sides and fell to the carpet as she left her room and headed for the deck.
On the port side of the boat were a series of sun loungers. Despite the evening weather, half of them were already occupied with lone travelers who’d had more or less the same idea as Keira. She selected one, laying her snacks out before her and placing the champagne bottle onto the table beside her.
As she settled in, the boat began to move. The sensation was bizarre, a sort of lurching undulation unlike anything her body had ever experienced before. Thinking now was as good a time as any, she grabbed her champagne bottle and popped the cork. Then, realizing she’d forgotten to take the cup from her room, she shrugged and took a swig straight from the bottle. Classy? No. But she didn’t care.
She looked over her shoulder as Berlin began to grow smaller, its lights turning into little more than twinkling stars. Then she turned the other way and looked out at the blackness, at the ocean and dark sky, filled with excitement. She raised her glass to the air, toasting herself, her independence, and toasting the trip and all the new possibilities that lay ahead of her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Slightly tipsy from the champagne, Keira felt her stomach begin to complain. Minibar food and plane food might have been sufficient for sober Keira, but tipsy Keira was ravenous. Plus, the bubbles made her bolder, and so she headed toward the dining room for dinner alone.
The dining room was as opulent as the rest of the ship, Art Deco as well. There was hardly anyone here at this time of evening, since it was approaching ten p.m. now. Keira followed a server to a small table that was positioned right beside the huge glass windows, affording her a wonderful view out to the open decks and the ocean beyond. She scanned the menu, pleased that it was written in English. She didn’t feel like accidentally eating anything as exotic as the things Cristiano had in France!
It did feel very strange sitting alone. She had become accustomed to looking up from her menu and seeing Cristiano’s gorgeous face. But no, not now, and she refused to get upset about it. She’d toasted her future, after all. It was all about being bold and independent now.
Although… it had been a long time since she’d spoken to Shane. She wondered how the family was since his father had passed. There was no Cristiano to glare jealously at her anymore, or make her feel bad about caring about her other ex’s tumult. Maybe she should get back in touch with him, see how he was doing…
Before she had a chance to get her cell phone out of her bag, Keira became very aware of the sensation of eyes upon her. She turned her head and saw a woman at a nearby table quickly look away. She frowned and turned back to her table. Distracted from whatever it was she’d been about to do, she began to peruse her menu again.
The server returned then, taking Keira’s order of a salted beef sandwich, fries, and Coke, before heading away. Keira followed his trajectory, looking over her shoulder to see whether she was still being observed by the woman. She was.
Her heart started to hammer then. Was it because she was alone? Way to make her feel worse about it, Keira thought. Surely people did this all the time, dining alone, being brave and independent. She couldn’t be the first person in the world that lady had ever seen eating dinner in her own company!
Her food arrived, and Keira ate with purpose, her ears burning from the sensation of being watched. She wondered whether everyone was looking at her with such judgment. But whenever she glanced about her at the few other diners they were all occupied with themselves, their own companions, their conversation, and their food. Only the middle-aged woman behind her seemed to be staring.
Keira grew more and more frustrated as she ate, formulating rebukes in her head for the woman along the lines of “Did no one ever teach you it’s rude to stare?” As her fries diminished, she worked herself up into something of a frenzy, gearing herself up to go over and say something. When her plate was empty, she turned to discover the woman had gone. The moment had passed.
So it was with great alarm she turned back to her table and discovered the woman standing over her. Keira squealed loudly.
“Sorry!” the woman said, holding her hands up. She had a Texan accent. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”
She was blond, with a heart-shaped face and delicate features.
“Where did you come from?” Keira exclaimed, looking around her, her heart racing with shock.
“I was just watching you all through dinner because I recognized your face,” the woman admitted.
She was blushing suddenly. She pulled something from her purse and handed it to Keira. To Keira’s surprise she was looking at an image of herself, in black and white, looking like a film star. And there was Cristiano. It was the front cover of Viatorum. The Paris issue.
“Oh,” Keira said, feeling a strange sense of loss over the sight of the image.
“It is you, isn’t it?” the woman asked hopefully.
“Yeah,” Keira replied, sounding glum. “That’s me.”
The woman clapped her hands. “I knew it! I knew it! None of my friends believed me.” She pointed to the bar, where the rest of her party had moved after vacating the dining table, and gave the four other women watching a thumbs-up.
The whole thing felt extremely odd to Keira. First Meredith in the office, then the taxi driver, and now this woman. She was becoming recognizable, something that, as a writer, she’d never really wanted to be! She knew she shouldn’t have taken the cover image. It was so mortifying to be recognized from that silly, fantastical image rather than the more sensible one in her by-line!
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