least you’ll know you tried.”