Eyes intent solely on Emily, Gavin drew in a deep breath. “Here’s to bottle caps, the Yankees and ‘birds,’ and most of all…” He paused, his voice lowering to a whisper. “And, most of all, to a beautiful girl named Molly who refuses to believe the man who loves her—the man who loves her more than she’ll ever know.” He then let out a light condescending laugh. “Oh, yeah…and to Emily and Dillon.”
Doubt.
There it was. Though barely skimming the surface, it was there, making itself known, stirring every nerve in Emily’s body. From somewhere deep within, her mind screamed out that he might not be lying to her. Closing her eyes, she choked back a sob that threatened to crawl up her throat.
Opening them back up, she felt her face go white as Dillon slowly—so slowly—turned in her direction, his eyes anchoring her with something she’d never seen before. With a frown snapping between his brows, he quickly turned and pinned Gavin with a glacial look.
Rising from his seat, Trevor grabbed for Gavin’s arm. “Come on, bro, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink for the night. I’m gonna take you home.”
Still staring at Emily, Gavin jerked his arm away. “That’s cool,” he sniffed haughtily. “This party fucking sucks anyway.”
Emily faintly registered the sound of Joan letting out yet another gasp.
Reaching for Emily’s hand, Dillon stood up. “I think me and Emily will walk you out, Gavin,” he replied, his voice ominously low with visible fury burning in his eyes.
Gavin glared at him a moment. He then turned and started making his way out of the room with Trevor.
Trying to suck in air that didn’t seem to exist, Emily rose from her chair, tremors rolling off her body in waves.
Standing up, Olivia whispered, “I’m going out with you guys.”
“We’ll be right back,” Dillon announced, his grip on Emily’s hand tightening.
“Is everything alright?” Henry probed, also rising from his chair.
“Everything’s fine, Dad,” Dillon answered, walking past him.
Emily’s sister looked at her with concern filling her eyes. She also went to stand up, but with two sharp shakes of her head, Emily mouthed for her not to. Reluctantly, she sat back down and whispered something into Michael’s ear.
As Dillon dragged her through the lobby, Emily struggled to keep up, her palm sweaty against his. When they stepped out of the restaurant into the frigid air, her eyes locked on Gavin, but he wasn’t looking at her. His focus was intent on Dillon.
Dillon snapped his head back and forth between Gavin and Emily. “Are you two fucking around?” he spit out through clenched teeth.
“No, Dillon,” Emily breathlessly answered, her body rolling with fear and nausea. “Nothing’s going on. Gavin’s just drunk.”
Gavin’s blue eyes hardened to gemstone brightness, bloodlust surging through his veins. “You don’t deserve her,” he growled, stepping closer to Dillon until their faces were almost touching. “Not… one… fucking… inch,” he added, his tone seething.
Before Emily’s heart took another beat, Dillon cocked his arm back and connected a sharp blow against Gavin’s mouth. Letting out a gasp, Emily pulled on Dillon’s bicep as she watched Gavin slightly stagger back. A cocky smirk washed over his face when he regained his bearings. Stepping forward, he wiped his hand across his bloodied mouth, his smirk never wavering as his hate-filled eyes never left Dillon’s. Dillon launched at Gavin again, but Trevor grabbed him and held him back. As if unaffected by any of it, Gavin stood as still as stone, glaring at him. Letting out a huff, he spit at Dillon. His blood-tinged saliva landed on Dillon’s cheek, slowly dripping its way down his face. Henry came rushing out of the restaurant, his eyes wide at the scene unfolding.
“You motherfucker!” Dillon yelled, struggling against Trevor and Henry’s hold. “I’ll fucking kill you, asshole!”
“Gavin!” Olivia let out. “Come on, I’m taking you home!”
Walking backward with Olivia tugging on his arm, Gavin stared at Emily. She could feel his cold and pain-stricken gaze slide over her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bottle cap and fingered it in his hand before flicking it at her. Emily felt it hit against her chest, her heart constricting and clenching in the process. Averting her eyes down, as though in slow motion, she watched as it hit the ground, spinning recklessly in circles. It mimicked her every emotion. Although Dillon continued his yelling and other patrons had gathered outside, the only sound piercing through Emily’s ears, like nails against a chalkboard, was the bottle cap clinking and clanking. It reverberated in her soul as a single tear broke loose, slipping down her cheek. Slowly lifting her head, Emily found Gavin staring at her. His beautiful face looked weary, broken, and defeated. He turned, and like a ghost vanishing through the air, he disappeared into Olivia’s car. In that second, with her heart in her stomach, Emily was sure that this last vision of him would sear itself into her mind, haunting her forever.
As she watched the taillights of the vehicle fade into a distant glow amid Manhattan’s chaotic traffic, she felt Dillon’s hand wrap around her arm, his ironclad grip burning into her flesh. Before she knew it, he was quickly leading her back into the restaurant with Dillon’s father and Trevor behind them. Swallowing hard, Emily swiped the tears away from her eyes, her body shaking and trembling from head to toe.
Once they entered the party room, Dillon let go of her and stalked over to the table where they’d been seated. Yanking her purse from the back of her chair, he fished his keys from his pocket, his face fevered with anger.
“Me and my fiancée are leaving,” he barked out, making his way back over to Emily.
“You can’t just leave, Dillon,” Joan retorted, her tone insistent as she looked around. She rose from her chair, sweeping her hand across the room. “You have guests here. It’s apparent something’s going on between you and Emily, but you need to tend to that later.”
He shot his mother a cold look. “Like I said, we’re fucking leaving.”
Joan’s eyes bulged, and she went to speak, but Henry placed his hand on her shoulder, effectively silencing his wife.
“I know what the fuck I’m doing tomorrow,” Dillon spewed, pointing to himself. After grabbing Emily’s hand, he pointed to the bridal party. “Do you all know what you’re doing tomorrow?”
With not a word whispered, the crowd of family and friends stared at him, nervously shifting in their seats. Emily’s sister went to get up. Once again, Emily shook her head, her eyes essentially begging her not to do anything. Pursing her lips in transparent worry, Lisa crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing on Dillon. However, she remained silent.
“That’s what I thought.” He pulled Emily toward the door. “We’ll see you all tomorrow at eleven.”
After retrieving Emily’s jacket from the coat check, Dillon weaved them through the lobby, nearly running into other guests. Once they reached his car, Emily drew in a deep breath, trying to coax down her stammering nerves. Sliding herself into the seat, she bit her lip nervously as she watched him round the vehicle, the blazing look in his eyes triggering an upsurge of fear throughout her entire system. Getting into the car, he slammed the door, and without looking at her, he started the engine. Suffocating.
Emily felt as if she was suffocating as he curtailed out of the parking spot, his hands tightening around the steering wheel, his jaw clenching and unclenching. As thoughts of Gavin fired off in her head, she noticed that they were heading in the wrong direction.
“I need to go back to my apartment,” she whispered, the blood whooshing through her veins. It pounded and correlated with the throbbing pain in her chest.
“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m letting you go back to your place,” he snapped, his eyes never leaving the road.
Emily’s heart seized and then started racing as though it was about to burst right through her rib cage.