I glanced around. My fellow contestants were in animated conversation as they waited to board that magnificent three hundred foot cruiser with its dark, tinted windows, sharp angles, fresh white paint and gleaming metal railings. Three levels of cruising decadence, a luxury boat moored and ready for me to hop on for a trip of a lifetime.

​

Ten meters away a tall blond guy in shorts and singlet that did nothing to hide his great physique waved me over. His beaming smile blew my lingering nerves away. A little bit of excitement grew inside me. A welcome change from how I’d been feeling this past year. I waved back, rose from my make-shift seat, grabbed the handle of my suitcase and wheeled it towards the blond guy.

A crowd of contestants dispersed.

One lone man remained.

​

Shock hit me like a blast of icy wind. What on earth?

My heart jumped to my throat. My mouth went dry. The object of my shock―a dark-haired man in blue jeans and white shirt that moulded to his muscled chest―moved closer.

​

James. My ex-husband.

I’d recognize the bastard anywhere.

​

My world stopped. How could he be here? How dare he be here! Dare to show himself! A mixture of emotions swelled inside me. Anger. Hurt. Shock. My jaw gaped. I clenched my fists. How could I forget that day―day two of our honeymoon in Bermuda?