Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
FINN
I fell in love with cooking when I was about five, I think. After me grandad passed, me granny moved in with us. We didn’t have a lot when it came to food, but somehow, she always whipped up the most magical meals. Nothing against me ma or da, but cooking was never their strong point. We got by, we ate grand, but with Granny? We ate like bloody royalty. I started offering to help — mostly because I wanted to spend more time with her — and from the start, she treated me like I was capable. She didn’t hand me some daft little job just to keep me busy. She showed me how to hold a knife proper, how to dice onions without crying all over them, how to thicken up a sauce when it was too watery, or stretch a meal when there wasn’t enough to go round. At first, it was just fun. But soon, it became an obsession. I loved making delicious meals from scratch. I loved hearing the praise when I got something right. I don’t feel confident many places… but I’m at home in the kitchen.
PRODUCER
Beautiful, Finn. We find it really fascinating that you use the specific term of food being your love language. In a previous interview, you said, “I don’t think there’s a better way to show you love someone than by cooking for them.” Can you explain that a bit?
FINN
It’s intimate, isn’t it? Cooking, baking, all of it… It takes creativity, thought, energy, and time. When you cook for someone, you’re not just feeding them — you’re saying, I see you. You’re thinking about what they love, what’ll make them smile, what reminds them of home. It’s not just picking out a card at a grocery store or ordering some flowers that someone else arranges and delivers. It’s personal. When I cook for the guests, it’s my job, sure, but it’s also me making this the vacation of a lifetime.
PRODUCER
And when you cook for your family, or your friends?
FINN
Ah, it’s even more special then. Feels like a proper love letter, doesn’t it? It’s like putting the kettle on when someone’s had a shite day, or warming their coat for them before they head out into the rain. It’s a small thing, but it says, I care. I’m thinking of you. It’s comfort, it’s celebration, it’s even a way to say sorry when words won’t come. In my family, we’re not the best at talking feelings out — but you know you’re forgiven when a plate of your favorite biscuits lands in front of you.
PRODUCER
Would you say you quite literally use food to declare your love, then?
FINN
One hundred percent.
Finn pauses, frowning.
FINN
What episode did you say this was for again?
The groans of a crew sharing mutual hangover woes carried through the crew mess like the wails of ship-wrecked ghosts.
I could barely stomach the coffee I very much needed as I wrapped up the interview with the production team. They wanted to get some reactions to the crew night out. I imagined they also wanted to capture how miserable we all were today on camera.
Brilliant jerks.
I escaped the interview mostly unscathed; although, they did question me about why I slept in the guest cabin. They also reminded me that every word between me and Finn last night had been caught on camera — but I dutifully ignored that point. My conversation with Finn had already played on repeat in my head all night long. I didn’t need the production crew to remind me of it, too.
I ducked into my cabin just long enough to swap my pajamas for my uniform — crisp polo, tailored shorts, hair slicked back into a bun. The boat was already in good shape after the work we’d done before heading out last night, but there was still plenty to tackle before the next guests arrived. We’d need every minute of the morning to make sure every surface gleamed and every pillow was perfectly fluffed.
And I’d need every bit of distraction work would offer to not think about Finn.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I felt even more confused and unsettled after all he’d confessed. Suddenly, he’d given power to the voice inside me that had always wanted to believe he gave a shit. All this time, I’d thought he was a player, that he’d just said and done what was needed to get me in his bunk for a season.
Even when it felt wrong to think it.
Even when, deep down, I felt I was wrong about that.
Maybe I just thought it was safer to feel angry and scorned than to admit that I’d been so deeply hurt.
Now, after last night, I had no fucking idea what to feel.
Fortunately, my cabin was empty when I popped in to get changed. Gisella was likely on deck already and Finn in the galley, but I wondered if he’d slept here with her last night since I had been in the guest cabin.