Collide (28 page)

“I’m inclined to agree.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“Sure, if I get to pick the place.”

“Pick away.”

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a cocktail lounge in the East Village. Gavin was impressed with the neighborhood and Colton’s choice. A true mecca for artists, musicians, students, and writers alike, St. Mark’s Place was definitely hopping during happy hour. Gavin’s goal was simple—become hammered enough to remove the haunting images of Emily from his thoughts. He was pretty damn sure a decent amount of bourbon would aid in the exorcism of her from his mind.

Numb.

He wanted to feel absolutely one-hundred percent fucking numb.

As they exited Gavin’s vehicle, Colton came to an abrupt stop. “Now
there’s
something that might drag Emily from your head,” he said, motioning to a woman who was having car trouble.

Gavin studied her demeanor as she ducked out from under the hood of her vehicle. Holding her cell to her ear, she looked stressed as her frantic caramel-colored eyes locked on Gavin. Beautiful long hair—the same color as those eyes—whipped around in the blowing wind, along with her knee-length skirt. Unsteady in her heels, she tossed the strap of her purse over her shoulder as she slammed the hood down.

Colton nudged Gavin’s arm. “Go give her a hand.”

“She’s already on the phone. I’m sure she has someone coming to help her.”

No sooner did Gavin finish his sentence, she approached them with tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do either of you gentlemen have a cell I could use? Mine just went dead.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Gavin replied, digging in his pocket. He handed her his phone.

“Thank you,” she sniffled as she accepted it. She hastily dialed some numbers and sauntered a few feet away from them.

Gavin looked to his brother. “Go get her a tissue or something. I’ll wait here with her.”

Colton sent him a smirk that had him rolling his eyes. As Colton strolled toward the lounge and opened the door, the sounds of a live jazz band playing inside spilled out into the busy city streets.

The woman eventually made her way back to Gavin. “Thank you, I appreciate it. My brother owns a tow company, and he’ll be on his way soon.”

“Not a problem,” he said, tucking his cell in his pocket. “Looks like your head gasket’s blown.”

Once again, she sniffled. She glanced at her car and then back to him. “You can tell without checking it?”

“There’s white smoke coming from the tailpipe. That’s usually a pretty good sign.”

“Oh, are you a mechanic?”

Gavin smiled. “No, I just have a thing for cars.” She sheepishly smiled back. “I sent my brother to get you a tissue.”

“Thank you. I feel so foolish crying like this. It’s just been a tough few weeks.”

While he felt bad for her, he really didn’t have any idea what to say. So Gavin found himself slightly relieved when Colton re-emerged.

Handing her the tissue, Colton asked, “Were you able to get a hold of someone?”

She nodded and let Colton know she was waiting on her ride.

“While you’re waiting, why don’t you come inside with me and my kid brother?” Colton asked with a smirk aimed in Gavin’s direction. “Our treat, of course.”

Gavin quelled the sudden urge to knock him clear across the street.

With mild trepidation crossing her features, the woman smiled. “That actually sounds good. I could definitely use a drink, that’s for sure.”

Turning to open the door, Colton sent Gavin another wicked smile. “I know quite a few people that need a drink today.”

Gavin shook his head and followed them into the lounge. The melodious notes of a saxophone player belting out Louis Armstrong’s “La Vie en Rose” hummed through the air. Jazz was something that Gavin couldn’t help but come to love over the years. It was a constant entity throughout his childhood, being his father was a huge fan. The barest of smiles crept over Gavin’s mouth when the memory of his parents swaying on their back porch to the exact same song flooded his mind. With the words fitting what he felt for Emily, this particular song was one he’d imagined dancing with her—pressed close against his body and nestled tightly in his arms. The illusion he had created of them possibly being together couldn’t have been further from reality now if he tried. Like a slow fire burning, the ache for her—and now the need for more than a few shots of bourbon—curled through his thoughts.

After finding a table next to the dance floor, the woman that had introduced herself as Stephanie retreated to the restroom to fix her appearance. Promptly ordering three shots of bourbon and a beer to top it off, Gavin descended into what he hoped would turn into the numbness he so desperately sought. Within seconds of the waiter delivering the liquid comas, he downed two of those shots with grace.

Gavin glared at his brother. “Don’t even go there tonight.”

Smiling, Colton casually leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t say a word.”

“Right, you don’t have to,” he replied, his voice holding a heavy warning. “Your face is reeking of it, and I’m seriously in no fucking mood right now.”

With a proper arch of his brow, Colton chuckled. “So, let me see, you’re choosing the road that will inevitably leave you wallowing in your own self-pity?”

“You really have no fucking clue, do you?”

“No, brother, I do. Like I told you earlier, either fight for her or just let her go.”

Shaking his head, Gavin downed the third shot. “I don’t need you schooling me on what to do, Colton.”

“I know you don’t, little man. However, you can try and drink Emily away all you want,” he noted, giving a leisurely shrug, “or you can take advantage of the beautiful damsel in distress who’s wiping mascara from her pretty eyes right about now inside the restroom.”

“So now you want me to take advantage of women, huh?” he huffed as he cracked open his beer. “Not only are you annoying the fuck out of me, but you’re a walking contradiction.”

Colton laughed. “You know what I meant. Take a chance on something that’s more solid than what you’re running after right now.”

The nonchalant remark hit its target dead on, but Stephanie approaching the table saved Colton from being told off by his brother.

She took a seat across from Gavin and smiled. “I apologize for taking so long.”

“No need,” Gavin replied. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll take an Absolut and cranberry with a twist of lime.”

Gavin motioned for the waiter and gave him her drink order.

Upon closer inspection, Gavin found her to be as beautiful as Colton said. Her rich chestnut hair was glossy despite being slightly mussed, and her light almond-shaped eyes edged with thick lashes would’ve normally had him pulling out a line or two—but not tonight. Unfazed and unaffected, Gavin kept the conversation with her to a minimum, instead focusing on the internal battle he was currently having with himself over Emily. Colton made sure to keep her entertained though, occasionally throwing a jab of humor directed at Gavin every so often.

As the evening wore on, Gavin noticed that Stephanie was staring in his direction more intently. Wanting to crucify himself for paying her no mind, he ordered another few drinks and tried to focus on her a little more. He learned that she was in school for journalism and would graduate the following May. Along with an older and younger brother, she was the middle child in her family and grew up in Lindenhurst, a moderately sized town on Long Island. She enjoyed fine arts, music, traveling, good food, family, friends, and lazy summer days.

Still, with all of the fine attributes that she clearly possessed, Gavin couldn’t stop comparing her to what he wanted the most, craved the most, and what he unequivocally needed the most.

Emily…

There was no chill running down his spine when Stephanie spoke. Nothing lit up inside of him when she laughed. Even the slight touch she grazed on his arm every so often while she was talking did absolutely nothing for him.

Nothing.

For this, he felt like a total asshole for even carrying on a conversation with her because it was clear to him that she was interested.

And more clear to him that he wasn’t.

Nonetheless—whether from the alcohol that had accomplished its purpose or because he’d finally convinced himself that having Emily in his life was a bad idea—by the end of the evening, Gavin found himself exchanging numbers with Stephanie.

“Did she really have to come with us?” Olivia asked, her face coiled in disgust.

“Do you think I want her here?” Emily whispered, poking her head out from the bridal changing room. Dillon’s mother was fanning through endless amounts of wedding dresses with one of the consultants. “She wanted to come, and I wasn’t about to argue with her. Besides, she has some kind of dinner benefit that she’s attending at seven o’clock, so she won’t be here that much longer.”

Snapping her gum, Olivia rolled her eyes. “The woman’s like a fucking plague, devouring anything in her sight. I’ve never been able to stand her.”

Emily drew in a breath and turned her back to Olivia. She studied the Reem Acra wedding dress she was wearing. Turning from side to side, she asked, “How does this one look?”

Olivia took a lock of her blonde hair and twirled it around her finger. “Want honesty or flattery?”

“Come on, Liv,” she said, placing her hands on her hips.

“You look like a damn mermaid in it.”

Emily shook her head.

“Well, you asked for it, chick, and I chose the honesty route,” Olivia chirped with a shrug of her shoulders. As if a light bulb went off in her head, she added, “Oh, and I have an idea. How’s about
you
actually pick out your wedding dress since it’s your wedding? I swear if Plague Bitch comes in here with another fucking dress that she insists you try on, I’m dropping her right here in this boutique and beating her ass down.”

“Can you please calm down?”

“No, Emily, I will not calm down. You have my head so fucked right now with this whole wedding thing that I don’t even know what to think.”

Pressing her fingers against her temples, she closed her eyes. “What do you want me to say, Olivia?”

“I want you to tell me again why you’re rushing into this. It’s still not registering quite right in my brain. I’ll be honest though. I give Dingleberry props for hounding you for a decision when he said he’d give you the time you needed. But, really, Emily…November? It’s the first damn week of September already.”

“I told you, Liv. Dillon’s the last grandchild to get married, and they don’t think his grandmother’s going to make it past six months. She’s pretty sick right now,” she replied, motioning for Olivia to help unbutton her. “His family wants her to see him get married.”

Olivia reluctantly stood up and padded her way over. “Right, because you should base your future on his ancient fossil grandmother that might croak an hour after the wedding.”

“That’s not the only reason, and you know it. Do you know how long the wait is to have a reception at the Waldorf Astoria? Three years, Olivia. Dillon’s parents have connections, and there was a cancellation. That was the available date, so we took it.”

Olivia helped her slide out from the dress. “I’m gonna say two more things whether you like it or not.”

“As I expected you would,” she sighed, reaching for an airy chiffon A-line gown from a hanger. It was something she’d chosen.

“One, there would’ve been nothing wrong with waiting three years to get into the Waldorf if that’s the time you needed to really think this through.” Emily went to speak, but was silenced by Olivia smashing her finger against her lips. She then placed her hands on Emily’s shoulders and stared deep into her unblinking green eyes. “And two, you failed to mention
loving
Dillon as one of your reasons, friend.”

Emily held her stare for a moment, turned around, and quietly stepped into the “un-mermaid”-looking dress, pulling it up over her body. “You know I love him.”

Olivia came up behind her and zipped the dress closed. They looked at one another through the reflection of the mirror. “I also know what happened between you and—”

“Don’t,” she quickly cut her off, feeling that all-too-familiar pang deep in her stomach.

Still standing behind her, Olivia leaned into her ear and whispered, “He’s miserable, Emily. Trevor told me he’s never seen him so out of it.”

Emily’s heart wrenched at the thought of Gavin feeling like that, but she couldn’t fall like this—not now, not with him. It wasn’t right. No matter how much she sugarcoated it, it was wrong.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Olivia,” she whispered, stepping down from the pedestal.

“And you’re miserable, too, Emily. I can see it. Ever since that night, you haven’t been the same.”

“I’m not miserable,” she breathed out, trying to unzip the dress. “I was drunk, and it was a bad choice. The whole thing was a bad choice.”

“Do you need help with that?” Olivia asked softly.

Noticeably flustered, she let out a sigh. “Yes, please.”

Once again, Olivia helped unzip the dress, her voice low. “Sometimes bad choices bring us to the right people, Emily.”