Isabel glances my way again as if she can read my mind.
“Hey, Iz, come here,” Drake calls, pulling her attention away from me. She crosses the room, quietly discussing something with the other two while the room continues to fill up and the patrons start taking their places at the tables. The workshop is set to begin in just a few minutes.
Every few minutes, Isabel glances my way cautiously then back to them to continue their conversation. With a tight-lipped expression, she nods. I stand stoically as she leaves their conversation and heads toward me.
“Silla wants me to help demonstrate,” she whispers carefully.
“With Drake?”
She nods, watching me with a sheepish look in her eyes.
“Sure. I think that’s a great idea,” I lie. As if watching them on stage, again, is going to make this already tense situation any better.
“Okay.” Staying glued in her spot for a moment, I notice the way she chews her lip and watches me, as if she’s waiting for me to say more. “You know…if you want to come up there instead of Drake…”
“No,” I cut her off. “I’m terrible at it. Drake’s better.”
“It’s okay that you’re bad at it. We’re supposed to be learning.”
“You two look better together anyway,” I reply, and her breath hitches as she stares at me.
“Isabel, you ready?” Silla calls, but it takes my wife a few long moments to tear her eyes away from me. Finally, she rushes to the stage with Silla and Drake and plasters on the same fake smile that Drake is wearing.
From the back of the room, I stand silently, staring with a vacant expression. Unlike the last time, watching Drake and Isabel touch each other does nothing but make me feel empty. They’re not excluding me. I’m excluding myself.
In the midst of my internal pity party, a deep voice whispers from behind me. “I’d call this a success.” I turn to find Emerson Grant surveying the crowd. A sense of pride swells in my chest at his words.
“Yeah. People are asking for more too.”
“I bet they are. You somehow managed to put this together quickly. You should be proud, Hunter.”
“I am,” I reply, turning toward him, my words coming out flat.
“Then, why are you sulking?”
“I’m not.” Even I hear how quickly I answered that.
He turns his attention to Isabel and Drake, giving her a quick, warm smile, which she politely returns from the front of the room. Then, he looks at me.
“Why is he up there and not you?”
“He’s better at it,” I reply.
With a nod, Emerson frowns, a crease forming between his brows. “Well, they do look good together.”
I force myself to swallow, seething jealousy and profound attraction warring inside me. “Yes, they do.”
“I’d lose my mind if Charlotte was that intimate with someone else—especially Drake.”
I flinch, my head spinning toward them. “Emerson,” I snap. The couple closest to us turns our way, but Emerson just smiles at them, and they lose interest in our quiet conversation.
“There’s nothing going on between them, if that’s what you’re implying,” I whisper in an almost silent, seething tone.
But he doesn’t even bother to look skeptical because the look on his face says it all—he knows. With a flat, unimpressed roll of his eyes, he pulls me into the hallway. I expect him to argue, but he doesn’t. “Drake said something strange to me this morning,” he says, adjusting his tie, and I tense. “He asked if I had any other projects for the club that needed to be completed before the end of the month.”
I force myself to swallow, without looking surprised or worried—both of which I am.
“Do you know if he has plans of leaving or taking on another contract?” he asks when I don’t respond.
“No.”
A round of applause accompanied by oohs and aahs fill the room behind me, and I turn in time to see Isabel, once again, wrapped around Drake; this time, her hands bound above her head. They’re smiling at each other, intensity coursing between their stares.
“I’d hate to lose him,” Emerson says quietly, and I turn to face him with a furrow in my brow. He cracks a smile. “I know you all think I’m not the biggest Drake fan, but that’s only because he tends to push my buttons more often than not, but he does good work. And I like having him around. Even if I’m the asshole who doesn’t say it enough. I should do a better job of making it known.”