Kate glares down at the red square envelope that has occupied the lower left corner of her desk for the past 3 days.
No. She isn't going.
Picking up the heavy paper between her thumb and index finger, she turns to drop it in the wastebasket.
"You gonna spend your whole night here doing paperwork, or are you going to use that?"
Her fingers clench reflexively over the invitation, and Kate takes a quick calming breath before she turns to face Roy.
"Captain, I didn't know you were still here."
"Won't be for long. There's a hot grill and a cold beer waiting for me. You're always welcome to join us if you don't want to hobnob with Manhattan society."
"Thank you, really. And please give my best to Evelyn and the girls, but I think I'm going to catch up on some reading, maybe turn in early."
"He sent you an advance copy, didn't he?"
"No—no. I hadn't heard from Castle in weeks until this came." Somehow the envelope is tucked against her side.
Montgomery unfolds a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and perches them on his forehead.
"Suit yourself, but if I had the night off and an extra ticket to the most exclusive 4th of July party in the city, I think I'd trade in Jane Austen for champagne and caviar."
"Dostoyevsky, actually."
He arches one eyebrow as he pulls out a vibrating cell phone and backs toward the elevators.
"Duty calls. See you on Monday."
Kate smiles and waves as he updates his wife on his ETA and steps on the elevator.
Her hand hovers over the wastebasket again, but she can't resist one last look at the invitation. Untucking the flap, she slides the thick cardstock out and scans the engraved foil lettering, topped with a tasteful burst of fireworks. A single ticket and matching security pass peek out from beneath the post-it with Castle's neat printing.
"Couldn't use this—thought you might enjoy it. Happy 4th."
A peace offering. She shoves everything back inside with a shake of her head. Doesn't mean she has to accept it.
An hour later, she flashes the security pass to cross 10th Avenue at Chelsea Piers.
Ticket takers wait at the gangplanks of several boats—a pair from the Circle Line, a dinner barge with tables set in red, white, and blue, a Harbor Line cruiser overrun with screaming kids. As she approaches the end of her pier, a smiling, tuxedo-clad greeter waves her through and points her toward an enormous white yacht.
Apropos, Castle being "The White Whale."
Stepping on board, she tucks the ends of her hair behind her ears, and scans the clusters of sleek, over-tanned women in summery, one-shouldered dresses and big sunglasses. She had guessed right on her wardrobe at least.
A waiter hands her a flute brimming with champagne, a ripe, sugared strawberry splayed over the rim. Strolling along the bow, she spots a door propped open, peeks inside to find a candle-lit banquet room set for dinner, empty dance floor ringed by instruments for a band. Her eyes shut over a crystal clear flash of a red strapless dress, a snug black tux, and a smooth, rock-steady dip she had never gotten to repeat. Damn him and his arrogant curiosity.
Slugging back some champagne, she continues across the main deck, winding through chatting clusters of socialites, sipping drinks and nibbling passed hors d'oeuvres. A narrow stairway opens out to an upper deck mostly filled by another dance floor, this one set up for a DJ. An expansive bar stretches along the opposite rail, occupied by sport-coat-clad men eyeing the two small TV screens filled with baseball and golf.
A blast from the ship's horn signals their imminent departure, and as Kate drains the last of her champagne, she heads for an open spot closest to the Mets game. Bottom of the 8th with Philly up 4 to 1, and most of the heads on this end of the bar are either shaking in disgust or bowed over their glasses of scotch.
"What can I get you?" The bartender is straight out of GQ. Maybe the next three hours won't be a total bore…
Kate perches on a stool and shoots him a smile just as the engines whir to life and the boat glides away from its moorings.
"I'll have a scotch, neat."
On the edge of her peripheral vision, a head snaps around.
"Kate? You came?"
Her eyes shut at the sound of his voice.
No.
No no no no no.
Her lids open and she glances hard to her right, eyes landing on the smiling face of Richard Castle.
# * # * # * #
A/N: Part 1 of 3, for 4th of July.
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