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It towered above them, at least sixty feet of gleaming white fiberglass and teakwood. The name, Willows’ Way, was emblazoned across the side in huge gilded lettering.

Well, aren't we just so honored.

His stomach turned. With everything going on, all he wanted was to rip his shitty bow-tie off and go find Evie. Wherever the hell she was.

Exactly how, though? Not a damn clue.

That was the worst part about all of this. It had really hit Ethan how little he actually knew about Evie, which made finding her that much more difficult to swallow. He didn't even know her last name, for God’s sake. No phone number. Nothing. She’d always been so secretive, and he’d been too caught up in his feelings to even question it.

Ethan’s grip tightened around Joyce’s arm as his thoughts wandered.

“Uh—Ethan, honey, are ya’ alright?” Joyce asked with concern.

Refocusing, he forced a smile and nodded. “S-Sorry, yeah. Just not in much of a party mood,” he said.

Joyce smiled and patted his arm. “Well, think of it this way, honey. Free food and booze, right?” She winked, and we both laughed. “We’ll get through it, together.”

Ethan smiled and gave a reassuring nod. Before he could respond, a voice boomed from above them.

“Ward! Joyce!” Preston bellowed.

Here we go…

Ethan looked up to find Preston leaning over the railing, a glass of some kind of alcohol in his hand. Clearly already partaking in the party favors.

No surprises there.

Ethan’s jaw clenched as he turned to Joyce. She didn't have to say anything, her tight lips and raised brows said it all.

“Just smile and try to have fun, honey.”

Preston’s voice slurred above them as he announced to the crowd of guests. “Come on up, everyone, we’re heading out soon!”

Ethan and Joyce filed in with the crowd as they made their way up the yacht's gangway, carefully stepping aboard.

The deck was already packed with guests. More than he’d expected, and none of whom he recognized.

Ethan knew the only reason they were even invited here was because Preston wanted to keep whatever it was he wanted hidden, buried beneath the surface.

All the guests were decked out in expensive suits and designer dresses that probably cost more than Ethan’s salary.

“Oh wow, fancy!” Joyce exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

Ethan’s palms started to sweat, and he swallowed hard. He definitely did not fit in here.

“Y-Yeah…it’s something,” he murmured.

Catered trays of hors d'oeuvre passed by them, carried by waiters in tuxedos that made Ethan think of the penguins at the Seattle Aquarium.

Toward the stern of the yacht sat a full bar, already overflowing with drinks and people. Soft jazz played from hidden speakers, reminding him of the night at the Gray Gull, which only soured his stomach more than it already was.

Strands of twinkling lights were strung across the top of the boat down to the railings, like dozens of little stars floating above them. Even here, he couldn’t seem to escape the memories of his time with Evie.

Preston stumbled over to them, spilling dark liquor onto the deck. Ethan had to sidestep just so it didn’t splash on his shoes—not that it mattered.

“Glad ya could make it!” Preston slurred, slapping Ethan’s shoulder so hard it almost knocked him off balance. God, he hated this idiot.

Ethan smiled through clenched teeth, slowly nodding. “Yep, thanks for having us.”