I hadn’t seen her in six years, three months, and—if I wanted to be pathetic about it—eleven days. Not that I was counting.

But there she was, standing at the bar, twisting a cocktail napkin between her fingers. Same eyes, same mouth, same tilt of her head when she was lost in thought.

Same ability to make my stomach drop like a goddamn elevator in free fall.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand down my face. Of course she was here. I was the idiot who suggested this cruise, after all. Maybe if I had bothered to ask who Alex’s fiancée was bringing as her plus-one, I wouldn’t be standing here like some tragic asshole in a romance movie, watching his ex from across the deck.

I could have left it at that. Turned around, walked away, pretended she didn’t exist.

But then she glanced up.

And froze.

And now I had two choices: acknowledge her or make it weird.

I sighed and made my way over.

“Didn’t realize you were into cruises,” I said, sliding onto the stool beside her.

She blinked, lashes fluttering like she needed a second to process the fact that I was real. Then, after a moment, she scoffed, shaking her head. “Didn’t realize you were, either. You always said they were overpriced and full of tourists.”

I preferred real experiences, nature not artistically man-made spectacles.

I smirked. “Still are. But the food’s decent.”

A pause.

Then, softer, “Hi, Josh.”

Something in my chest pulled tight.

I glanced at her drink—something fruity, probably too sweet. She always did like her cocktails to taste like dessert.

“Hey, sweetheart.”