Page 53 of The Admiral's Daughter

“Yeah. Are Kit and Boot around?”

“Both in the bunk, I think.”

“Cool, cool. Um, would you come with me so I can tell them about Cleo?”

Finally, she looks away from the TV. “Yeah, sure. Wow, okay. You ready for Kit’s judgement? Because we both know that’s gonna happen.”

I swallow. “Yeah, I know.”

She rolls off the couch and cocks her head for me to follow her. I take a few breaths and brace myself for Kit. I’m not stupid enough to think she’s going to be impressed with the situation, for several reasons.

We step into our bunkhouse, and I close the door. Boot is lifting dumbbells like a maniac. I mean, really! She’s just been on a ten-hour shift, for crying out loud. Kit, on the other hand, is hanging about in her bra and knickers, which usually has my eyes wandering, but for once…I don’t look. I do look, literally, because my eyeballs work, but I don’tlooklook. It feels wrong now.

Christ, am I already changing? Pfft. Doubtful, it’s more likely I’m not as much of an arsehole as I thought I was, and have respect for Cleo and our burgeoning relationship.

“Can I have a chat?” I ask loudly. Boot grunts something and nods.

Kit pulls a T-shirt over her head and settles on her bed. “You know you can.”

“Boot, put the weights down,” Cheddar scoffs. “Seriously, take a break, would ya?”

With everyone looking at me, I suddenly remember I have to make words come out of my mouth. “I’m dating Cleo,” I blurt.

Cheddar chokes on nothing. “Bloody hell, River. I thought you’d be a little less blunt than that!”

My eyes move to Kit, who has sat up and crossed one leg over the other, scrutinising me. I know that look. It’s the look Kit gets when she’s about to deliver some home truths. The look that says she’s disappointed in me. The look that makes me feel about five years old.

I brace myself for impact.

“What does that mean?” she asks.

“It means, I may have lost my marbles the other day and confronted her about the night we slept together.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she grumbles.

“Anyway, she told me it was to do with her needing to connect with her partner.” I ramble the rest of the story, letting Boot and Kit know how the conversation with Cleo went down.

Boot holds up her hand. “What happened on the night you slept with Cleo? Have I missed something?”

Scrubbing my face in frustration, I give Boot the short version of my mental breakdown regarding Cleo’sless-than-stellar review of our night together. She doesn’t say anything once I’ve finished, which I appreciate.

“Hey, back to you dating Cleo,” Kit demands. “River, what the hell?”

“Hey,” I snap back. “This is why I didn’t tell you straight away, Kit. I knew you’d be weird about it.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “You knew I’d talk some sense into you. This is a whole new level of narcissism, River.”

Ouch.

“Kit,” Cheddar says softly. “Go easy.”

“Go easy? Cheddar, she’s literally talked a woman into dating her because she had her ego bruised. Are you kidding me? River, I love you, you know that. I love you, exactly who you are, the way you are.”

“And who am I exactly, Kit?” I grit out.

“You’re River ‘Romeo’ Dawson. You’re a shit hot sailor and a womaniser.”

“And that’s all I can be, right?”