And we always looked at it like that, too. Alex is with Will. Alex is taking care of Will. Alex keeps Will company.

But none of that was really true. She hung onto him just as much as he hung onto her.

“He didn’t deserve you,” I tell her. “Your roommate’s boyfriend.”

She stares at me for a moment, looking a little pained, but then she lets out a sigh and forces a smile.

“Yeah, no one does,” she jokes. “Not for less than five hundred an hour anyway.”

I give her a pointed look at her sudden change in demeanor. “Alex…”

But she rolls us over and the next thing I know, her head is on my chest. “Rub my head now,” she demands.

I pause there, aggravated she’s changing the subject and putting up that façade again, but she holds me, dressed in her tank and underwear, and swings a long, naked leg over me. I let out a quiet laugh. Hiding behind playfulness. Will does that, too.

I start to rub her head, but then the cabin door opens, and we both look over, seeing Banks standing in the doorway.

She stops dead, her eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline as she catches us in our little, cuddly embrace.

Her mouth forms an O, and she starts to back out, closing the door.

“Get in here,” I call out. “We’re not doing anything.”

For crying out loud.

She stops, a half-smile curling her lips and she comes back in, closing the door behind her.

“And get that constipated look off your face,” Alex says.

Banks heads over to the bed, dressed in some workout clothes, same as me, but her hair is down. “Brat,” she spits out.

Laying at my side, she joins me in giving Alex a scalp massage, except Banks’ massage looks more like how you rub a dog’s head, curling her fingers and lightly scratching.

“Stop that,” Alex barks at her. “I hate you.”

Banks and I both start to laugh. She has like fifty-eight dogs—okay, not that many, but a lot—so petting probably comes naturally to her.

I glance at Banks. “Mads okay?”

“Yup,” she says. “At your mom’s with the nannies, and hopefully Ivarsen by now, too.”

Awesome. My mom is in baby heaven lately. Kai’s mom, Vittoria, and her happily walking the streets of Thunder Bay and buying all the things for their grandsons. I’m surprised Ivarsen doesn’t have a car already. You know, just for when he’s ready.

“Where’s Winter?” I ask her.

“Probably getting Damon-ed in the back seat of a car. She’ll be here.”

I snort. I think Winter lets him do anything he wants as much as he wants during this time, because she can’t get pregnant if she’s already pregnant.

“And Michael?” Alex chimes in.

“On his way,” I reply.

Alex lifts up her head, and I stop rubbing her. “So…” She looks at Banks. “You and Kai.” And then to me. “You and Michael. And Damon and Winter, and…”

“Misha and Ryen,” I offer. They’ll be here, because Misha is Will’s cousin, so we have business he wants to be involved in.

“Misha and Ryen,” she repeats absently. “And what am I supposed to do while everyone else takes ‘breaks’ tonight?”

She put “breaks” in air quotes as if she won’t get any hot, little downtime, too.

Oh, who will she find to play with?

“There’s a full crew,” I assure her.

Her eyes go wide.

“And David and Lev will be boarding with Damon,” Banks adds.

She gasps and then her face scrunches up into a delighted squeal. “It’s like Christmas and my birthday together.”

I ruffle her hair and roll her over, giving her quick pecks on the nose and cheek. “We got you. Don’t worry.”

She laughs, and Banks and I hop off the bed, heading for the door.

“Eight o’clock,” I tell Alex, grabbing my AirPods and phone off the dresser.

She still lays in bed but gives me a thumbs up as she pulls her phone off the charger. I hesitate a moment, watching her and realizing that no matter how many people are in her life, there’s something about her that always seems alone.

Banks and I leave, closing the door and walking down the corridor. She stops at her and Kai’s cabin. “Eight o’clock,” she says and pushes open her door.

I unlock my phone, already speed-dialing. “See you soon.”

And I hold the phone to my ear, taking the stairs up to bridge deck.

The line rings twice before I hear Mr. Lyle’s voice. “Ms. Fane,” he says.

“Hi,” I tell him. “Take this info, please.”

There’s silence, and then I hear him again. “Okay, ready.”

“Alexandra Zoe Palmer, apartment 1608 at Delcour. Find her freshman year college roommate,” I instruct. “And the woman’s boyfriend that year, as well. Possibly a student at Yale at the time. I want the works by tomorrow.”

“Got it.”

“Thank you.”

I hang up and step onto the bridge. I probably shouldn’t pry in Alex’s life, but I haven’t decided if I’m going to yet. At least if I do, I’ll be ready.

George Barris stands at the helm, going through his checklist and his first mate Samara Chen works at her station. I see faxes spitting out of the machine and I tear them off, reading them.

Pithom has a satellite weather system, but the captain likes to double up on precaution. Which is good.

I look over the weather reports and nod, satisfied. “You can take us out of the harbor,” I tell him, starting to leave again. “Drop anchor about a mile out, and we’ll wait for Mr. Crist.”

“Yes, Ms. Fane.”

I leave the papers for them and start to exit the bridge, but I stop, staring out the port-side window and seeing the stewards carrying a couple of suitcases on board. Someone else has arrived. A light layer of sweat cools my back and my stomach knots, but I know it’s not Michael. He won’t be in from Seattle for a couple hours.

Heading out, I descend the stairs to the owner’s deck again, and make my way through the sitting area. I stop and pick a few pieces of prosciutto and cheese off the platter and stuff a slice of meat into my mouth.

I walk out to the sun deck, the dying light behind us, and see Damon standing at the edge of the boat looking down at the darkening water.

His eyebrows are pinched, and I cup my food in my hand, leaning against a column and watch him as I chew. The last time I stood where he stands, Will was in the water with a cinderblock tied to his ankle and Trevor was trying to kill me. Will and I were almost lost that night.

“Sometimes,” Damon says, breaking the silence. “I let my mind wander enough, and it always comes back here.”

He breathes hard, staring at the water as I stick a cube of cheese in my mouth.

“Except Michael doesn’t catch him, and you never come up.”

He turns and sits on the ledge, sliding his hands into his pockets and our eyes meet.

I see our mother in him now. A lot.

I didn’t before. The way his eyes go big and round, and it takes a moment to be sure whether or not they’re happily surprised or pissed off. The way he says what he wants and doesn’t like to lie. The way they both hate being alone.