“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.

“Donna,” Joan said to the bridal consultant, “I can take it from here.”

The middle-aged woman looked to Emily.

“I’m fine, Donna,” Emily smiled.” Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Cooper. Just let me know if you need anything,” she replied and then exited the room.

“Oh, Emily, you’re really not considering that A-line, are you?” Joan asked with a sigh. “It’s so bland. Besides, you have a petite hourglass frame fit more for this Elie Saab,” she said, holding up a gown that Emily believed she would lose her lunch all over.

Olivia let out a melodramatic laugh. “Is this a joke? I wouldn’t allow her to be caught dead in that thing—let alone walk down the aisle if it’s with your son or not. She’ll look like a damn cockatoo.”

Turning around, Joan sent her a venomous glare. “You’ve never been one to hold your tongue very well, have you, Olivia?”

Olivia smiled but no hint of humor was evident in her voice. “Shocker.”

“Joan,” Emily said, reaching for the dress. Joan tore her glare from Olivia. “I love Elie Saab, just not this particular style.” Emily hung the mass of feathers back up and reached for a Monique Lhuillier gown she had tried on earlier. “I think this is the one I’m going with. I love the appliqué lacing and the scoop neck. The long sleeves are perfect for a winter wedding, too.”

Joan exhaled a breath. “That’s the one that made your hips look triple their size.”

With widened eyes, Emily’s mouth hung open and then snapped shut.

“Holy shit,” Olivia blurted out, her brows snapping down. “Emily, one, you’re too tiny to have hips that could ever look wide.” She shot Joan a murderous look and then turned back to Emily. “Two, I’m about to drop it like it’s hot.” She started to unclip her earrings and roll up her sleeves.

Joan’s eyes hardened.

“No,” Emily quickly interjected, rushing over to Olivia. “Just take a seat, Liv,” she said, her eyes pleading. Crossing her arms in annoyance, Olivia sank into a chair with a scowl in Joan’s direction. “Alright, I’ll try it on, but don’t you have to leave soon?”

Joan’s eyes flicked down to her watch as she inhaled sharply. “Jesus, I do,” she clipped as she grabbed for her purse. “Okay, so you’ll try on the Elie Saab then. I also showed Donna a trumpet style that would look just fabulous on you. Make sure you have her bring that one in.”

Nodding, Emily plastered a smile on her face.

“Excellent. I’ll call you later then,” Joan said. She set off at a brisk pace toward the door as she and Olivia traded vicious stares.

Olivia shot up from the chair. “You’re seriously not—”

“Trying that horrible thing on?” Emily interrupted with a laugh. Olivia started to laugh right along with her. “Forget about you not allowing me to be caught dead in it. I wouldn’t allow myself to be caught dead in it.”

Emily changed back into her pair of jeans, off-the-shoulder black sweater, and a pair of black Converse sneakers. She plucked her purse from the chair and made her way to the front desk. She notified Donna that the Monique Lhuillier gown was the one she was going with and handed the receptionist Dillon’s credit card to satisfy the down payment. After discussing and scheduling appointments for another few fittings for Emily, they also arranged for the boutique to take care of the Maid of Honor dress fitting for Emily’s sister since she lived out of state. Feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, Emily was more than happy to get out of there.

“I’m starved,” Olivia said as they rocked out of the boutique and into the cool city air. “There’s a funky sushi bar not too far from here that serves up some pretty decent rolls. Wanna check it out?”

“I’m game.”

A few city blocks later, they approached the sushi restaurant. Before entering, Emily stopped and started digging in her purse.

With her hand on the door, Olivia asked, “What are you doing?”

Effectively ignoring her, Emily continued her endeavor.

“Hello, Emily, what are you doing?” Olivia repeated.

“I have a killer headache. I’m looking for a bottle of Advil that I know I have in here,” she replied, her hands working frantically through the mess of credit card receipts, sunglasses, and an overstuffed makeup bag.

With a smile, Emily found it and let out a sigh of relief. She headed toward the entrance and watched as Olivia’s face morphed into noticeable shock.

Emily cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong?” she asked, placing her hand on Olivia’s shoulder.

“Umm, turn around, Em.”

With furrowed brows, she gave Olivia a questioning look and whipped around.

Oh God…

After the air whooshed from her lungs, her eyes took in Gavin’s BMW double-parked in front of the restaurant. Colton was in the driver’s seat shaking his head as Gavin not so gracefully stumbled out from the passenger side.

“I’ll go get us a table,” Olivia said.

“No, wait,” she hastily whispered, instant sweat beading on her forehead even in the crisp air. “Don’t you dare leave me here.”

Olivia narrowed her brown eyes on her but kept her tone even. “You have to talk to him, friend.” Without a backward glance, she opened the door and disappeared into the restaurant.

With her heart racing, Emily tried to compose herself as he approached. “You’re drunk,” she breathed, noticing the way he was swaying side to side.

Tossing his hand through his unruly black hair, a grin tipped the corner of his lips. “And you’re simply exquisite.”

The drowsy cadence of his liquored voice nearly left her in ashes in the middle of Manhattan. Still trying to regain her bearings, she stared at him, her breath hitching in the back of her throat. As disheveled as he looked standing in front of her—his suit jacket off, tie loosened around his neck, and his sleeves rolled up haphazardly—she had never known a man to be as breathtaking in every possible way as he was. Not just physically either—because Lord knows she found him to be the sexiest man on the planet—it was beyond that. His very presence manifested itself into a thrum beneath her skin.

Slow and unsteady, he inched toward her. “You’re exquisite…and engaged now,” he said softly, reaching for her left hand. He lifted it and studied the ring on her finger. Although she wanted to, she didn’t pull away. Essentially frozen by his touch, she couldn’t move. “Mmm, with as much money as I have, I don’t think I would’ve gotten you something so gaudy looking—not for a beautiful hand like this. It deserves much better. I would’ve aimed for something more elegant.”