Andrew Lane glanced at her, then at Tristan Davis, uttered a low “hm,” and turned away, his back to them.
Emily Blair looked up at Tristan Davis and said, “Let’s get going.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than Isabella Austin’s voice floated over. “Andrew.”
Emily arched an eyebrow and, before turning away, caught sight of Isabella with a radiant, gentle smile as she walked over to Andrew, slipping her arm through his. Andrew glanced down at her, the tension at the corners of his mouth softening into a faint smile.
After Emily turned around, Andrew pivoted as well, his dark eyes lingering thoughtfully on the couple’s retreating, affectionate silhouettes.
He narrowed his gaze, recalling the scene he’d witnessed earlier when he’d stepped out of the private room for some air.
Maybe it was coincidence, but from where he’d stood, he’d had a clear view of Emily and Tristan sitting together in the open dining hall.
Emily had been animated and expressive, flinging herself into Tristan’s arms with infectious energy, practically sparkling with excitement.
Tristan had looked down at her, eyes crinkling with fondness and adoration. No matter how playfully aggressive Emily’s advances were, he’d just wrapped her gently in his arms, shielding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
Their intimacy had been impossible to ignore.
Andrew had stood there, smoking, taking in every detail of their interaction.
Boyfriend, huh?
A wry, almost mocking smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Isabella’s voice came soft and concerned, “Andrew, are you alright?”

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