It’s hard to think coherently. Knowing Cora is on this boat, naked, showering. Wondering what she chose to dress in tonight. Very much aware that my fingers have been soaked by her. My wallet bears her f*****g teeth marks.
Without thinking I put my hand in my pocket and feel around the damaged leather.
We should have been on Joali tonight. All the visions I had of showing Cora our rustic sea-surrounded hut, letting her feet dangle into the sea before revealing our own swim-up pool and spectacular four-poster bed have been put on hold.
All because Blair didn’t like the look of the propeller plane.
Sol explained it as, “It just unnerved her. She was terrified of it. I couldn’t put her through it.”
I don’t say a word. But I imagine her finding out my dad owned this yacht suddenly made
