A morning lark for as long as I can remember, I wake up at dawn and beam happily the moment I find my bearings.

Life is good.

Unable to stop grinning, I lift my left hand and stare at my gorgeous engagement ring. If the size of the rock reflects the depth of Julien’s feelings, then I’m a lucky girl. He must love me, even if he hasn’t uttered those words since his disastrous declaration back in high school. Can’t blame him. In his place, I would probably be wary, too.

Besides, men are known to have trouble voicing their feelings. They express them through gifts and tokens of their commitment instead. Since Julien and I started dating, he’s taken me to the most expensive restaurants, bought me costly trinkets, and paid for this pricey cruise.

He’s asked me to be his wife.

As he said, what more proof do I need?

Turning quietly to my side, so I don’t wake him up, I survey my fiancé.

Even up close, it’s hard to spot a trace of the ills that blighted him in high school. Today, Julien is a magnificent man with a gracefully muscled body you’d expect in a pro swimmer. As for his face, apart from a few faint scars on his cheeks, it’s spotless.

Who knew the ugly duckling of Lycée Molière would attain this level of hotness in his mid-twenties?

The only thing he had going for him in those days was his height. And even that… I remember how he suddenly lengthened in a violent growth spurt that neither he nor his mom, who still bought his clothes, were prepared for. Julien’s response was to stoop. He never seemed to know what to do with his long limbs—with his whole body. Come to think of it, being tall only made things worse for him.

In addition to his teenage clumsiness, he was saddled with metal braces.

But the thing that made him truly stand out—not in a good way—was his acne. God, it was awful. Oversized red zits all over his face, neck, and shoulders. He was painful to look at.

“Hey, Julien, do you ever wash?” Lise asked him once.

He gave her a wounded look and turned away. Lise, Tanya, and Irene burst out laughing. I did, too, proud to be part of the school’s in-crowd, “the Cats.” I should’ve known better than to delude myself into thinking those girls liked me and were my friends. But I was stupid. And I did something truly mean to Julien in my eagerness to be part of Lise’s gang.

A fat lot of good it did me in the end.

As quietly as I can so I don’t wake up Julien, I slip out of bed, wrap a bathrobe around me, and head out of the cabin. The hallway is empty. Treading softly, I climb up to the deck where Julien proposed yesterday. The boards are darker and wetter than usual, but I’ve never come up so early just after the deck was hosed down.

The clinking of tableware from the buffet area draws my attention to the restaurant staff, who are preparing the tables for early risers like myself. I smile to them. They smile back. I turn away and lean on the railing.

My timing is impeccable.

The sun is cresting halfway on the horizon, bejeweling the sea and the sky—the whole world—with magic. The weather is as balmy as you’d expect for mid-September in the southern Mediterranean. I smell salt and watch a flock of remarkably silent gulls. A sense of wonder and awe fills me at the splendor of the sunrise unfolding in front of my eyes. It makes me feel small—but also a part of something big and beautiful. My heart swells with the honor of living on planet Earth with its cycles of day and night, summer and winter, life and death.

And the gift of love she’s given to its babies.

As I return to our cabin and crawl back between the sheets, I wonder if Julien remembers Lise’s spiteful put-down or any of the other taunts the Cats and I subjected him to. One day, when we’re older and when that drama-filled final school year is truly water under the bridge, I’ll ask him.

Or maybe not.

Because if I do and if we start talking about that year, there’s no way he won’t mention my eighteenth birthday party. The one I invited him to… and made him the laughing stock of the entire school.

I’ve been working on erasing that episode from my memory ever since. Good thing Julien is mature enough to see it for what it was—an ill-advised childish prank. The one time we came close to broaching the topic, he smiled and said he’d gotten over it by the time he’d recovered from his pneumonia.

Thank God.

If someone had done to me what the Cats and I did to Julien, I would’ve needed therapy to get over it. What went down at my birthday party was awful for Julien, but the part I’m least proud of took place a couple of weeks earlier.

“I think Julien has the hots for me,” I announced as Lise, Tanya, Irene, and I perused Tanya’s copy of Elle. “I think he’s going to make a move any day now.”

Beats me why I said those things. The only explanation I can give is that Julien’s and my mutual staring was becoming too obvious and I feared the Cats would suspect me of returning Julien’s feelings.

The ignominy! The mortification!

I couldn’t allow that.

“You can’t be serious.” Lise looked up from the fashion pages she was studying. “You guys barely talk to each other.”

I smoothed my hair back. “That was true last year. But this year, we’ve done quite a bit of talking.”

Lise arched an eyebrow.

“In September,” I said, “he and I were on the same debate team. In October, Madame Fonteneau put us on the same chemistry project. And last month, we spent three afternoons together preparing a World War 2 presentation for Monsieur Narboni.”

Lise nodded. “I see.”

“Is he so stupid he doesn’t see how far out of his league you are?” Tanya said.

I shrugged.

Lise shut the magazine. “It makes me so angry.”

I turned to her. “What exactly?”

“That boys like him dare to fancy girls like us.” She sighed. “It’s like they believe they deserve us, you know?”

“Er…” I wasn’t sure I did.

“I do!” Irene cried out, giddy in her obsequiousness. “I know exactly what you mean!”

“Will you please explain it to Noemi here?” Lise pointed to me, an angelical smile on her face.

“When boys like Julien dare to pursue one of us,” Irene said, aping Lise’s smile, “it lowers us to their level. It cheapens us.”

“Let’s teach him a lesson,” Lise said.

Tanya clapped her hands and Irene squealed with delight.

I tried to look appropriately thrilled. “What do you have in mind?”

Lise laid out her idea.

It was surprisingly well thought out and uniquely cruel.

“Oh, come on.” She nudged me with her elbow, seeing my hesitation. “It’ll be fun. And it’ll send the right message to all other losers who might be thinking of trying something like that with one of us.”

Tanya raised her hand. “I’m in!”

“Let’s do it!” Irene said.

The three of them trained their eyes on me.

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

In the middle of my recollections, Julien opens his eyes and stretches before giving me a dazzling smile. “Did you sleep well, sweetie?”

If I were wearing underwear, it would’ve melted at the seams.

“Better than ever,” I say. “You?”

He nods. “I ordered us some breakfast. It should be here any minute.”

“Ooh, you don’t do anything by halves, do you?”

He slips a hand between my legs and cups me. “Actually, that was a mistake. I thought we’d be famished when we woke up, but now I’m hungrier for you than for food.”

There’s a knock on the door, and I scoot away from him.

Julien pulls on his boxers and heads for the door.

I watch his broad well-muscled back. At this distance, you can’t see the tiny spots and scars left by the tattoo he had removed from his upper back. One day, I’ll ask him when he removed it and how—laser, most likely—and if having it burned off his skin hurt as much as having it needled in.

One day, when I’m ready.

But right now, we’re about to feast on a delicious breakfast of eggs, ham, smoked salmon, buttered toasts, croissants, orange juice, and three kinds of jam. Mmm. As I pick up the coffee pot to fill our cups, I notice a small note behind it.

Mademoiselle Dray and Monsieur Boitel,

May I have the honor of your company at my table tonight?

Please RSVP.

I lift my eyes from the note. “It’s signed by the ship’s captain!”

Julien grins.

“I always thought his table was reserved for his personal friends and VIPs,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Guess it wasn’t.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Is this your doing?”

“I plead innocent!” He claps his hand to his chest before bunching his eyebrows. “Come to think of it, maybe, indirectly.”

“Because you booked one of the most expensive suites?”

“Could be.” He butters his croissant. “Or because we treated the guests to a heartwarming show last night.”

“I should’ve said no,” I say, chuckling. “Just for kicks.”

My grin fades when I see the expression in his eyes. Stung, angry—like a wounded beast.

Stupid cow!

I, of all people, should know it’s no joking matter for Julien, not after that horrible birthday party. So what that he’d told me he was over the whole thing? That doesn’t mean it’s an open invitation to rub salt in his wound.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I say, touching his hand. “I shouldn’t joke about that.”

He plasters a smile on his face. “Nonsense. Of course, you can joke about that and anything else you want to joke about. It’s my problem if I can’t handle it.”

We spend most of the day off the boat, enjoying a guided tour of Rome.

In the evening, we dress up—Julien dons a chic suit and me, an evening gown—and join today’s crop of the lucky guests gathered for pre-dinner cocktails in the lounge. We’re quite a mismatched group of different ages and nationalities, but it only takes a complimentary cocktail or two for the conversation to flow. It never halts once we join the captain at his table, and he treats us to a couple of colorful tales to match the superior quality of the wine poured by white-gloved servers.

It turns out that one of our tablemates used to play handball in college. One of the women was a decent tennis player, and—lo and behold—our captain played water polo in his youth. Quickly, Julien becomes the center of attention with everyone curious to know what it’s like to be an athlete on the national team, how he prepares for the Olympic Games, and what exotic places he gets to travel to.

Usually discreet, my fiancé regales the company with hilarious stories and witty quips, all while stroking my thigh under the table.

“You’re so lucky to have snagged a man like that,” a retired career woman on my right whispers in my ear.

“I know,” I mouth to her, unable to wipe the smug grin off my face.

After dessert, everyone poses for a group photo.

“You are all invited to a tour of the bridge tomorrow,” the captain says before wishing us good night.

“I’m so looking forward to that,” Julien says to me as we stroll to our cabin. “Can’t think of a better way to finish this amazing cruise.”

I sigh. “I wish it were longer.”

“What?” he asks in feigned surprise. “You aren’t eager to go back to work?”

I roll my eyes. “Unlike some people present, my job consists of fattening my ass and wearing down my brain so I can help the rich partners of my law firm get even richer.”

The fake surprise in Julien’s eyes turns real, and I regret my words immediately.

What’s wrong with me today?

The only thing Julien had heard about my job until now was how much I loved it. And I do. How can I not? Being an associate in a big law firm is a dream come true. The job is demanding, but I know if I work hard enough, network harder and lick my boss’s bespoke Italian shoes harder still, one day I’ll be promoted to partner.

Yay, right?

Exhaling a heavy breath, I wave my hand. “I didn’t mean what I just said. Decidedly, my tongue is full of poison.”

“Your tongue is full of honey,” he says, flashing me one of his devastatingly sexy smiles.

Only this time, it misses its mark, and my panties stay firmly sewn together.

Whether it’s because my distress served as a shield against his charm or Julien’s eyes didn’t truly partake in his smile remains to be seen.