“Come here.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Making a bed.” I patted the space between my legs. “Curl up.”
She hesitated for half a second—long enough for me to see the debate cross her face—but she climbed down beside me and settled back against my chest. I pulled the blanket over both of us, tucking it around her shoulders, sealing the warmth between our bodies.
The night air on the open ocean carried a bite, but with her weight against me and the blanket cocooning us, the cold didn’t reach very far.
She let out a soft sigh, and her body relaxed into mine—gradually, as if she had to give herself permission.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The Mariner moved through the water with a low, steady rumble. Above us, the sky was bright and beautiful, an impossible spread of stars stretching from horizon to horizon, the Milky Way visible as a pale river cutting through the center.
Sloane shifted, resting her head against my shoulder. Her hair smelled like salt water.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
Her fingers traced idle patterns on the fabric of my shirt, absent and slow, as if she didn’t realize she was doing it, but after a long silence, she spoke again. Her voice came softly, carefully.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
She tilted her head back slightly so she could look up at me; the starlight caught in her eyes.
“How long were you married?”
The question startled me, landing like a stone dropped into still water.
My body went still. I stared up at the stars for a moment, my jaw working around nothing. I had no idea she even knew I was married. I never talked about my personal life at work, and Sadie was not one to come to the aquarium.
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
“Fifteen years.”
She didn’t push, her thumb still tracing slow lines on my chest; I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Met her in college,” I continued quietly. “Her name was Sadie. She was studying finance. I’d just come out of the military, still trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life after the Marines.” A faint, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “She used to call me a walking bad decision.”
Sloane snorted softly. “Sounds accurate.”
“Yeah, well. She had good instincts.”
The boat rocked beneath us, the rhythm slow and steady, almost meditative.
I stared out across the dark water where the stars reflected in broken points of light on the surface.
“She was good,” I said after a moment. “Patient. Way more patient than I deserved, especially early on. I came out of the service angry at everything, and she just… absorbed it. Waited me out. I don’t think I understood what that cost her until later.”
Sloane’s hand stilled on my chest. Her voice softened.
“What happened?”
I hesitated.