Brad and Meg are meeting on a cruise after months of online friendship. They each have a major secret they must reveal. Will the secrets stop a true romance?
Brad
Tightening his seat belt, Brad flips open his Laptop, looks at Meg Foster's icon, and is again pleased with what he sees. Her short-cropped brown hair is a style that can take a stiff breeze this weekend when they finally meet on the deck of a cruise ship. Brad likes her smiling deep-set brown eyes.
"Can I get you anything, Mr. Collingwood?" Flight attendant Amy Wallace smiles down at him.
Glancing up from the laptop, he notices the smile hasn't reached her eyes. It's the first time he sees the look in her eyes in all the times she has served on his private jet.
Seeing a hint of sadness in her eyes, he mentally notes to have someone check on her personnel file to see if anything is wrong.
"No, thanks, Amy. I'm good."
Reopening the laptop, he reads the short intro description.
'Meg Foster, teacher, writer, likes working with kids and teens.'
That's it, short and to the point. There are no long, drawn-out effusive comments about her background and highlights of her accomplishments. Brad likes that. He knows her background. One of his private detectives checked her out. In his position, he couldn't take chances believing everything he reads on the Internet.
Yes, they met online. No! Brad did not join one of those Internet dating sites. They met on a website called 'Thinking About’, where people write about things that interest them. Meg commented on his article about hurting after the death of his wife. She understood the grieving process. She responded, citing the pain she felt after her divorce, and a friendship developed reading and commenting on each other's posts.
After six months of exchanging thoughts on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, the friendship was obviously moving towards romance. They decided to meet on a four-day cruise to the Bahamas and agreed they would have their own accommodations.
As his private plane increases altitude, Brad closes the Laptop, relaxes onto the plush recliner, and reviews their relationship so far.
Brad sensed they were both looking for someone special. He is sure Meg is that someone special. He worries now that when she learns he has deceived her, even though it was not a bad deception, protecting his real identity, he isn't sure she will understand.
"Sir, the pilot asked me to let you know we will be landing in Ft Lauderdale in about 15 minutes. Are you sure I can't get you anything?"
Brad looks up at the sad eyes. Wondering what has made her sad, he asks her to take a few minutes to sit and relax.
Tears brimming, she hesitates. "Sir, I need to prepare the Galley for landing."
I understand." Brad slips a silver business card case from his briefcase, retrieves one of his cards, and hands it to her. "If you ever have a problem working for me or with any of the people on my jet fleet, please, feel free to call my private number."
For a moment, a smile flickers in her eyes."Thank you, Sir. It's been a pleasure working for you."
When she is in the Galley, Brad goes to his private washroom, speed dials his director of human resources, and within minutes he knows the flight attendant works part-time and her husband has recently lost his job; they have two sons, one is autistic.
He has a copy of her file emailed to his headquarters. He then sends a text to the personnel director telling him to retrieve the file and see if there is a position available in the company for her husband.
Returning to his seat and strapping the seat belt, Brad smiles at Meg's image on the Laptop, then clicks one of the detective's photos of her on his cell phone. She won't be hard to find at the boarding site. He wants to observe her checking in and then meet her on the Starboard side of the ship as planned. He doubts she will recognize him at check-in without the beard and mustache on his Internet Icon.
Meg
Meg steers her Volvo into the cruise line handicapped designated parking slot, flips open the trunk, gets out carefully, and lifts her suitcase, letting it fall to the ground. Glad to have only one roller bag and a tote for the walk from parking to the port check-in, she glances at other passengers in line, hoping to catch sight of Brad. There is no one with a copper brown short beard and mustache. Not seeing anyone who looks like him, she restarts her mental tug of war about meeting on a cruise ship.
Yes, they have what seems to be a possible relationship, but what does she know about him? Concern flares momentarily. Was she foolish to spend four days with someone she doesn’t know other than an online persona? Her friends urged her, assuring her she will be safe on a cruise ship, providing she uses normal precautions.
Inside she grasps her boarding documents and passport from her tote bag, checks her cell for any messages, and again glances around to see if Brad is checking in. There are men with facial hair but none that look like the man on Brad's icon photo.
Check-in moves quickly. Gaining access to the ship with her handicap is hard. Multiple Sclerosis sometimes slows her down, but she hasn't reached the wheelchair stage yet. Her Doctor says if she continues to exercise, watch what she eats, and take her medicine, she will most likely stave off the wheelchair for a long time, perhaps never need one.
Onboard the ship, a crew member guides her to her cabin. Small and easy to get around in is how Meg thinks about it. Much smaller than the suite she and Ted shared on their honeymoon. It is fine for four days, and how much time does one spend in their cabin with so much to do onboard? Which reminds her, she is to meet Brad starboard as the ship sails. Enough time to freshen up, do a relaxing meditation, and hope for the best.
Somewhat relaxed after the meditation and a quick change into one of the casual outfits she brought, Meg makes her way to the upper deck and strolls to the Starboard side. Accepting a glass of punch from one of the wandering servers, she closes her eyes, breathes in the salty air, feels the slight breeze, and relaxes even more.
"Hello, Meg." She is startled by the voice close to her. Opening her eyes, she looks eye to eye at a handsomely attractive clean-shaven man.
"I'm sorry?" Shaking her head, she asks, "Do I know you?"
"I'm Brad!" His smile zooms right to her heart.
Omigod, she thinks, knowing she looks stunned. At a loss for words, never dreaming Brad could be this much more attractive than his Internet icon. She blinks, feeling like an idiot for staring.
"I didn't mean to surprise you like that. I'm sorry." He takes the cocktail glass from her shaking hand.
So much for relaxing; she is as nervous as an understudy stepping into a starring role. "I don't usually scare like that," she finally mutters. "I was lost in thought."
"About me, I hope." He takes a fresh glass from a passing server, hands it to her, and motions them to walk to the portside.
"Not sure what I was thinking about. I was enjoying the sea air."
" You've cruised before. I think you mentioned it in one of our online chats."
"Yes." No need to elaborate. She can’t remember if she had mentioned the one with Ted or had told him she was divorced. All she can think of at the moment is how attractive he is.
Oh dear, she thinks, as her MS lack of self-confidence descends, he is way too good looking for someone wanting to have a relationship with me. Why did he deceive her with a deceptive photo on the Internet?
Distracting her from her dismal thoughts, Brad suggests they meet in the Safari Lounge after the lifeboat drill, which is about to take place. They separate and go to their respective cabins to prepare for the routine.
Meg prepares for the disappointment she knows is about to come. He saw her photo, and he knew she wasn't a modelesque beauty. Why would he want to meet her with the idea of creating a relationship for real? He was more than she expected. What was he expecting from her?
Brad
Leaning on the balcony rail of his suite, Brad stares at the fading Florida shoreline. He is perplexed. He saw what looked like disappointment in Meg's eyes and wonders what he may have done to cause it.
Their conversation on deck, before they parted to prepare for the lifeboat drill, was brief. What could he have said to make her eyes almost darken? Shaking off the worry, he takes a quick shower, dresses casually in blue linen slacks with a blue and white open-collar pull-on shirt.
Leaving his suite to meet Meg for cocktails before the first night at sea dinner, he is stopped in the passageway.
"Good evening Mr. Collingwood. Please let me know if I can do anything. I hope you enjoy the cruise."
"Thank you," Brad responds to the suite steward, hoping no one else calls him by his real name, at least not until he can explain to Meg who he is.
Arriving early, he sits at a table for two with a view of the water, indicating to the server he is waiting for someone. Hoping Meg wasn't so disappointed in him that she doesn't show up, he orders a Scotch on the Rocks then quickly stands when he sees her coming toward the table. He likes the way she looks. The black and white print sundress is casual with understated elegance. Her jewelry is simple, complementing the style. Brad smiles as she approaches. He is relieved that she came, wishing she had more than an enigmatic smile as he pulls out her chair.
"You look very nice." He stares at her, thinking he could have said something better. Good lord, I'm acting like a thirteen-year-old with his first crush. "What would you like to drink?"
"Thank you. White wine." Her smile is more genuine. At least that's something; she isn't looking quite so disappointed.
He orders a carafe of Pouilly-Fuiss Chardonnay and two glasses canceling his Scotch order. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he asks her how she likes her cabin, then about the weather. There are short, awkward pauses as they each look for something else to say.
"I liked your essay about finding your life's purpose." Brad wants to tell her how much more he likes about her. Suddenly he is not the confident business owner and CEO used to wheeling and dealing. He is like a shy teen wanting not to say the wrong thing and bring back the disappointment in Meg's eyes.
"Thank you. Your comment on the article was thoughtful and very kind."
The call to dinner chimes rescues them from the uncomfortable setting.
Inside the dining room, a host shows them to the table Brad has reserved. As he seats Meg, he looks at Brad. "Sir, the Captain requests you and the lady join him at his table tomorrow after his welcoming party."
"Please let the Captain know that I have other plans and thank him for the invitation."
"The Captain's table?” Meg asks as the host presents her with a menu.
"They must have drawn my name out of a hat." Brad attempts humor. He reads the wine list silently, hoping he can make the next few hours more relaxed. No, more than relaxed, he wants them to be memorable or at least make a good connection of some kind.
"Have you cruised often?" Meg asks as the server leaves to place their orders.
"Yes," he responds, carefully choosing what to add without revealing the luxury cruise ship he has a financial interest in. "I've been on several. After my wife became ill, she believed the sea air was healthier than Chicago's."
"I am sorry about your loss, Brad. I know from some of the things you've written on ‘Thinking About’ that you loved her very much."
"We had a good marriage, and I loved her. It has taken me a couple of years to feel like I want to be with someone again." Brad knows who that someone is. He isn't sure how to let her know, and he doesn't want to move too fast and scare her away. He determines that he will know if he can persuade her to think about him as more than a friend before the end of the cruise. When Brad decides he is going to do something, he rarely fails. He isn't quite as sure this time.
Meg
Waking in her cabin, her arms locked behind her head, Meg recalls the evening and how it turned out more pleasant than she expected. Yesterday, she was sure someone as handsome as Brad would never be interested in her. Not because he was far more attractive than his bearded icon or unassuming elegance and disarming charm, but the admiring attention he received from the crew.
She sleepily remembers becoming relaxed at dinner as Brad tells her about growing up in Chicago, working in his father's hardware store, his good childhood memories, many of them amusing. She stretches in bed, closes her eyes, and remembers the evening.
After dinner, they enjoyed the Las Vegas-style show in the main lounge. During the evening, she noticed Brad watching her more than the activities around them. Even in the Casino, he stood next to her as she tried her luck at the slot machines. While luck wasn't with her in the Casino, she now feels luck just might be with her and a potential relationship with Brad.
Slipping out of bed, she does a brief meditation and selects an off-the-shoulder sea green blouse to wear over beige shorts for spending the day with Brad wandering Nassau. She looks forward to miles of pristine beaches and delightful shops. Taking a few minutes for yoga poses, she hurries to the shower, anxious to meet Brad for breakfast.
There is a note at her place setting in the dining room. Reading it, she is disappointed.
Meg,
I'm going to be tied up with some business calls for a while. Not sure how long, but please go on the morning tour, and I'll meet you somewhere along the way as soon as I'm finished. Hopefully, it will be sooner than later.
Hoping it will be sooner than later, she goes to the Buffet line, noticing some admiring glances from the dining room crew and some men in line. It's a good feeling; it’s a very nice feeling. She hopes Brad will have the same look when she sees him later.
Brad
Before leaving for the cruise to meet Meg, Brad gave direct instructions to all executive officers that he would be out of touch unless there is an emergency. Now, he is on one conference call after another. One of his companies hit a snag in the acquisition of a smaller company. Brad knows merging with the smaller company will keep them from going bankrupt and will add to his industries.
"No! Damn it!" Brad tries to keep his voice even-tempered. "I am not flying home before Tuesday. You can handle it."
Ron, his acquisition director, doesn't think he can. Brad shrugs his shoulders, feeling the onslaught of defeat. He wants to save the smaller company, but unless he can get their product manufactured less expensively, the company will go under.
"Ron!" Brad is not giving up. "Talk to the union one more time. If nothing else, stall them until I get back." He looks at his watch. The morning is gone, Meg will probably have had lunch, and with the afternoon free, he isn't sure he can catch up with her. Her cell phone wasn't working the last time he tried calling her."Okay, Ron. I am counting on you. I know this is your first time bargaining with a union, but I know you can do it. Just believe you can. Tell them I had a family emergency or anything and set up a meeting for Wednesday."
Finally finishing the call, Brad grabs his camera, leaves the suite, heading for the gangway. Unfortunately, he doesn't get far when the ship's Cruise Director stops him.
"Mr. Collingwood, I hope you are enjoying your cruise.
Nodding, Brad smiles, trying to pass him. Blocking his way, the Cruise Director asks for a few moments of his time.
"Sir, we were wondering if you would be willing to give an informal talk later this afternoon or tomorrow morning about Entrepreneurship?"
"Sorry, I'm not prepared to give a talk. This is one of my few days not to think about business." Brad again starts for the gangway.
"Mr. Collingwood, Sir, we would be happy to comp your cruise. There are several people here who have recognized you."
"I don't mean to be rude. I'm on vacation. I would like to see a little bit of Nassau before we have to return to the ship. If you'll excuse me." Brad hurries to the gangway, leaving the Cruise Director unhappily staring at his back.
Onshore, he is unsure if he should head for the beach, the Atlantis Resort Casino, or perhaps the Marketplace. Passing through Festival Place with its rows of counters offering maps, tourist guides, and even a small shopping mall, Brad skims through it looking for Meg.
Heading towards Bay Street and the straw market, Brad is stopped by a group of what he assumes are passengers from the ship. One of the men asks him if he will be giving the entrepreneurship talk later. "We want to be sure to be back on board when you do."
"Sorry," Brad responds, moving around the foursome. "I've got the rest of the cruise time pretty well blocked off." He hands them a few business cards. "You can contact me at any of those numbers or email addresses, and I'll have someone see about arranging a talk onshore sometime in the future."
Before leaving the Market, an attractive young woman wearing a red wide-brimmed hat asks how the hat looks on her. The look she gives him, head tilted, looking up at him with slightly lowered eyelids, is flirtatious. He smiles, tells her it looks lovely, and hurries away, trying to remember some of the tourist sights where Meg might be.
He hurries to The Government House, expecting to see the Changing of the Guard, one of the tourist attractions that Meg might be observing. He's too late. Glancing at his watch, he realizes it is even later than he'd thought.
Finally, deciding that finding her is not about to happen, he stops in a small cafe for a late lunch before returning to the ship, hoping Meg will return early and they can have some relatively quiet time before the onslaught of returning passengers.
Meg
Dressing for the Captain's Welcome Cocktail party, Meg throws one of her shoes against the wall. "Forget him," she commands herself. How could he? What kind of fool did he take her for, acting as if he is interested in her? She knew from the moment she met him on deck he was disappointed in her. Why didn't I follow my instincts, she wonders, and let the relationship be strictly on the Internet. "Dammit!" Tears of frustration and disappointment begin to form. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!"
Slumping hard on the side of the bed, she thinks about earlier in the day. She was disappointed that Brad's business calls kept him from being with her. She thought about going back to the ship for lunch but was persuaded by two couples on the tour to join them. Afterward, she went with them to the casino but thoughts of seeing Brad encouraged her to go back to the ship. Maybe, if he was finished with his business calls, they could have some time together before the party. Stupid thought that was.
Standing, she retrieves the sandals, slips them on, looks in the mirror, fixes the makeup the tears ravaged and decides to skip the party. They are always dull anyway, watered-down punch, pasted on smiles of the Captain and crew who have to go through this ritual time after time.
On deck, she looks at Nassau fading as the ship maneuvers back onto the open water for a fun day in Freeport. Meg wipes an unwanted tear, becoming furious at herself for letting the disappointment of seeing Brad on shore with another woman bother her. She saw him in the Mall at Festival Place. She was about to join him when she noticed an attractive woman looking up at him. It was obvious they were together. She vows to ignore him the rest of the cruise as she heads to the promenade deck. Only moments after leaning against the rail and relaxing to the waves’ soothing sounds, he is there.
"Meg!” I've been looking for you." Brad is behind her. "I thought you would be at the party. Are you okay?"
Quickly brushing away more tears, she breathes deeply, shakes her head, continuing to look over the rail. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" He gently grasps her shoulder, turning her to face him. Tilting her head to look up at him, he brushes a tear she missed. "You've been crying. Has something happened?" He starts pulling her into his arms, but she stiffens.
"No. It's the wind."
"I don't think so." Brad suddenly pulls her to him. "There's hardly a breeze, let alone wind. You are upset about something. I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but if I can help." He loosens his hold on her and again tilts her face up to his. "Meg, I care about you."
She pushes him away, turning back to the rail. "I'm sure you care about me. We're Internet friends, and I think we became good friends. I'm okay. I am." Pulling back her shoulders, she adds, "You probably should get back to your friend at the party. I really am fine."
Brad is puzzled. "My friend at the party? I don't have a friend at the party. I've been looking for you."
Meg is thinking; he’s so good at pretense. She turns to face him. "I saw you with her at the Mall in Festival Place."
"I was looking for you at the Mall. I wasn't with a woman."
"I saw you with her. She was wearing a red straw hat and looking up at you with what seemed to be more than a friendly look."
Brad begins to chuckle; the hint of jealousy touches him. "She was asking me what I thought of the hat. I never saw her before or since. I left right after that, went to all the major tourist spots looking for you." His grin and the fact he wasn't with the woman brought a complete change in Meg's face. "Can I possibly hope you are a bit jealous? That maybe there is a chance for us to have more than an Internet friendship?"
Smiling at him, she is suddenly embarrassed by the twinge of jealousy. "I feel like an idiot."
"Don't; I like it." Taking her hand, he leads her to a small lounge that is relatively empty since most of the passengers are at the party. He guides her to a table away from the combo playing a medley of show tunes. “Would you like wine or a mixed drink before dinner?"
"Wine, please, and I still feel like an idiot." Brad winks at her as he gives their order to the server.
A feeling of warmth and joy begin to replace the earlier frustration and disappointment until Brad asks her to tell him more about herself. She wonders if this is the right time to tell him about her MS. She just needs to find the right words and how much to tell him, wishing she had told him earlier in the friendship online.
Brad
Gripping the rail on the balcony outside his suite, Brad is furious. Chastising himself for not being more careful with Meg, he shakes his head, wishing he could do it over. The evening was special, at least the first part of it.
Replaying it in his mind, he remembers how happy he was sitting in the lounge with her, the music playing softly in the background. Meg was looking lovely in the candlelight wearing a slimming off-the-shoulder black cocktail dress. She was beginning to relax and talk a bit more about herself. At times, when he thought she would open up more, she would get a faraway look in her eyes and change the subject. Brad guessed why.
Dinner was festive. It always is after the Captain's Welcome Party. Brad enjoyed watching Meg as the servers engaged the passengers in singing. He knew he was falling in love with her. He knew he was falling in love with her before they met on deck. Being with her clinched it. He was going to tell her how he felt that night. Instead, he messed up and threw away any chance of having her even speak to him again.
Going back into the suite, he picks up the Scotch on the rocks his room steward left for him, takes a sip, sits on the side of the bed, and wonders if there is any way he can undo his stupidity. He tries to remember each detail.
At dinner, he encouraged Meg to talk about her plans for the future. She impressed him with her determination to create a writer's workshop for inner-city teens. "I'm learning how to write a grant to get financial help." Her eyes were shining as she told him how she believed writing was a tool for young people to learn about themselves. "Through writing, they can express their feelings. They can create characters to speak for them."
He wants to tell her he can give her some help with the grant. He knows it is soon time to tell her who he is and how he can help her financially.
After dinner, they skip going to the show. He wants to be where they can talk without a lot of noise. The lounge they had been to earlier was again fairly empty, with a few people sitting at the bar. They both order coffee. After it is served, Brad takes a deep breath. "Meg, there's something I need to tell you." He watches her look at him quizzically.
She reaches across the table, putting her hand on top of his. "Me too. I have something serious I need to tell you."
He thinks she has struggled most of the evening, avoiding telling him what he already knows.
"If it's about your MS, I know about it." He thinks it will make it easier if he tells her he knows. It doesn't. It most certainly does not.
"How do you know I have Multiple Sclerosis?"
This is not the way it is supposed to go. He can tell by the look in her eyes she is not happy.
"Well, before coming to meet you here on the cruise, I checked you out."
"Google knows about my MS?"
Brad pauses a moment, wanting to tread lightly, he can't mess it up, not now when he knows how much he cares about her.
"Meg, I had one of my private detectives check you out."
The stunned, then angry look on her face tells him immediately he screwed up.
"You had a detective check me out?" Some of the people sitting at the bar turn and stare at them.
"Meg, please, let me explain."
Quickly standing, shaking her head, she grabs her evening clutch bag, dashes to the door as incoming people move out of her way.
Brad scoots around them, grabs her arm. She shrugs off his hand, steps back as he turns her to look at him.
"I thought after six months of communicating, and you knew enough about me. What I don't understand is why you had a detective check me out."
"I'm not who I said I was." Brad sees the people near the doorway staring at them. He puts his arm around her waist and guides her to the exit.
They walk quietly to the main area towards the elevators. Meg is ramrod stiff as she pushes his arm away. As the elevator door opens, she turns to him. "I don't care who you are. I don't want to see you again."
Wanting to go after her, he lets the doors slide shut, knowing from his business experience negotiating, it is best to wait until the opponent is calm and ready to listen to reason.
In his stateroom suite, remembering what happened, he wonders if he did the right thing. Maybe he should have insisted she listens to his explanation. Swallowing the last of his drink, he determines he will see her at breakfast and explain everything. The only thing left to do is to find the right words to tell her who he is and hopes she can understand.
Meg
After an almost sleepless night, Meg manages to avoid Brad. She orders breakfast in her cabin, ignoring his phone calls and tapping on her door, rips up a note the cabin steward handed her without reading it. After showering, she pulls on a pair of white shorts, tops it with a lavender t-shirt, grabs her camera, tote, a Freeport travel brochure, and mingles with a group leaving the ship.
The sounds of the island surround her. She follows the group as they climb aboard a bus. Studying the brochure, she looks up when the bus stops and the people exit. She recognizes Port Lucaya Marketplace that is in the brochure. Wandering among the stalls of souvenirs, clothes, trinkets, and hand-carved memorabilia, she buys large sunglasses, a straw hat, sandals, and sunscreen.
Sitting on the patio of Cafe Breeze, she orders a Conch salad and a local Kalik beer. She watches tourists mingling with locals, props her feet on an empty chair, leans her head back on the chair, and closes her eyes. Lulled by the ocean breeze, the Bahamian music playing in the cafe, enjoying a comfortable feeling after the meal and beer, she falls asleep.
Brad
Failing to connect with Meg, Brad spends the morning in his cabin on conference calls with Ron, the owner of the company he wants to acquire, and Union members. He offers the owner a prominent position on his staff, agrees to keep the employees, and compromises with the Union to raise salaries and add a few benefits. It is all done, except to sign and seal the deal, which he would do on Wednesday.
After a quick shower, he decides to head into town. Remembering the sunburn he got when he and Amy were in Freeport, he slathers on sunscreen, slips on his Ray-Ban sunglasses, sticks his ID and a credit card in his short's pocket, leaves the ship, and gets into a waiting taxi, hoping to find Meg at Port Lucaya.
////////////////////////
Meg wakes from her nap at the cafe, shakes her head, acclimates where she is, and suddenly realizes someone is sitting next to her. Blinking rapidly, she takes off the sunglasses and stares at Brad. Dropping her feet to the floor, she stands abruptly, steadies herself on the table, and begins to walk away.
Brad takes her hand, pulls himself up to stand next to her, and says. "Meg, give me 5 minutes, please. After that, I promise not to bother you and avoid you the rest of the cruise."
"You can avoid me now." Meg's eyes brim with frustrating unwanted tears. "Do you have any idea what it is like to be deceived by someone you trusted?" Her words nearly sputter as the lump in her throat grows.
"Yes, I do. That's the reason I didn't tell you who I really am. Twice I trusted someone I dated, and both times they were each pretending to care about me when all they wanted was my money and position as my wife."
"Who are you?"
"I'll get a taxi. We can go back to the ship, and I'll tell you everything.."
Reluctantly but curious, she agrees.
Brad and Meg
With most of the passengers still onshore, the ship is relatively empty except for working crew members. "Inside or outside?" Brad nods towards the port side.
"I think I've had enough sun and the balmy breeze for the day."
Only two people are in the lounge sitting at the bar as Brad and Meg choose a table on the far side of the room.
"What can I get you, folks?" The bartender calls to them.
"Wine?" Brad asks.
"I think I'd like to try one of those Yellow Birds I've heard are popular on cruises."
"Two Bacardi Yellow Birds, please."
"What do you think of Freeport, Meg?"
"I didn't see very much of it. Are you stalling?"
"I guess, a little. I'm not sure where to start."
"How about your name? Who are you?" Meg asks as the bartender places the drinks on the table.
"I thought you two knew each other," he says. "This is Brad Collingwood of Collingwood Industries."
"Thank you." Brad quips sternly.
The bartender backs away. "Sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to offend you."
"Brad Collingwood?" Meg squints at him. "I know the name but can't place it."
"After those two bad social experiences, I had one of my tech guys create an identity for me that I use on Internet social media. It allows me to communicate without people responding to what I am rather than who I am." He raises the glass in a toasting gesture.
Meg acknowledges it, then asks." "Who and what are you?"
"I'm Brad Collingwood, not Brad Adams. I am a founder, owner, and CEO of Collingwood Industries. I did grow up in Chicago and worked in my Dad's hardware store. All that is true. My Dad and Uncle bought a small industrial company in Joliet. After college, I worked there, learned the business, bought it from them, and with luck, the business grew enough that I was able to build it into an International company by buying small, struggling industries." He finishes the Yellow Bird, sees her glass is empty, and orders two more.
People are coming into the lounge with happy smiles after what was most likely a fun day in Freeport. Brad goes to the bar, takes the two drinks, and suggests finding a quieter place to talk.
They climb the steps to an upper level on the promenade deck where there are lounge chairs and a few small tables and chairs. Brad pulls out a chair for her where she can see Freeport, knowing the view will soon fade as the ship pulls away from the dock.
"I wish I could have taken you on a tour of the island. It has some lovely places to visit."
"Have you been here often?"
"Only once with Amy shortly before she passed away. We talked about buying a getaway beach house." He sighs. "It gave her some hope, even though we both knew there wasn't any."
Meg takes his hand into hers, bites at her lower lip, feeling sad for his loss.
"Meg, I am sorry for deceiving you. I wish I hadn't felt I needed to. After I got to know you through our communication online, it was too late to change things. I mean, I didn't know how to tell you I wasn't Brad Adams. That's why I suggested this cruise. I thought it would be easier to tell you face to face." He pauses, watching her reaction. "And, truth to tell, I thought to do it on a cruise was a good idea. You couldn't run away."
The ship begins its slow movement away from the dock. Meg stands and walks to the rai. Brad can't see her reaction to his confession and is unsure if he should join her or stay at the table. Finally, he decides to stand next to her. She doesn’t flinch when he puts his arm around her waist.
After a long silence, he whispers. "Meg, I'm sorry."
"It's okay, I understand. I had my own secret I should have revealed before now." She turns to him, smiling, the light shining in her eyes.
"Since learning about your MS, I've done a lot of research. There are great medical gains and medical hope for a cure or for halting the progression." He wraps his arms around her.
"Brad Collingwood!” She looks up at him. “I knew that name rang a bell. You saved my father from bankruptcy about 15 years ago."
"What?"
"I guess your detective didn't tell you my birth name was Blavatsky. My father was Jerome Blavatsky."
Brad's look of surprise makes her smile. "Yes, that Blavatsky of Small World Industries." She puts her arms around his neck. "You bought his company, gave him a nice retirement pay with benefits, and kept him from declaring bankruptcy."
Brad stares at her in disbelief. "You are Jer Blavatsky's daughter? How did my detective miss that?'
"My mother and father divorced when I was five. She married my step-father, Steve Foster when I was ten. As a career military officer, adopting me made sense so I could be his dependent when we moved." She pauses. “I was Meg Graham until Ted and I divorced, and I went back to Foster
“That can be confusing.” Teasingly he asks, “Are there any other names you go by?” Not expecting her to answer, he is more than a little surprised by her response.
A mischievous smile lights up her eyes. “Yes, one.”
“And that would be?”
“Megan Morgan! It’s my pen-name. I write romance novels.” She hesitates to tell him she writes erotic romances.
He pulls her closer. "So, am I about to kiss Meg Blavatsky, Meg Foster, Meg Graham, or Megan Morgan?"
Not waiting for an answer, feeling her lips hungrily respond, he hopes someday he will be kissing Meg Collingwood.
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