Thirty-Two
I did sleep like the dead on the way to Barcelona—for most of the trip. I woke in the early morning on our last day at sea and stared at the ceiling, rocking on my bed with the boat. Themis was moving more than I’d felt before, the room tilted, the waves splashing against the hull beside me.
My thoughts kept turning to Seb. When we’d had our night in Antigua, maybe getting immediately sacked had been for the best, because this time it had gone beyond one night and I felt obsessed. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Instead of a single hot night, we’d had so much more, and I ached.
A rumble emanated from my stomach and I peeled myself out of bed, grateful for a distraction. I dressed and walked toward the galley, bracing myself against the walls as Themis heeled over.
When w
