Mr. Eyre mingles with us for a while before disappearing to charm his other guests. There must be thirty people on board. The music is loud—electronic or techno or whatever the kids call it these days—and the energy is just... good.
“I need the bathroom,” Amanda whispers, her face a pale shade of green. “Can you… help me?”
“Of course,” I say, already steadying her.
She’s not drunk. I know she doesn’t drink. It’s the motion of the boat—it’s wrecking her.
Inside the yacht, I get her to the bathroom just in time. She throws up everything, and I hold her hair, whispering soothing things even though I know nothing makes puking less awful.
Once it’s over, I ask, “Feeling better?”
She rinses her mouth and nods weakly. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll survive much more of this. I knew it was a bad idea.”
“I can ask Mr. Eyre if there’s a way to get you back.”
“No! I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just stay close to the railing... just in case.”
“Smart. Let’s go.”
We sit far from the music and laughter. She leans against the rail, glaring at the ocean. I rub her back and tell her ridiculous stories to keep her distracted.
“Hey… isn’t that Mr. Walker?” she interrupts.
I squint toward the horizon. A sleek sailboat is cruising alongside us. A man’s at the helm.
And yep—there he is. Luca. White shirt unbuttoned at the chest, sleeves rolled, sunglasses on. Looking disgustingly perfect.
My stomach flips. “I think so,” I whisper, swallowing hard.
Luca turns toward us. I lift my hand in a wave. He nods—cool, unsurprised. He moves across the deck like he was born on that boat, handling ropes and doing a bunch of nautical things I absolutely don’t understand. He stays close, trailing us from a distance.
Then Eyre anchors near the coast. And of course—of course—Luca does the same.
“Walker!” Mr. Eyre calls. “Come over!”
No. No, no, no.
Luca throws down a massive buoy and brings his boat close to jump across.
Hell.
He boards, greets Eyre, and starts making his rounds like he owns the damn place. Karen makes a beeline for him, all perfume and determination, her heels clicking on the deck. She giggles, tilts her head just so, and flips her glossy hair over one shoulder before laying a manicured hand on his arm like she’s known him forever.
Don’t do this, Luca. Anything but this.
I try to focus on Amanda, still curled near the railing. “Sorry you’re going through this,” I murmur.
“Oh, don’t. My dad used to force us on boats growing up. I spent half my childhood just like this.”
“Lovely parenting,” I say with a dry laugh.
I hear a deep, resonating voice behind me. “Hey.”
I whip around. “Luca. Wow. What a surprise.”
He steps closer, scanning my face with his bare eyes, sunglasses now hooked into the collar of his shirt. His jaw ticks, the muscle shifting like he’s holding back something sharp. His gaze lingers, heavy, as if daring me to look away first.
“I thought it was you. Forgot there was a party today,” he says, lifting both eyebrows while his eyes cut past me toward the deck.
