I tip my head forward and use the tips of my fingers to apply pressure to my trapezius muscle, holding back a groan of relief as the gentle massage eases the ache that starts at the base of my skull and sets fire to the place between my shoulder blades.

Locked in a moment of momentary relief, the dinner sounds of knives scraping plates, the gurgle of drinks being poured, and the murmurs and laughter around me, fade into the distance.

“Grace Anderson, you are aware how physically demanding the massage profession is, right?” Jillian’s voice makes my head jerk up.

“Sure.” I drop my hand from my shoulder and pick up my fork, stabbing a cube of feta cheese nestled between the crunchy leaves of my Greek salad. My eyes are on Jillian as I savor the tangy taste of the cheese. What’s she getting at?

“Good.” Jillian exchanges a quick glance with Lynn, then narrows her eyes at me. “And you do love your job, right?”

“I do.” I breathe in the aroma of spices, onions, and tuna escaping from Lynn’s pizza al tonno.

Jillian takes a sip of her soda and leans back in her chair. “In that case, I suggest you start taking care of yourself, health-wise.”

“What do you mean?” I lower the fork to my plate as my appetite deserts me.

“Honey, you haven't taken a break from work for a whole week.” She tucks a lock of red hair behind her ear. “You don't want to end up with some kind of injury.”

Somewhere in the canteen, a plate hits the natural stone tile floor. The three of us and some of the other colleagues dining with us, turn to where the sound is coming from, distracted only for a moment before conversations resume.

“Grace,” Lynn joins our conversation. “As your colleagues, we appreciate it when you go above and beyond to lighten the workload.” She picks lint from the sleeve of her powder, vintage-inspired summer dress then lifts her gaze to my face. “But as your friends, we worry about you. We wouldn’t want you to develop carpal tunnel syndrome or something worse.”

I cover Lynn’s hand with mine. “It’s sweet of you guys to look out for me. But you don’t have to worry. I’m fine.”

Jillian shakes her head. “You're not and you know it.” She reaches for my other hand. “I know you don't want to admit it, but you're working yourself to the bone because you want to forget Bryant.”

“I'm over him, believe me.” I withdraw my hands from theirs and rise. “And just to prove to you guys that I am taking care of my health, I’m hitting the sack early tonight.” I pick up my tray but before I walk away, I turn to them with a smile. “I have a surprise for you both. Drop by my cabin in about thirty minutes.” I leave before they can ask me what the surprise is.

I don’t head to my cabin immediately but find myself in front of the closed door that opens to the stairs leading to the deck, to Bryant’s suite. It’s the third time since Cabo that I’d been here, wondering if he lied and is perhaps still on the ship, if another woman has already replaced my place in his arms.

I could go and knock on his door, but I no longer have the right to do that.

“Excuse me.” One of the cleaning staff appears at my side with a bucket filled with cleaning supplies.

“Sorry.” I move away and she steps through the door.

My feet refuse to let me leave for five more minutes, and when I finally get the courage to walk away, I promise myself it’s for good. You can't force a heart to love somebody.

I’m back inside my cabin for only twenty-five minutes, preparing for bed, when a tap on my door calls for my attention.

I'm holding my breath as I go to open the door, my subconscious still daring to dream of the impossible.

By the time my fingers come into contact with the door handle, my head is swimming with dizziness. I release the air trapped inside my lungs and pull the door open.

My heart sinks when I find Jillian and Lynn standing there.

“Why do you look like that?” Jillian asks, eyebrows drawn together.

“Like what?” I open the door wider to let them enter.

“As if you were expecting someone else.” She lifts a brow. “You weren’t, were you?”

“No, of course not.” I close the door and follow them further into my room.

“What's all this?” Lynn steps to the bed.

I reach for one of the dresses lined up on the bed, tightening my fingers around it, holding on to the memories a few seconds longer. “These are designer clothes. I was wondering if you guys want to have them.”

“The stuff he bought you?” Jillian picks up a canary yellow evening gown I didn’t get the chance to wear. “They must have cost a fortune. Are you sure you want to get rid of them?”

I sink onto the bed and let go of the dress in my hands. “I no longer need them. I bought some clothes in Cabo, remember?” Just because Bryant is out of my life doesn’t mean I’m returning to my shapeless clothes.

“Yes, but not designer clothes.” Lynn’s mouth drops when she glances at a tag still on one of the dresses. “This one cost more than I earn in a month.”

“I don’t care.” My back meets the plump pillows as I lean back. “The clothes hold too many memories.” A sigh whooshes from my lips. “Do you want them or not? I don't mind if you gift them to someone else. I just want to get rid of them. I need to move on.”

“Say no more.” Jillian is already removing her clothes to try on my dresses. “Who can say no to luxury?”

“One thing though,” I hug my knees. “Please don’t wear them on the LaClaire ships? Just in case—”

“Of course, love.” Jillian drops by my side, in her bra and panties. “You don't have to worry about that.” She touches my arm. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“You know what? I think I am.” I smile at my friends. “It was great while it lasted, but I’ll not waste my time thinking about Mr. Right Now when I have Mr. Right to look forward to.”