“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.”
As her nails bit into the palms of her hands, those words sent a shiver from the tips of Emily’s toes straight up to the roots of her hair. Gavin generated a steady tidal wave of emotions from within her that were bigger and far more dangerous than anything she’d ever known. Confusion, hurt, pain, and feeling scared to death of him and herself just skimmed the surface of the storm brewing in her head.
It all ran through her mind in those seconds, but before the whole invasion of torment sank her right there in that room, another entered. This particular torment was swathed in a Valentino pants suit, her silk Hermès scarf swinging with every step she took in her stiletto heels.