(Andrew POV)
I push back through the glass doors into the ballroom, the cool night air clinging to my jacket as the party’s warmth and noise crash over me again. The jazz band’s picked up, a brassy swing filling the space, and the clink of glasses and laughter buzzes like static. My whiskey’s still in hand, the ice melted to a sad puddle, and I take a sip, the burn sharp but distant. Outside, Luke and Julia were huddled close, her under his jacket, their heads bent together, too close, too quiet, and it’s stuck with me, nagging like a splinter I can’t dig out. Sophie’s laughter cuts through the din, loud and bright pulling my eyes to her across the room. She’s holding court again, ring glinting as she gestures to some cousins, her voice a beacon in the chaos. I should go to her, play the
