*Tristan*

The yacht slices through the water, with Eve of all people at the helm. Some scrawny lad stands slightly behind her and guides her. Her smile is so bright as to be blinding. Her laughter is carried by the breeze, and sitting at the end of the boat, I fight not to growl. I also fight to keep my stomach from heaving.

While we had missed the planned christening of the yacht, I had sent word to Raphael that the next time he took it out, Eve would like to join them. I had thought it would be weeks before I was forced to go sailing, but Raphael had...