Emily didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead, she panicked and texted him what she assumed might work.
Emily: I’m not home right now.
“Well,” Olivia said. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him I wasn’t home.” She tossed her phone onto the table; the thought of smashing it into pieces became more appealing by the second. “Now he won’t come here.”
“Oh my God, Emily. Now he’s definitely coming here.”
“Why would he show up, thinking I’m not even home?” she asked defensively.
“Gavin’s no fool, Emily, that’s why,” she pointed out, walking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. “If anything, you just drilled it into his head that Dillon’s here with you.”
“He won’t come here,” she replied, sinking herself into the couch.
“Friend, I’m telling you, he’s coming here.”
No sooner had Olivia finished her sentence, a knock came at the door—and a rather hard knock at that.
Heart racing, Emily hopped up from the couch and made her way over to it. She squinted her eye and looked through the peephole, finding Gavin standing in the hallway.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
Olivia walked over to her. “I told you. What the hell are you going to do now?” she asked, her voice as low as Emily’s.
“Tell him I lied about not being here. That I’m really sick in bed sleeping and…” She paused, wiping tears from her eyes as she tried to gather her thoughts. “That I didn’t want him seeing me because I look horrible or something.”
“How the fuck do I keep him from coming in here?” Olivia urgently whispered.
Gavin knocked again, and Emily swore she felt as though someone was holding a gun to her head.
“I have no clue, but don’t say anything to him right now about what I know. I’ll talk to him soon. I just can’t…” her voice trailed off. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she started to cry again.
“Em, I understand, okay?” Emily nodded. “I won’t say anything to him. Just go in your bedroom, turn the lights out, and get into bed. I’ll try to keep him in the hall.”
With her heart in her throat, Emily did as Olivia said and hastily made her way into her bedroom.
Olivia threw the door open, quickly stepped out into the hallway, and snapped the door closed behind her. Crossing her arms, she glared at Gavin.
Gavin stared at her for a moment, his intuition eating away at his stomach. “What the hell’s going on? Is he in there with her?”
“No. He’s not in there with her, Gavin. She’s in bed sick and very alone. She just passed out from some medicine I gave her earlier.”
“First of all, she just texted me less than five minutes ago. Second, why did she change her story all of a sudden?”
“Well, she has a low tolerance for any kind of meds. And, like I said, I gave it to her a good half hour before she texted you.” Olivia drew in a deep breath. “To address her changing her story, let’s just say she’s had a painstakingly tough day, and she looks like shit. She didn’t want you to see her like that.”
The corner of his mouth turned up a smirk. “Do I look like some kind of fucking moron to you, Olivia?” he blurted out, garnering a surprised look from her. “Because if I do, you’re sorely mistaken. If she’s in there trying to work shit out with him, the least she could do is fucking tell me instead of lying.”
“I just told you he’s not here. You’ve known me long enough to know that I’m not a conniving sneaky liar, Gavin.” Letting out a melodramatic sigh, she nonchalantly looked down to her nails. “It’s a shame I can’t say the same thing about certain people I know.”
Although confused by it, Gavin could tell there was more behind Olivia’s statement, but he wasn’t about to get into it with her—not then. However, he was definitely going to make sure he wasn’t being played. Walking right past her, he reached for the door and made his way in. With his heart thumping erratically, hitting the pit of his stomach, his eyes scanned the living room for Emily.
“I told you she’s in bed sleeping,” Olivia said insistently.
The word “bed” reverberated through Gavin’s head like a drumroll as a wave of nausea crept over him. Without thinking—and feeling quite like the certified paranoid psychopath he was convinced he was turning into—Gavin bolted down the hall toward Emily’s room.
“Holy shit! What the fuck are you doing, Blake?” Olivia let out, following right behind him. “She’s sleeping.”
Hoping to God Olivia wasn’t lying to him, he slowly opened her door, still trying to keep the woman he loved in his forethoughts. With only the faintest light spilling into the room from the kitchen—indeed showing Emily alone in her bed—Gavin was sure that the sigh of relief that seared from his lungs and passed through his lips had awoken her. He pulled in a heavy breath, leaned against the doorway, and plowed his hands through his hair.
“See? She’s sleeping, Gavin,” Olivia whispered. “Now come on. She doesn’t feel good.”
Gavin felt like a total asshole for not believing the woman he was supposed to trust. He couldn’t leave. He felt frozen to the ground as his ears soaked in the sound of her breathing—the breathing of the woman who’d repeatedly said she loved him less than twenty-four hours ago. By God, he adored and loved her, but even if only for a beat, he’d doubted what she’d told him. He didn’t intend to wake her, but he needed to touch her. He needed to feel some part of his angel’s body. Against the harsh whispers of Olivia’s pleas, Gavin found himself quietly moving across the room. He approached the bed where Emily lay asleep with her back turned toward him. He let a bittersweet smile form on his lips as his fingertips lightly brushed through her hair. He leaned over her, his body movements careful not to wake her, as he grazed the side of her jaw with his knuckles.
“I love you, Emily,” he whispered before he softly kissed the back of her head. “I wish I was here today to take care of you, doll.” That was all he needed—just that little bit—and he knew he’d be able to sleep through the night.
With her breathing increasing by his wanted and unwanted touch, Emily’s head screamed “you infuriate me; you disgust me; you’ve shattered me” while her heart cried out “please stay; I need you in my life; we’re supposed to be amazing together.” A hot tear trickled down her cheek as her fingernails dug into her clenched fists. But she didn’t move. Her body was still as she heard him leave the room. Olivia walked him out of the apartment—and out of her life. Releasing the breath she had been holding from the moment he’d walked into the apartment, Emily turned over onto her back. Through tear-flooded eyes, she took in the sight of Olivia’s silhouette, standing just outside her door.
Olivia went to walk in, but Emily spoke up. “I just need to be alone,” she cried out. “Okay? I’m…I’m so sorry I put you through that, Olivia. I’m so sor…sorry,” she stuttered through her cries. “Thank you so much. But I just can’t…I ca…can’t talk about it.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright, Em?” Olivia whispered, her voice thick with concern. “I’m supposed to meet Tina in a little while. I could stay home if you need me to.”
Sniffling, she shook her head. “No, you go. Go have a good time. I’ll be okay.”
Olivia stood there for a second, let out a heavy sigh, and then slowly closed the door.
In the pitch dark of her room, Emily curled the blankets tightly around her trembling body, her head trying to absorb the wicked day that’d been cast upon her.
Sleep.
She needed sleep like she needed oxygen, water, and food—yet, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t find any tonight. No. Sleep wouldn’t be her friend this evening.
Instead, loneliness, hurt, confusion, and pain would replace it.
Chapter Eighteen