Or at the very least a sedative.

“Are you okay?” Earl asks.

“Yeah. I just thought I saw my ex.” I shake my head and look toward that same spot, but Griffin is gone. Awesome. I’m imagining people now. We reach the end of the gangplank, hitting ground that doesn’t shift under my feet for the first time in a week. I didn’t get off the ship at the last two ports, hence Earl taking a stand today and forcing me to be a human.

“Cosy!”

I look around, worried that I really am having some kind of break, because now I’m hearing things too.

“You know that guy?” Earl asks.

“What guy?” I look up to find Griffin shouldering his way through the crowd toward me. He’s about fifty feet away and closing in fast.

“The one who looks like a mobster mated with a superhero.”

I glance at Earl, frowning. “That’s exactly what I thought the first time I saw him.”

“If he tears his shirt open and there’s a spandex suit under there, I’m getting pictures with him.”

“No, you’re not. Come on, I need to get out of here.” I grab Earl by the arm and start dragging him in the opposite direction of either a mutual hallucination or Griffin. My plan is to get my ass on the ship and hide out in my room, or maybe Earl’s, until we’re back at sea. At least I got five minutes of fresh air, give or take, and some exercise in the form of running away.

“What? Why? Who is that guy?” Earl looks over his shoulder as I weasel my way through the crowd. I’m small, and Earl is wiry, so we can slip through the gaps fairly easily, unlike Griffin who will have to bulldoze his way through.

“He’s a stalker, clearly.”

“You have a hot stalker?”

“It appears that way.”

“Cosy, please wait!” Griffin yells from somewhere behind me. He sounds closer, so I pick up the pace.

“But how do you know him?”

“I gave him my V-Card.”

Earl’s eyes go wide. “How long has he been stalking you?”

“Just a couple of months.”

Earl comes to an abrupt halt. Since we’re connected at the crook of the elbow, I almost clothesline myself and end up on my ass on the pier. “Hold the disco ball, you were a virgin until a couple of months ago?”

“Don’t judge. Now come the fuck on, I have no desire to talk to him.” I yank him through the crowd.

“What the hell happened?”

“It’s a long story including a pregnant ex-fiancée. I’ll elaborate once we lose him.”

We pop out of the crowd like a slippery newborn. I’m about to break into a sprint when Griffin jumps in front of me and spreads his arms wide. “Cosy, please.”

He’s not even out of breath, and I’m wheezing like an eighty-year-old with respiratory issues. “What are you doing here? Better yet, how did you find me, stalking stalker who stalks?” I yell, and cough.

“Just give me two minutes. Please.”

“The last time I gave you two minutes, it didn’t turn out well for me.”

People move past us, slowing and staring. I’d be embarrassed but I’m pissed, and freaked out because I want him here, but the fact that he is raises a shit ton of red flags and questions, like is he actually stalking me? And maybe that whole serial-killer hypothesis wasn’t too far off base?

“Besides, I’m over you. I have a new boyfriend, and he gives me orgasms just by looking at me.” I snuggle up to Earl and hug his bony arm.

I can feel Earl glaring at me like I’m insane. I might very well be at the moment. Griffin glances from me to Earl and back again, eyebrow raised in disbelief. It might have been more believable had Earl not been wearing a T-shirt with the phrase LIVING MY BEST GAY LIFE stamped over his chest in rainbow letters.

“I think you should give him two minutes,” Earl says.

“Hotness doesn’t equal a good choice, Earl. He has a baby mama,” I reply.

“It’s not mine,” Griffin injects into our side conversation.

I unhook my arm from Earl’s so I can plant my fists on my hips. “How stupid do you think I am?”

“Imogen lied. I wasn’t even in the country when she got pregnant.”

I stare at him for several long seconds, looking for signs that he’s lying. I can’t remember if looking up and to the left or right means you’re recalling or fabricating information. Regardless, he looks so broken, eyes all kind of sad and desperate. It takes me more time than is reasonable for all those words to sink into my brain. “How can you know that?”

“I went to an ultrasound appointment with her. The technician said she was three weeks further along than what she originally told me. Even if they were off by a week either way, I wasn’t in the US.” His expression is shadowed in anger and what is probably betrayal.