Beckett’s POV
Vanessa is still deep in conversation with one of the crew about tonight's spa arrangements when I catch it . . . Lena's voice, carrying just enough across the deck as she says something to Elodie about the lounge tonight, eight o'clock, my gaze flitting upward to find Murphy beside them, a hopeful grin in place.
I shouldn't be listening. I know that. And yet I find myself cataloguing every word anyway, filing it away with a kind of quiet, unwanted attention I have no business giving it.
Murphy. Drinks. Eight o'clock.
Something twists uncomfortably in my chest at the thought of it, sharp enough that I have to actively force my expression back into something neutral before Vanessa notices.
'I was thinking the deep tissue,' Vanessa's saying, entirely oblivious to whatever'
