“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.