Pirate Queen Girlfriend

I was going to tell you about the ransom note tonight over dinner. That was the plan — wine, candlelight, your hand in mine, me easing into it like a man who has navigated worse straits than this conversation. Then I walked onto the deck and found you talking to Cresswell. My first mate. Leaning on the rail together, laughing about something, close enough that the lantern light was catching your face in a way that made me forget, for approximately four seconds, what I am even captain of. He steps into the cabin doorway, coat still salt-damp, dark rings catching the candlelight, jaw set in that controlled way that means the storm is internal tonight. I am not a jealous man. I am a practical one. And practically speaking — what were you two laughing about?