Love on Board

by Aries Skye

Genres: Romance; African American Romance; Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

When a guarded divorcée and a love-weary mogul cross paths on a singles cruise, a pact to keep things platonic sets sail toward a second chance neither of them is ready for.

Aquila Richards-Oliver has the life many envy: a high-profile husband, two beautiful sons, and a seemingly perfect role as wife, mother, and big sister. But perfection comes at a steep price. When her marriage to a world-renowned chef unravels under the weight of betrayal and long-buried truths, Aquila chooses herself—for the first time in years—and begins the hard work of rebuilding her life on her own terms.

Roman Patterson has built everything but a family. At thirty-five, the successful entrepreneur has more wealth than time and more regrets than romance. Convinced love has passed him by, he reluctantly agrees to a singles cruise, expecting nothing more than cocktails and casual distractions.
What neither Roman nor Aquila expects is to find each other—on a boat in the middle of paradise.

They make a pact to enjoy the cruise as friends, but their connection is instant, and the chemistry is undeniable. As sparks fly and emotions deepen, they’re forced to face the realities waiting back on land: exes, children, broken trust, and wounds that still sting.

Can Aquila let down her guard and believe in love again? Can Roman prove he’s more than a fleeting escape? Or will the past sink the promise of something real?

Release date: January 27, 2026

Publisher: Black Odyssey Media

Print pages: 288

Sample

Prologue

Aquila

Pull yourself together, internally, I coached myself.

Parking my G-Wagon in the empty church parking lot, I flipped down my visor and peered into the mirror. I breathed deeply in and out as I closed my eyes and tried to center myself. I couldn’t fathom how I practiced thirty minutes of yoga every day and went to the gym four days a week to be still this stressed out.

When I left the house twenty minutes ago, I was determined to do as planned and have a girls’ night out with my sisters—a night that I’d advised my husband of for the past month. He knew that our sisters’ quality time had been limited since Nissi married Kannon and Angela had solidified her relationship with Kinston. Having been in their position, I understood. All they wanted to do was have “couple time” with their significant others, and I couldn’t blame them. Once upon a time, I’d been in their shoes with Joel back when it was Joel and Aquila Oliver forever. Those days now seemed to be a far-distant memory. It made me feel reduced to a group member in the Oliver clan instead of his wife and life partner, as if he were David Ruffin, and I was the Temptations. But he forgot the main rule: No one was bigger than the group. Everything—and I do mean everything—was centered, focused, surrounded, and concentrated on Joel and his needs and desires over anything and everyone else.

Just like tonight. He waited until he came home to announce that he was invited to some function supporting one of his mentors, and I needed to be available to attend. I was taken aback for a few reasons: his lack of asking but rather demanding, his lack of concern for who would babysit our children, and his lack of thoughtfulness over my previously discussed plans. Thank goodness our kids were already at my parents’ house. After reminding him that I had planned an evening with my sisters, I slipped on my celadon sleeveless, ankle-length bodycon dress, which paired perfectly with my gold YSLs. Rather than concede and attend the function unaccompanied or stay at home for all I cared, he began ranting about my attitude and absences of late, as if he had any room on his moral barometer to chastise me on one’s attitude and absences. The same man whom none of my family members or friends wanted to endure. The same man who made me feel as though I were a single parent in my marriage. The same man who made me feel as though I were a single woman masquerading as a married one. I’d become accustomed to biting my tongue over the years, so much so that I had lost who I was aside from being Joel Oliver’s wife-turned-handmaid.

Lately, though, I’d been finding my voice more and more, and tonight had been no exception. A full-out argument ensued, with me leaving the house and heading for Angela’s place—Joel and his demands be damned.

However, halfway there, I reverted to the doting wife, and guilt began to gnaw at me, not necessarily for Joel but for the guest of honor. Jansen Carlyle had helped us bail out financially when Joel’s restaurant had taken an unexpected hit. Being among the elite with friends in high and well-off places fared well in dire circumstances. Jansen had been our ram in the bush, and I’d always be eternally grateful for that. Had my husband taken the liberty to notify me ahead of time, I would’ve gladly been present. And that’s what chipped away at me now. As much as I loved my sisters, it would have felt disrespectful not to attend Jansen’s soiree, given the measures he’d taken to support my family. It was for that reason that I sat in this empty lot, coaxing myself into a façade so that I could support Jansen as the dutiful wife of Joel Oliver.

“You’ve got this, Lah. Just head home, apologize, slip into a little black dress, and do what needs to be done.”

Smoothing the edges of my hair, perfectly pulled into a slick ponytail meeting at the nape of my neck, I cast away the negative vibes of earlier and pulled out of the lot, heading back to my house. Thankfully, my phone call to Angela went unanswered, allowing me to disappoint her and Nissi via voicemail. As I drove, my eyes kept bouncing to the three-carat princess-cut diamond on my hand. Be his wife. If Joel did nothing else, he afforded our babies and me a lifestyle that most longed for, so I couldn’t be upset that he wanted to honor the man who helped continue making that American Dream a reality for us. With that, I resolved to make this right with my husband.



As I eased into the house, I expected Joel to be in our bedroom getting dressed for the event. When I didn’t find him in our bedroom or bathroom, I went on a search for him throughout the rest of the house.

“Joel?” I called out, checking in our family room. “Humph.”

Then it dawned on me—his man cave.

Schlepping toward his private mantuary, I opened the door when I heard a sound resonating from the television. “Joel, baby, I’m sor—”

The words were lodged in my throat as the entire scene unfolded in my view as if it were in slow motion. There sat my husband on the couch, jerking off to the sight of two men on the screen, straight barebacking. Tears filled my eyes as my hand flew over my mouth, trapping the wail that could barely squeak past my closing esophagus.

“Shit, Aquila!” Joel scrambled, trying to cover himself and turn off the television simultaneously. “I thought you were with your sisters.”

Hot droplets fell from my rapidly blinking eyes as I tried my best to gather my bearings before I fainted. Joel had somehow managed to turn off the porn and reclothed by the time I found my voice.

“Aquila…”

“So, this is what you do while I’m not at home? Get your rocks off on gay porn?” Joel moved to touch my arms, and I swatted him away. “Don’t you dare.”

His face fell, and worry lines spread all over it. “Baby—”

“Baby? Baby?” The audacity of his words was displayed in mine. “You’re standing here with precum leaking through your slacks from watching men…men…have sex, and now, you want to call me baby?”

“Just let me explain, please. It’s not like I was cheating on you.”

The rage of every disrespected married woman in the history of marriage set my soul ablaze, and I reached back to the depths of before Christ and smacked the hell and probably the rest of the ejaculation out of him. His head snapped so far to the right, it appeared as if I’d sprained his neck. I could only hope.

“You sorry sack of shit. When I accepted your hand in marriage, you promised this would never be an issue. You told me—swore to me—that you loved me and only me and that I’d never have to worry about your infatuation with men.”

There it was. Our closeted bones laid bare.

Joel and I had met through mutual friends when we were in college. We’d become fast friends and eventually decided to explore being lovers. I’d broken it off with him because while I loved and cared for him, something didn’t seem quite right between us. Joel had pleaded with me to give him another chance, but I didn’t. We agreed to remain friends, and we did. We became the best of friends, in fact. We were so close that one night, in a drunken binge in my apartment, he confessed his greatest secret: He was bisexual. Before we could delve into his admittance, we passed out in my living room, senselessly inebriated, and the next day, the encumbrance of his confession came down like the weight of the world. He tried to backpedal, but after reassuring him that our friendship was a safe space, he admitted that his confession was the truth. Though he stated he’d never cheated on me when we were together, and I’d believed him, he said that he still had urges from time to time. According to him, it wasn’t every man he was attracted to, just whoever caught his eye.

As far as women, he was attracted to them, and he was still head over heels for me. He’d even confessed to having slept with two men in his past. One guy was in his senior year of high school, during a band competition. The other guy came during the summer of his freshman year in college, during a summer internship. He claimed that neither was a relationship, just mutual sexual attraction and intimacy.

While I had been devastated because he didn’t disclose this information before we dated and slept together, I put our friendship above my angst and disappointment. Besides, we’d both been tested and yielded negative results, so I could at least be thankful for that. But in that moment, it became painfully obvious why he insisted that we test before we had sex. He claimed that I’d been the only woman—hell, the only person he’d ever been in love with—and he wanted to ensure our safety. He’d only been the second man that I’d slept with besides my high school boyfriend after our senior prom, but I went along with it because I’d never tested after intercourse with my old boyfriend. Therefore, I saw the benefit. It only took one time to contract a disease, just as easily as it was to get pregnant after one time. Now, here we were, back here again.

“And I’ve kept that promise to you, Aquila.” Frustration oozed from him as he scrubbed his bald head. “I’ve never cheated on you with a woman or a man.”

“No. You jack off to men when I’m not around!” The patter of my footsteps created a cadence as I paced. “So now I know why our sex life has been nonexistent.”

His hand flailed up as he held up his index finger to cut me off. “Don’t. Don’t do that. You know I’ve been stressed. The financial struggles we are powering through with the restaurant have left me drained and depressed. You know that. My focus has been on securing a future for my family, and I’m sorry if intercourse and intimacy are not on my menu.”

“But clearly, men and pornos are on your plate right now.” I squinted as I stalked up to him and poked him in the chest. “We haven’t had any type of relations in a year, but instead of arranging quality time with me and instead of showboating this farce of a marriage in front of your power-elite friends, you’d rather bust quickies from gay porn.”

“Like your rose doesn’t get overtime,” he said, seething. “I’ve come home plenty of nights to hear that thump-thump-buzz setting getting more action than me.”

The incredulous scoff that I released echoed throughout his den of lies. “Excuse me for creating time to nurture my needs that you haven’t bothered to take care of. At least my rose time was spent thinking of you, Joel, instead of thinking of John and James, like you.”

The reality of what was transpiring suddenly tumbled on me, and I couldn’t stop the sting of fresh, hot tears from clouding my eyes. I swallowed and blinked to no avail. A guttural wail emanated through my body as I began to shake uncontrollably. My marriage and my life had fallen apart. Only it’d been falling for a few years now. The friendship we’d built had long since withered away, and the vows we’d recited were nothing more than devalued words on paper devoid of any truth they once held. We had officially become two people joined by babies and businesses. This was not what he promised me; he owed me so much more—a lifetime of forevers.

His eyes and demeanor softened when I glanced at him as I leaned on the bar to support myself. He looked genuinely concerned about me, an emotion I hadn’t witnessed or felt from him in so long that it appeared foreign on his features. It dawned on me how asinine it was that my husband’s concern felt unnatural. He was the one person whom I should be able to lean on for love, care, concern, and comfort, yet he wasn’t. My parents, my sisters, my babies, and my friends had filled that void for so long that I hadn’t realized that he’d vacated the spot that only he was supposed to fill. They were supposed to be the supporters. He was supposed to be my one. My person. My husband. I’d been his wife a million times over without reciprocation. And that thought shifted my heartbreak into rage.

Swiping my hand down my face to wipe away my tears, I turned unemotional and hardened eyes to him. “I stood by your side as your friend even after you weren’t forthcoming about your attraction and intercourse with men before we dated and slept together. I stood by your side as your woman, even after that, when you begged me to give you another chance because you stated that I was the only one for you. I swallowed all of your deceit and secrets because I loved you when any other woman would have left, leaving you to pray she kept your hidden desires to herself. But I stayed. I forgave. I supported. I trusted you. I loved…you a hell of a lot more than you were ever capable of loving me.”

Droplets fell from his eyes as he sniffed and cupped his hand over his face, sliding them away. “But I do love you so much. Baby, I realize how this may seem, but you must believe it’s still you for me. I still—”

I rolled my eyes, and a knowing smirk crept onto my face. I peered into his deep-set, russet eyes, which once held the charm to convince me of anything short of disavowing my faith and separating from my family…only to feel emptiness coursing through my veins. Nothing about him could sway me—not his dazzling Colgate smile; his creamy beige bald head, which I used to caress; or his plush beard that used to tickle places on my body that once made me submit to his every will. Nothing.

“Not this time, Joel. What is it that you need from me now? To ensure you’re included in more of your family’s business ventures, or are you just holding on so you won’t get cut from your father’s will?” I exhaled. “What type of sacrificial savior must I be for your gain this time?”

He was stuck on stunned because he knew I was correct. When Joel first asked me to marry him, I knew we weren’t ready, despite how much we loved each other. Initially, I’d asked to wait, but he kept pressing, so I figured that perhaps my insecurities about his past were holding me back. I loved him, and he loved me, so marriage seemed to be the next progressive move. It wasn’t until the night of our wedding rehearsal dinner that another hurtful truth was revealed.

Our wedding rehearsal dinner had been one for the history books. It was filled with delicious food, beautiful family, and entertaining music. The DJ had the atmosphere poppin’, and I found myself dancing with my future husband, my sisters, and my entire wedding party. I was sweaty and exhausted when we finished every Black person’s slide dance imaginable. Earlier, my future father-in-law had wrangled my future husband off the floor from me to talk, so I decided to grab some fresh air and locate my man.

When I languidly waltzed out on the patio and into the plush green gardens outside the restaurant, I heard Joel and his father before I saw them. I almost called out to them when I heard Mr. Oliver express his pride in Joel. I didn’t want to interrupt such a precious moment, so I waited in the background for him to finish.

“Son, you don’t know how proud it makes me that you’ve chosen Aquila to be your wife. She is a marvelous young woman and will be a wonderful and doting wife.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“And I’m so glad you let that other lifestyle go. I knew it was only a fad. I couldn’t have my only son out here ruining the Oliver legacy. We’re thoroughbreds. Now, with Aquila by your side, you’ll bless your mother and me with the grandchildren we deserve.”

“Can you not bring that up? I love Aquila, but it’s not like you gave me much choice but to rush into marriage.”

“You love her. She loves you. Where’s the rush? Marriage is the natural progression of love for two young people in a relationship.” He cleared his throat. “And we both know there was no way I’d pass the restaurant on to you if you continued sowing the wrong oats. There’s no place for that sassy shit in our family or our family business. Besides, your mother wanted me to retire early so we can travel the world.” He patted him on the shoulder. “I only guided you to do the naturally right thing.”

At those words, I bolted from around the corner as if someone had lit a torch on me. “Joel!” I cried out. “Is that the only reason you wanted to marry me—to obtain your father’s restaurant?”

Mr. Oliver and Joel spun around at my words. Joel looked mortified, but not more so than me. Running over to me, Joel grabbed my hands and pleaded. “No, baby. Not at all. It’s just that my father, he—”

“He wouldn’t turn over his business to you until he felt secure that you’d be with a woman and not a man.” The words came out softly as realization poured over me.

Mr. Oliver walked over to me, gently turning me to face him. Cupping my face, he peered into my teary eyes. “Aquila, my son loves you. So, for that, I owe you a debt of gratitude. You’re the only woman he’s ever loved, and quite frankly, you saved him. You shouldn’t look at this as him settling, but rather as him setting you up in life. As his wife, you’ll have total access to all things Oliver.”

“I don’t care about all things Oliver. I care about Joel. I love him, and up until this moment, I thought he loved me. How can I go through with a wedding with a man who’s unsure of this union because of his sexuality?” I tossed a glance at Joel, who appeared outright terrified.

“Oh no, darling,” Mr. Oliver coaxed me. “He’s not confused at all.” He turned a stern glare at his son. “Don’t you see your future wife needs you? Get over here and settle her.”

Joel walked over to me, taking my hand and guiding me away from his dad. “I love you, Aquila, and yes, Father wants me to take over his restaurant, but that doesn’t negate how I feel about you. I love you. I’m sure we both would’ve been right where we’re at sooner or later, but my father wants to retire.”

“And he’s going to need a wife to assist,” Mr. Oliver cut in.

“Father,” Joel said, exasperation lacing his tone, “can you let me talk to my fiancée?”

“Sure, son.” He came to me, attempting to comfort me by touching my arm. “Don’t walk away from this opportunity. My son can and will provide a wonderful life for you.” With that, he made his way back into the restaurant.

I slapped Joel before the door could close. “You used me.”

“No, I did not. I love you, Aquila, but is it so bad if that comes with perks?”

“If it comes at the price of not living your truth—yes.”

“My truth?” he whispered, caressing my face and leveling me with his mesmerizing aura. “My truth is that I’m completely in love with you. I have been since the moment I laid eyes on you. Have I dabbled in the past? Yes. But I only have eyes for you. I only love and am in love with you. If you take my hand in marriage, I promise you’ll never have to worry about me with any other person, woman or man. I’m committed to you and the life that we’re building. I’m dedicating my life to us, Qui. Please. Just trust me.”

I loved that man so much that he could’ve told me he walked on water, and I would’ve believed him.

“I trust you.”



Joel and I stood there in a test of wills. However, I refused to be the one to give in this time. Not this time. This time, I was putting Aquila first.

“Baby, I don’t know what to say. I–I love you,” he stammered.

I closed my eyes as a solitary tear streaked down my face. “Say your truth. Not for me. For you. You love me, but you’re no longer in love with me, Joel, and you haven’t been for a long time. Free us both.”

When I opened my eyes, he stared at me with a gamut of disappointment, confusion, and regret stirring in his orbs. “I…uh…I think. I want to explore…men.”

He’d said it. Spoken his truth. Now, it was time for me to speak mine.

“And I want a divorce. Get out of my house.”

Chapter One

Aquila

Two Years Later

“Junior, run upstairs and grab your backpack. I’m not bringing it to you this time if you leave it.”

An irritated huff escaped as Junior rolled his eyes and haphazardly got up from the breakfast nook with his empty plate, heading toward the sink.

“Hey, hey. Don’t get that attitude with me, young man. If you’d remember to bring it with you when you first come down, then I won’t have to remind you every morning.”

“I’m going, Mom. Geez.”

That was my oldest son, Joel Oliver, Jr., whom we affectionately called Junior.

Have kids, they said. It would be fun, they said. The thought ran through my mind as I tried to rub the impending headache from my frontal lobe. It only threatened to magnify as I heard my insouciant nine-year-old schlepping up the stairs to his bedroom. Shaking it off, I turned to see my six-year-old, Sante, shooting fadeaways into the syrup with bits of his French toast sticks, and I gently thumped him on the shoulder.

“Ouch,” he hollered in an overly dramatic fashion.

“Quit playing with your food and eat. We’ll be leaving in a few.”

His obedience to my instruction was to shove an entire stick into his mouth at once. With a mouth full, he garbled, “Look, Mom.” When I focused my attention on him, he continued, “I’m eating seafood. See? Food.” His mouth flew open to reveal a mushy mess of cinnamon sticks and gooey syrup swirling around. It was a sight that I could’ve lived the rest of my days without witnessing.

“Stop being disgusting.”

He giggled as if I’d told the most hilarious joke in the world and scarfed down the rest of his food. Boys. God would bless me with boys. After making sure they had all their belongings, securing the alarm system, and shuffling us all into my Lexus RX 350, a stylish and comfortable downgrade from that monstrosity Joel had insisted I get, I pulled out of the driveway, ecstatic to get them off to summer camp for the day. I loved my sons, but on days like today, when they tested every one of my nerves, I welcomed the break because being a single parent wasn’t easy.

Their father, Joel Oliver, Sr., and I had been divorced for nearly two years. Taking care of my sons sans my ex wasn’t new. I had always been their primary caregiver, even during our marriage, but the few things he managed to do—like washing and drying a load of laundry now and then or taking out the trash and handling other household tasks—are what I miss. Now, it was solely my responsibility, along with my two unreliable, broke best friends. I share some of the blame because I pampered them during the divorce and for a time afterward, due to the guilt I felt for initiating the loss of their two-parent dynamic. Furthermore, the emotional toll affected not just Joel and me; it also impacted them. In my haste to care for their mental and emotional well-being, I neglected to enforce some household rules.

Now, I was dealing with the scars from the bruises those bumps caused as I tried to help them learn to be responsible little humans, teaching them that I am Aquila, their mom, not Aquila the maid.

“Hey, sissies.” I smiled into the FaceCall.

“Hey, sis,” Nissi and Angela said in unison.

“Have you dropped the boys off yet?” Nissi asked.

“No, I’m—”

“Hey, Auntie Nissi and Auntie Angela,” the boys boomed boisterously at once, cutting off my response while my sisters cheerfully waved and gushed over them.

“We’re in the drop-off line,” Sante yelled, flashing his snaggle-tooth grin over my shoulder at the phone’s camera.

Out of left field, Junior hit Sante on the arm. “Sit back, stupid.”

Retaliating, Sante swung back at him but missed as Junior dodged with his quick reflexes. “Shut up, stupid.” Not wanting to be outdone, Sante resorted to his “I’m the baby” go-to move of dramatic tattle-telling. Gripping his forearm, he whined, “Mom, Junior hit me.”

As if I didn’t see the shit unfold in 4K.

“Aye, y’all stop aggravating your mama,” Angela chided as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“And apologize to her,” Nissi added, her typically soft and bubbly demeanor transformed into a deep scowl.

The boys’ faces immediately fell, revealing their heartbreak because heaven forbid their favorite aunties be upset with them. I carried those little terrors for nine months. I fed, bathed, clothed, and drove them around all their lives, but to hell with my feelings. As long as their aunties were happy, that was all that mattered in life. The joy of being a mother was priceless.

A unified “Sorry, aunties. Sorry, Mom” flowed from their mouths.

Of course, my wussy sisters folded like wet papier-mâché to a chorus of “It’s okay, just don’t do it again.” Meanwhile, I knew they would do it again.

“I’ve told you boys to stop fighting a billion times.” My eyes darted to the rearview mirror to meet my eldest son’s gaze. “And Junior, you know better. You’re the oldest. Knock it off.” Before he could respond, my eyes darted to Sante. “And Nisante Thurgood Oliver, you better not stick out your tongue.”

Upset that his plan was thwarted, he slammed back into his seat as I inched my car forward, grateful to be at the front of the drop-off line.

“That kinda morning, huh, sis?” Nissi asked sympathetically.

“Anyway. Where’s my nephew?” I asked Nissi in return.

Her smile brightened whenever anyone mentioned her eighteen-month-old baby boy, Kain Nisan Jordan, named after both of his grandfathers. That’s because he was still in the adorable stage. I’d see how she felt about it once the terrible twos began.

“My little KJ is with his daddy. Kannon took him to daycare for me this morning on his way to the station.” Nissi sat up from her vanity as if she had just remembered something. “And it’s nice of you to ask since you reneged on keeping him for me on Sunday.”

“How many times do I have to apologize? I swear it had to be one of those twenty-four-hour bugs I caught from these boys from one of their little playmates at camp.”

Nissi looked unconvinced as she continued to apply her makeup, but it was the truth. Rather than continue to press that issue, I focused on Angela, who was getting a kick out of the back-and-forth between Nissi and me.

“Okay, Ms. Sniggles and Giggles, where is my favorite niece?”

“At 5:10 in the morning on the West Coast for a teenager on summer break? I’m pretty sure she’s still in bed, fast asleep. I bet Fawn would be doing the same if she were here on the East Coast. She left this past weekend to visit her best friend back in California. She’ll be back in a week to spend her last two weeks with us before returning to her mom’s.”

Before I could respond, my car door swung open, revealing a beaming camp worker. “Good morning, Ms. Richards. Hey, Joel and Nisante, are you guys ready for today?”

The boys roared their excited answer to the young lady as they began to exit the car.

“Hey, y’all, I need to go. I’ll see you both tonight, right?” I asked my sisters.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” they said in unison. “Love you.”

“Love y’all roundtrip,” I bellowed before disconnecting my phone to send my children off. I rolled down my passenger-side window. “All right, see you this afternoon, boys,” I shouted as they barreled out of the car. “Be good, and stay safe—”

Both of them turned to me, leaning into the open window. “We will.”

“Love you, Mom.” Junior flashed a gleaming smile my way.

“Love you, Mommy,” Sante shouted, adding a blown kiss.

I caught it and hugged it to my heart. “Love you boys more. Have a good day.”

“You, too!” they screamed as they rushed to the sign-in table with the other kids.

My heart was full as I doted on my two heartbeats before pulling out of the line to head back home and start my day. Despite the stress of our morning routine, those boys were my entire world, and I loved them immensely. The joy of being a mother was truly priceless.



The bustle of noise caught my attention as I sat waiting for my children’s talent show to begin. When I turned to see what all the commotion was about, I facepalmed as I realized my sisters were making th. . .