Collide (Collide, #1)(68)
Celebrate Our Engagement
Saturday, the Twenty-Third of September
Two thousand and twelve
Six o’clock in the evening
The Diamond Room
30 West Fifty-Ninth Street
Hosted by Joan and Henry Parker
RSVP 212-981-1275 by September Fifteenth
The sound of the invitation being tapped restlessly against Gavin’s desk wasn’t the only sound that hung in the room. However, unless someone was standing close enough to him, they might not have been able to hear them. The sounds—yeah, those would be his annihilation of his heart and shallow breathing. Gavin was in no way surprised, but this was proof that she was going through with it.
Gavin heard the news a few days prior when his phone rang. Dillon’s voice had been thrilled on the other end while he announced his engagement, his words sucking the hope, along with his breath, straight out of Gavin’s lungs. During his brief conversation with Dillon, Gavin had felt like the Jekyll-and-Hyde, considering he had to act happy for them. Knowing his tone had to hold some semblance of excitement, he’d played it off better than he’d expected as he congratulated Dillon. After hanging up, it had taken every atom of self-control not to throw his phone against the wall.
It didn’t matter though; the blade was already shoved deep into his heart, mutilating it like a butcher.
Gavin was so focused on staring at the invitation that he almost didn’t notice Colton shuffle into his office. Lifting his head from the torturous announcement, Gavin peered at him. Colton was aware of what was going on and wore an expression of concern. Gavin knew what he was going to say, and for f*ck’s sake, he didn’t want to hear it right then.
“It is what it is, little man. You need to get her—”
“Shut the f*ck up, Colton,” he hissed. “You have no idea what’s going on in my head right now.”
The shock on Colton’s face was palpable as his brows dipped low over his green eyes. “Then go after her, Gavin. When you want something this badly, you don’t just give up. You fight and fight until you absolutely can’t fight anymore. It’s in the Blake bloodline, so it should be easy enough for you. Besides, I’ve never known a more stubborn little bastard in my entire life.”
Gavin almost choked on a bitter laugh, but he briefly found himself pondering his brother’s suggestion. He knew he could barge into Emily’s life and try to break down her defenses. The thought of holding her captive in his apartment, in his arms, in his bed until she cracked and swore to be his became more appealing to him with each passing second. He could see somewhere behind her eyes that she was hiding feelings for him, and he understood her fear of not wanting to unleash them. The risk was huge on both their parts. After confessing their need to be together, the scrutiny of what they would have to suffer from the opinions of others would be hard for them, but they could endure it together.
However, in this situation, what was the use of going after her? The thought that he might bide his time with her and possibly—no, definitely—fall in love with her only to have her decide she didn’t want to be with him seared at his heart. He’d be shit-all stupid to consider it. But, God, he couldn’t do anything else but close his eyes and think of her. The surge of helplessness to do something consumed him.
“Have you lost your f*cking mind? Fight for her? She’s marrying him.”
“You’re asking me if I’ve lost my mind?” Colton questioned incredulously. Taking a seat across from Gavin, he cocked his head to the side. “Brother, not only have you decided on attending this engagement party, you’ve also accepted Dillon’s request to be one of his groomsmen. Who’s the one that’s lost their mind here?”
“How the f*ck am I supposed to decline?” Gavin groaned. “Remember, I need to act somewhat normal around him.”
He shrugged. “Tell them you’re sick.”
Gavin emitted a humorless laugh. “Believe me, I just might book a trip out of the country at this point.” Rising from his chair, he grabbed for his suit jacket and shrugged into it. “I need a f*cking drink.”
“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 f*cking 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.