Danielle Steel - Crossings

“In my room.”

“And where's that?”

“Next door.”

“That's cute. I saw that you moved your things.”

“And cried all night, I suppose.” They were words with a slight sting as he glanced at the ship's newspaper and buttered a croissant.

“I don't know why the hell you moved out.”

“Oh, don't you?” He sounded strangely calm, and she glared at him from where she sat.

“Is this a new trend for us, separate rooms? Or is this just because you were angry at me last night?”

“Does it matter, Hil?” He looked up from the paper and set it down. “I think things will work out better like this. You looked as though you were having a good time last night. I didn't want to spoil your fun.”

“Or your own? Are you playing tennis again today, Nick?” Her voice was all innocence at first, but he could see from the look in her eyes that there was more to come. “How's your little friend, the ambassador's wife?” She was pleased to see him bridle at this. “I assume that you've been playing more than tennis with her. A little shipboard romance perhaps?” Her voice oozed the evil spirit with which she thought, and pointed once again to her own guilt.

“That's more your style than mine.”

“I'm not so sure.”

“Then you don't know me very well. Or her. But I suppose you apply your standards to the rest of the world. Fortunately, they don't apply.”

“Oh, dear Saint Nick. Is your little friend sweet and pure?” She laughed out loud and crossed the room. “I doubt that. She looks like a whore to me.”

Nick stood up and there was menace in his eyes. “Don't speak that way about people you don't know. You're the only whore on this ship, from what I can see, and if that suits you, that's fine, but don't waste your time pointing a finger at anyone else. It doesn't apply to anyone but you, and just be damn glad that people all over this ship aren't calling you a whore.”

“They wouldn't dare.”

“At the rate you're going, one of these days they will.”

“And wouldn't you love that.” She stood watching him, baffled at what she saw in his eyes. Suddenly he didn't seem to care anymore. He wasn't angry, he wasn't sad, he was numb. And the only thing that had made him angry was what she had said about Liane.

“I'm not sure I care what people say about you anymore. I know the truth. What does it matter after that?”

“Have you forgotten that I'm your wife? What I do reflects on you.”

“Is that some kind of a threat?”

“No, it's the truth.”

“It hasn't stopped you before, and I doubt if it'll stop you now. Everyone in Boston and New York has had their eyes open about you for years. The only difference is that now I'm willing to face it too.”

“And let me do what I want?” She looked stunned.

“As long as you're reasonably discreet. For you, that ought to be something new.”

“You son of a bitch …” But as she rushed toward him, he grabbed her arm, and she was startled by the fierce grip. He was a powerful man, and he was no longer afraid to use his strength on her.

“Don't waste your time, Hil.” It was all wasted on him now. Both her anger and her charm. And as they stood there in the dining room of their suite, she began to cry.

“You hate me, don't you?”

He stood looking down at her and shook his head, surprised at how little he felt for her now. Only a few days before there had still been hope. But yesterday she had ended it for him. For good, he thought. And it was just as well for him.

“No, I don't.”

“But you don't give a damn, do you? You never did.”

“That's not true.” He sat down with a tired sigh. “I once cared very much.” His voice grew soft. “I loved you very much. But you've fought me every inch of the way for years. And I guess, finally, you win. You don't want to be my wife, but you are. So we'll both have to live with that. I'm not willing to let you out, because of our son, but I can't force you to feel something you don't, I can't even keep you out of other men's beds, even on this ship. So, Hillary, the game's up. You wrote the rules, I'll play it your way. But don't expect me to care for you as I once did. I don't. I can't. You killed that for us both. It's what you wanted, and you've won.” He stood up and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?” She looked suddenly afraid. She didn't want to be his wife with all the mature commitment that entailed, but she still needed him.

“Out.” He smiled ruefully at her as he left. “I can't go very far. At least you'll know I'll be somewhere on the ship. I'm sure you'll be busy with your friends.” He closed the door then and went back to his room. He felt better than he had in years. Half an hour later he went to find his son at the swimming pool, and they had a nice time, swimming together in the deep end for a while, and then he left him with some of his new friends and went to get dressed. He was thinking about Liane, and hoping that she was free for another tennis match. He wanted to tell her how much she had helped him the night before. But when he saw her, she was strolling happily with Armand on the promenade deck outside the Grill, their heads bent close, and she was laughing at something he had said. He didn't want to intrude, so instead he went to the gentleman's smoking room. He knew that anywhere else on the ship he might have run into his wife, so he spent the afternoon there, and eventually went back to his room. It seemed moments later when the dinner bell sounded in the hall. He put on his white tie and tails as he had each night and went back to the living room of their suite to meet his wife. She was wearing a black taffeta dress and carrying her silver fox. Even that didn't bother him anymore, it was as though overnight he had been freed from the agonies she had caused him for so long. The bite on her neck the day before had been the last straw.

“You look very nice.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes were distant and cold. “I'm surprised you came back.”

“I don't know why. We dine together every night.”

“We used to sleep together too.” He didn't want to get into that now, so close to the open door to Johnny's room. “I gather that, according to your new rules, public appearances are all right, but private ones are not.”

“That's about right.” He sounded very cool as he went to kiss John good night. The boy looked up at him with a bright smile as he nuzzled his neck.

“You smell good, Dad.”

“Thank you, sir. So do you.” The child smelled of soap and shampoo and Nick wished that he could spend a little more time with him, but Hillary was standing in the doorway, anxious to interrupt.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes.” Nick stood up and followed her out the door as Johnny went back to his games with his nurse, and in the Grande Salle à Manger, he and Hillary took their places at the table she had complained about before, but it didn't matter anymore. This was their last night.

There was an atmosphere of bittersweet joy and regret tonight, with people who had met clustered in friendly groups in the Grand Salon and couples walking along the deck. Even the music seemed sad and sweet as people danced, and Nick saw Armand and Liane, strolling peacefully on the deck. Again he wanted to say something to her, but the time didn't seem quite right.

“Are you sad to leave the ship?” Armand looked down at Liane with a gentle smile. She looked so pretty tonight, in a pale-blue organza dress with pale-blue-and-gold satin shoes and a matching bag. She was wearing aquamarines and diamonds set in gold at her ears, with a handsome necklace to match that had been her mother's, from the enormous cache of jewels bought by her father before she was born. “Have I told you tonight how lovely you look?”