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“What did he say to you?” Lisa whispered with panicked curiosity burning behind her eyes.

Emily rubbed the side of her temples. “He keeps saying he didn’t do anything with her,” she answered, trying to keep the stinging tears threatening her eyes from spilling out. “He just…I don’t know.”

Pressing her lips into a hard line, Lisa studied her with concern. “Emily, is it at all possible that he’s telling the truth?”

Slowly, Emily turned her head, her gaze immediately locking with Gavin’s. As it did every time she stared at his beautiful face, her heart raced, and her breathing became uneven. Though he was talking with Trevor, standing with both elbows propped on the bar, his eyes were intent on hers. The sadness surrounding his presence was sickening, dragging her spirit down with him. Emily didn’t know how long they stared at one another, but it felt like forever. She ran a hand through her hair, the need to believe his words growing to unbearable heights in her chest. Unwillingly, she tore her attention from his, bringing it back to her sister.

“I’m so confused, Lisa,” she whispered. “I keep seeing her open his door. She wasn’t dressed…she was so…beautiful.”

Before Lisa could question the situation any further, Joan called out to Emily from a few feet away. Emily’s head snapped up, her body trembling in the process.

“There you are,” Joan huffed, a questioning look molding her face. “I searched—”

“Yes, Joan,” Lisa interrupted, rising to her feet. She reached for Emily’s hand, and Emily stood up with her. “We know. You searched high and low for my sister. She needed a breather. I’m sure you understand how nervous a bride can be the day before her wedding,” she said, offering a smile, one that Emily knew to be as fake as they come.

Joan drew up a slow brow. “Of course I can,” she flitted. Taking a sip of her white wine, she waved her hand in the direction of the U-shaped table in the middle of the room. “Everyone needs to take a seat now. The maître d’ just notified me that the waiters should be coming around shortly to get everyone’s orders.”

Without waiting for a response from either, Joan turned on her heels, her voice echoing throughout the room as she repeated her announcement to the rest of the guests.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “I swear if that woman dyed her hair anymore blonde than it is, she could beat out the sun in its blinding effects.”

Emily pulled in a deep breath, shaking her head.

Cupping Emily’s cheeks between her hands, Lisa leaned into her ear. “I love you, little sis. I wish I could help you through this. The only advice I can offer is to go with what your heart’s telling you.” Emily stared into her eyes, reflections of their mother swirling around her head. “It doesn’t matter that tomorrow’s the big day. You could postpone it until you figure all of this out with Gavin. The important thing here is that tomorrow represents the rest of your life. You need to know that you’re spending it with the correct man. Don’t feel stuck in a box. You know Michael and I will help you in whatever way is needed, right?”

Grabbing for her sister’s hand, Emily nodded and started making her way through the crowd. With every step she took, the sound of a clock’s pendulum swaying in her head reverberated through her ears.

Time was running out.

Tick…

Dillon’s words to her a few hours before she took him back:

“Do you remember what your mother told us before she died, Emily? She told us to take care of one another. She told us to stick through whatever uphill battles life throws at us and to never give up on our relationship.”

Tock…
.

Gavin’s searing pleas to her in the rain.

“You don’t hate me. You love me. And, Jesus Christ, Emily, I love you with everything inside of me, with everything I am, with everything I’ll ever be.”

Palms sweaty and body shaking, Emily took another few steps across the room.

Tick-tock…

Trying to fight back tears, Dillon’s voice kept pounding inside her thoughts:

“Let me fix it. I can fix it and make us better again. I can bring us back to where we used to be.”

Tick-tock…tick-tock…

“Leave with me right now. Don’t do this. Don’t marry him. We’ll tell him together. I told you I wouldn’t let you do it alone. Gina means nothing to me anymore. I shouldn’t have let her in, but for fuck’s sake, I didn’t do anything with her.”

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…

Feeling completely torn, it was all Emily could do to make it to her chair without passing out. Letting go of Lisa’s hand, she sank into her seat at the head of the table, her eyes following Gavin as he moved across the room. He positioned himself just diagonally from her, their view of one another as unobstructed as a full moon on a clear night. Draping an arm across Trevor’s chair next to him, Gavin tipped his bottle of beer in Emily’s direction with a lazy smile on his lips.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Emily tore her attention from him when Dillon sat down next to her. As he leaned over to kiss her, her eyes flew back to Gavin’s, and if she wasn’t mistaken, she could see his jaw tense. Swallowing hard, she quickly pulled away from him.

“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Dillon asked, his tone showing annoyance.

She cleared her throat. “Nothing. I told you I wasn’t feeling well. That’s all.”

“I hope that by tomorrow you’ll snap out of whatever’s going on with you,” he said, pulling his seat up to the table. “And something tells me you’re fucking lying about not feeling well.”

Emily’s body rippled with an involuntary shudder at the thought that he could see right through her. Not saying a word, she reached across the table for her glass of water. Nervously sipping it, she tried to coax her racing thoughts down. One of the waiters circling the room approached to take their orders, offering temporary reprieve from the conversation. She needed a strong drink desperately, but considering Dillon told her he hadn’t drank since he’d returned from Florida, she decided to forgo it. Trying to keep her eyes from roaming to Gavin’s, she kept her head downcast, staring at her twisting hands in her lap.

“So,” Dillon’s cousin, Peter, called out to him from across the table, “one would assume that you and the Mrs. are going to start working on making some babies tomorrow night after the wedding.”

Emily’s head snapped up, her eyes darting to Gavin.

Gazing at her, a tight smirk curled Gavin’s lips. “They should have bucketloads of babies—and a green minivan, too.”

Emily’s mouth hung ajar as she watched him casually lean back in his seat. Downing the rest of his beer, he gave a shrug and exhaled a light laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

Other than those who knew what was going on between them, the room broke out into quaking hysterics.

“Let’s hope so, Gavin,” Henry chuckled. “Joan and I want us some grandbabies as soon as possible. If they could fill a green minivan with little ones, then that would just make us all the happier.”

“Well, I don’t know about making babies just yet, but I know we’ll have fun practicing.” Dillon replied, tossing his arm around Emily’s shoulder. Smiling weakly, she smoothed her hand down her neck, the perspiration on her body mounting by the second. “And the green minivan’s not happening.”

“Okay, enough talk about green minivans,” Joan laughed. “Peter, since you’re the best man, I’m sure you’ve prepared some sort of speech for the evening.”

“Actually, Aunt Joan, I didn’t,” he replied, motioning one of the waiters over. “Just the one I’ve expertly prepared on index cards for tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, Peter.” She leaned her elbows on the table, folding her hands under her chin. “You don’t need the index cards. Just get up and say something to our bride and groom.”

“I’d be happy to make a speech for our wonderful bride and groom,” Gavin chimed in, flicking his icy blue eyes to Emily.

Emily stared at him, her heart nearly stopping.

“Nah, you don’t want to make a speech, Gavin,” Trevor interjected, the nervousness in his voice clearly showing he was trying to salvage the situation. “You’ve never been good at them to begin with.”

Rising from his seat, Gavin swayed slightly. He looked to Joan. “I took public speaking courses in college, so Trevor has no fucking idea what he’s talking about. I’m pretty good at this shit.”

“Killer save, Blake,” Peter laughed. “I’m horrible at them, index cards or not.”

“Okay, Gavin. Work your magic,” Joan trilled, a beaming smile playing on her lips.

Sitting next to her, Olivia reached for Emily’s hand and whispered, “Holy… mother… fucking… shit.”

Emily quickly looked to Trevor, her eyes pleading. He shook his head and shrugged.

Pivoting, Gavin turned to face Emily and Dillon, his eyes immediately locking on hers. Trying to suppress her trembling body, she felt nearly on the verge of crying as she watched him reach for his beer.

“Mmm, what to say, what to say,” Gavin whispered, staring at Emily. He planted his feet and leaned up against the wall, his head lolling slightly. “Well, let’s start with the truth. That’s a good idea, right?” he questioned, his voice louder. He looked around for a second at the abundance of smiling faces watching him. Pushing himself off the wall, he brought his gaze back to Emily’s. “I was taught telling the truth was always a good thing…and the truth for me is that if I say I wish you and Dillon the best of luck…I’d be lying…because I fucking don’t.”

The smiling faces that had been plentiful dropped. Right after Joan let out a gasp, a thick silence descended throughout the room. Heart pounding and breathing shallow, Emily stared at Gavin, the pain in his eyes searing through every limb in her body. Feeling Dillon’s hand clench her shoulder slightly, Emily turned toward him, finding his eyes narrowed like a snake on Gavin.

Trevor cleared his throat and rose from his chair. “See, it’s apparent alcohol is making the speech for Gavin right now,” he nervously laughed. “Told ya he was never good at these things.”

“Sit down, Trevor,” Gavin mumbled, his eyes never leaving Emily’s.

“Really, man,” Trevor started. “I think—”

“Sit…down…Trevor,” he slowly repeated.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Trevor hesitantly took his seat again.

After a few moments of intently staring at her, Gavin’s gaze moved across the room. “Really, people, it was a joke—a simple fucking joke. Of course I wish them luck. How could I not, right? Such a wonderful couple who’s going to make bucketloads of babies,” he chuckled, crossing his arms. “Maybe they’ll make those babies in the back of a green minivan.”

“Gavin,” Henry politely spoke up. “Son, you might want to wrap this up. Dinner should be out soon.”

“Yeah, wrap it the fuck up,” Dillon said, his cold, steady voice reaching across the room. Clenching Emily’s shoulder harder, his forehead wrinkled. “Now, Blake.”

Emily’s lips quivered. The room suddenly felt small as if the building was crashing in around her. With her heart stuttering in her chest, she looked to Gavin. His mouth turned up one of the saddest, sweetest smiles she’d ever seen.

Raising his beer in the air, Gavin fiercely rubbed a palm over his face. “Right, right, wrap it up. Okay,” he said, looking around the room. “Everyone raise your glasses for the lovely bride and groom.”

With uncomfortable tension churning in the air, friends and family slowly reached for their drinks.

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.”