“To the absent, but not missed Enzo, who was the first to insist we could break the record.” Demario lifted his glass to the windows and our missing Enzo who would not be making the race even after he’d bought one of the boats. “To Armaud for having the connections to secure our time and space in the shipyard.”
Glasses went in Dax’s direction.
“And to Langley for designing the most beautiful boat I’ve ever set eyes on.”
Violet’s eyes grew wide. More things I hadn’t told her.
“Dax and I designed them together,” I deflected.
Dax grinned. “I designed all the important parts—in other words, the décor.”
Laughter.
“Regardless of the winner of the race, and regardless of how I griped about buying one of the damn boats, itisnice to know we’re starting on equal footing,” Demario continued. “Here’s to taking a journey that took our ancestors months and turning it into a matter of hours. May the best team win.”
“Us,” Angelica coughed loudly into her hand, and everyone laughed.
“To knowing what you want and going after it,” I said, and damn if my eyes didn’t wander to Violet again.
???
The sky was still a pale gray when I ran through a final check on the weather and the currents with Dax. We’d take turns at the helm, but even then, the next two and half days were going to be brutal. I should have gotten more rest over the last three nights.
Instead, I’d been haunted, yet again, the night before with the same things that had haunted me the prior two. But this time, champagne scents and Violet’s slim frame pressed into mine as she kissed me had been added to them. I’d been hard and uncomfortable, and even after forcing my own manual release, I’d still craved her. If anything, it had only made it worse because it wasn’t my moan or my release I wanted to experience. I wanted to have hers. I wanted it to belong to me.
I shook my head.
I needed to stay focused.
Proving the boats could make it across the Atlantic in record time was all I should have been thinking about. Proving the yachts were ready to transport whatever theKyodainawanted was necessary. Years of planning had gone into making this exact moment a reality.
Demario had pulled his boat into the slip next to theAda Maeovernight. He and Angelica were going through the same last-minute steps. While Dax and I had chosen sleek, almost stealth-like colors for our yacht, Demario had chosen the colors of the Italian flag for his. It looked like a Christmas wreath, but who was I to complain.
Between Demario and Enzo buying their yachts from us, they’d almost paid for our boat completely. Three for the price of two. Plus, the shipyard was all too happy to back the rest of it. They wanted their name tied to these earth-shattering designs.
If Enzo’s mother hadn’t passed away, he would have been at the dock, setting up just like us. It would have been three equally made boats, racing to land in Tarifa, the skill of the pilots being the only difference.
As the sky began to turn from gray to orange, a crowd appeared on the pier. The news outlets had been alerted by Jada, Dax, and the yacht club shouting it out all over their social media accounts. Demario’s family was there. Dax’s family had wanted to be, but the timing had been off with his mom on set in Bali. My family was not, but, as if he could hear my thoughts, Truck texted me.
TRUCK: Be safe. Have fun. Bring the fucking cup home.
ME: That’s the plan. Wish me luck.
TRUCK: Luck!
It was an exchange we’d used since we were kids. A way of acknowledging we had someone not only cheering us on, but also waiting for us to come back when there were very few people in our lives who were. I swallowed back the emotions I felt whenever we used the words these days. There’d been years when we hadn’t said them at all. When I’d lost myself in pity and despair, and he’d been angry at the world for a failing grade he hadn’t earned that had cost him a year of his life.
“We’ve come to wish you well,” Jada’s voice said, and the noise of her feet clambering onto the deck had me whipping my head around.
Violet was with her. She was in the blue jacket she’d been wearing the night I’d found her on the kitchen floor. The one she’d had nothing but a bra on underneath. Today, I could see a thick sweater sticking out from beneath the collar.
Better covered in multiple layers of clothes than in the barely-there dress she’d had on the night before. The one I’d longed to take off of her slowly and steadily but had, instead, sent her away with a drunk Jada.
Her eyes journeyed to my lips as she approached, just like when we’d said goodnight the previous evening.
“Vi,” I said, a deep grunt that had everyone around us smirking.
I wanted to roll my eyes at myself. Smack the back of my head in the way Truck used to. Kick my rear out of the images and distraction of her.
