“It’s cool for the Moreau Brothers to lend you their boat. That’s very generous of them,” she appraises. “Was this a wedding gift from one set of your business partners?”
Struck with incredulity, I scoff, “Gift… my black ass. Try rental,” I reply. Those cheap asses—well, mostly Jacques. “Jean was the one who offered it when I’d done a little idle chatting about wedding planning over lunch a few months ago, just after the holidays. It was Jacques’ hating ass that brought up the payment for a rental. Not that I’d expected them to hand over the keys without me giving them something for it. Jean mentioned it being underutilized and it would be a great run for her.” I shake my head recollecting the conversation.
“When the paperwork came through for my signature, Jacques made sure to include that we must use their crew because they’re ‘most acquainted with the equipment.’ And the crew had its own set of fees. I took it with his conditions,” I shrug.
“This must have cost you a fortune,” Rayna notes.
My brows peak to acknowledge her statement, but I’m not prepared to elaborate on an answer. I’ve spent double of what the average refurbished home costs in an urban city—something Rayna doesn’t have to know—but every penny is worth the excitement that’s vibrating off her right now. She enjoyed her wedding day, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.
“Hey, did you catch Boyd on the dance floor?” Rayna thankfully switches gears. “Who knew that grizzly teddy bear of a man could move so gracefully.” She chuckles and I join her. Boyd thought he was on Dance Fever last night.
“And Kim...” Rayna’s eyes grow wide. “...she was grinding on Petey like they were making their next baby!” She breaks out into a fit. I smile at her humor. The last thing Crack needs is another offspring.
“And Chanell!” Rayna’s laughter explodes to a new octave. “She ate like a horse, drank like fish, danced like NFL cheerleader, and wondered why she ended her time on the boat puking her guts out!”
I shake my head at that memory. Rayna can’t slow her laughing, reminiscing about it. Chanell didn’t enjoy her last couple of hours on the yacht.
Rayna rides out her jollity, breathing in fresh air, taking a moment to eat more fruit.
“Chyna and her plotting-partner was a bit much, I know,” she murmurs, looking out into the water. “I can’t believe how much of her childhood I’ve missed…running.”
There’s a long pause, both of us relaxing peacefully with ruminative thoughts running.
“And Erin...” My chest squeezes at the lowliness in her voice awakening me from my private thoughts. “Azmir, how were you able to pull that off?” she gazes deeply into my eyes.
I reach out and pull her closer to me as I remain on my side. I know she appreciates my effort, and that’s all that matters to me. We lay this way and talk for hours—well, mostly Rayna talks, and I absorb the fumes of her elation. We order a proper lunch while splayed out pads, chasing the waves ahead of us.
Fatigue from a lack of sleep, along with being underneath the sun wears on us. Rayna’s chatter slows and her eyes start to slant. The deck crewmember brings our food out, asking where he should set it up. I tell him over on the west side of the boat, in the lounge area. He sets off to that direction.
“Let’s get out of this sun,” I suggest as I shift to get up and leave the stern.
“Wait,” she calls out lazily. “I don’t want to leave just yet. This spot is everything. I want to stay here, wrapped in your arms all day.”
Little does she know; I feel precisely the same, but in my plan, we’d be more entwined. I keep that thought to myself as I reach for her hand. She takes it and lazily rises from the floorboard.
“Oooh,” she cries out as she slams into my chest. “I gotta pee.”
“Go handle your business,” I order. “I’ll wait over there for you.”
I saunter over to the side deck, collapsing on the padded bench. My body is drained as fuck. I close my eyes until I hear Rayna return. We eat in companionable silence and mutual exhaustion, and afterwards she cuddles up underneath me. We watch another super yacht pass us, pointing out the luxury features we can observe from afar. Then things get quiet. Rayna’s out like a light. Uncharacteristic, blissful chatter can do that to an otherwise guarded woman, I guess.
A female crewmember comes to clear breakfast and offers to bring a blanket to cover a tulle-attired Rayna. As I agree to it, I smile, ego filling my chest at her picking out this sexy nightgown to wear for me, as my wife. I’d love to rip it off her, but clearly she’s just as enervated as I feel. Minutes later, the crewmember returns with the blanket, collapsing it on top of us and that’s the last thing I process before I go under my damn self.
~~~~~~~~~~