In the bustling Glasgow Square, Tristan tried to focus on the tablet in front of him, but his attention kept wandering. He didn't like that Dylan was out of sight. He knew exactly where she was, but he couldn't see her through the glare of the coffee shop's window. Which meant he couldn't monitor how she was feeling, how she was handling the tumult of emotion he'd seen building over the last few days.

She had her phone, though. She could call or text him if she needed him. He checked his one more time, just in case. Nothing.

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