As Emily ordered a drink, a tall muscular man around her age approached her, the smell of booze seeping clear out of his pores.
Smoothing a piece of his brown hair away from his forehead, he gave her a crooked smile. “Pretty cool party, right?”
Emily glanced at him as she accepted her beer from the bartender. “Yes, it is,” she smiled.
“So are you here with anyone, or am I just the fucking luckiest guy at this party to have stumbled upon a hot-looking single girl?”
That’s a killer pick-up line, asshole, she thought. “Sorry, I’m here with someone.”
He let out a superior huff. “Who? Cause I know everyone here. I just may have to give him a beat down.”
This is getting better by the minute. “Dillon Parker.”
The man furrowed his brows. “You’re not with Dillon Parker. He’s still with Monica Lemay.” He took a large swallow of his drink. “At least I thought he was.”
Now you have my attention, jerkoff. “Who’s Monica Lemay?”
“Do you know Gavin?”
Emily quickly nodded.
“She’s the piece of blonde-haired prime meat he was just talking with by the pool.”
This moron is definitely drunk. “No, you must be confused. The woman Gavin was just speaking with is his ex-girlfriend—not Dillon’s.”
The man adamantly shook his head. “Gavin’s never dated Monica. We grew up together; he can’t stand her.” He downed another shot before continuing. “I’ve spent many Fourth of July parties at this house,” he pointed a finger across the yard. “And I’ve witnessed Dillon and Monica stumble out of that very guesthouse many mornings after, barely dressed. They definitely fucked.”
As she stood up, dazed at what he had just revealed, Emily tried to swallow. Her throat felt like razor-sharp blades were sliding into her esophagus.
“Hey, so you wanna give me your number or what?”
Without a backward glance, Emily pushed her way through the crowd. Their screeching voices, laughter, and jovial faces were a distant blur—a complete fuzz in her mind. A thin sheen of sweat beaded over her flesh as panic set it. She made her way toward the beckoning glow of the house. Walking past the kitchen, she spotted Gavin talking with his mother. He looked in her direction as she stormed into the living room.
When Emily rounded the corner to the hall, air whooshed from her lungs as her heart imploded into a gut-wrenching burst of effervescence upon seeing Dillon with Monica. The organ suffered another devastating blow when she saw Monica snaking her arms around Dillon’s neck, drawing him into her, and then it happened—the kiss. Unable to fully comprehend what was going on, Emily cupped her hand over her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Incapable of witnessing their exchange any further, she spun herself around, her body colliding against Gavin’s chest. He caught her by the arms, flicking his eyes down to her face and then over her shoulder as they narrowed on Dillon and Monica.
“I…I…have to leave,” Emily breathed out, her voice bleeding with pain. “Please. Call me a cab,” she begged as she rapidly made her way to the front of the house and out the door.
Digging in his pocket for his keys, Gavin followed behind her. When he emerged, he found her trying to catch her breath, sitting on the stoop with her head cradled between her legs.
He walked over and knelt astride her. Placing his hand under her chin, he brought her face up to meet his. “Let me take you,” he whispered.
She shook her head vehemently. “No, your…your party…” She wiped the now flowing tears from her eyes. “You can’t just leave. Please call me a cab or have your driver take me back.”
With his hand still under her chin, he gazed into her eyes. “My driver isn’t here right now, and I’m not sending you back to the city in a cab. I’m not worried about the party; just let me take you back.”
Without saying a word, Emily swallowed, stood up, and walked toward his driveway. He directed her over to his BMW and opened the door for her. She settled herself into the seat and watched as he made his way around the car, her nerves still reeling from what she just saw.
The two-and-a-half hours back to Manhattan was quiet without a word spoken. As the sky melted into hues of orange, purple, and pink with the setting sun, Gavin searched his mind for something to say, knowing he played a role in Emily believing that Monica was his girlfriend. Her grief was so tangible that it nauseated him.
Glancing at her, he knew he had to explain.
When he pulled into a parking spot in front of her building, he closed his eyes for a beat and took a breath. “I’m sorry that I lied to you,” he whispered.
Emily slowly pulled her gaze from the passenger widow. “You think I’m mad at you for this?” Her tone was as low as his was, but the shock of his apology hung in her voice.
“How can you not be? I lied to cover for him that night. Although I didn’t know he was still…” He drew in a deep breath and paused for a second. Emily knew what he didn’t want to say. “I knew who she was; that’s why I pulled her outside. I didn’t want her to…hurt you, Emily. I’m so sorry.”
She stared into his unblinking blue eyes. “You don’t know me from a hole in the wall, Gavin,” she huffed, swiping tears away from her cheeks. “It wasn’t your responsibility to tell me the truth; it was his. So, please, don’t feel the need to apologize to me.”
Climbing out of the car, Emily stopped as her gaze slid up to the blood red and vibrant blue colors exploding like shooting stars in the sky. Pedestrians standing on the sidewalks hooted out, clapping at the display of fireworks going off throughout the city.