Emily lifted her eyes from digging through her purse for lipstick. Brows furrowed, she tilted her head, confused. “No. What happened?”
“Gavin’s pissed because he never told him what Dillon did to you.”
Emily sighed. “I told him that was my fault for not saying anything. I’ll talk to him again.”
“I hope so.” Fallon tossed the mascara back into her clutch. She fluffed her hair, its fiery crimson vibrant under the overhead lights. “He shouldn’t catch shit for something you should’ve told Gavin to begin with. You need to make this right.”
Emily jerked her head back. “I know he shouldn’t, Fallon. I just told you I explained to Gavin it was my fault. I also told him Trevor made me promise to tell him if we got back together and I didn’t. What do you want me to say? I’m going to talk to him about it again, okay?”
Fallon blew out a noisy breath and nodded. “All right. I’m sorry. I came off snotty, but I love Trevor, and he’s pretty upset right now.”
“Trevor’s always upset about something,” Olivia blurted, swinging open the stall. Untangling a necklace that appeared to be growing from her hair, she rolled her eyes and yanked it out. Her expression twisted in pain for a moment before she smiled. “Thank God. That thing was fucking killing me. Don’t ask how it got in my hair, either. I think it happened when I bent over to wipe myself. Oh, and I’m pretty sure I peed on my heels.”
With her arms crossed, Fallon leaned against the sink. “Trevor’s not always upset, Liv.”
“Pfft. To hell he’s not,” Olivia scoffed and started washing her hands. “He’s a bitch on wheels. Even my father says I was supposed to be the boy in the family. If he didn’t have a dick, I’d call him a pussy.”
Emily covered her face, trying to stifle a laugh.
A slow smile curled Fallon’s lips. “Well, I can guarantee you he has a dick and he knows how to use it.”
Olivia dried her hands with a paper towel. Once finished, she balled it up and chucked it at Fallon’s forehead, hitting her target dead on. Olivia snorted. “And I can guarantee you if he doesn’t bag all two inches of it, you’ll wind up with a little bun in the oven just like our friend here, except yours won’t be as cute and it’ll bitch just like his father. Wa-wa.”
Sighing, Emily rolled her eyes. “Enough with the pregnancy jokes, Liv.”
Olivia shrugged. “Well, it’s the truth. Your kid would definitely be cuter.” Pausing, Olivia pressed her lips in a hard line, her eyes squinting. “Wait. I take that back. If it’s Douchelord’s spawn, you’re in trouble. That’d be one ugly baby.”
While Fallon’s mouth dropped open, Emily’s parted in a gasp. “Olivia! How could you say that?”
“Emily, I speak the truth. Especially while I’m drunk. You’re golden if it’s Gavin’s, but if Dumbledick’s the baby daddy, I would look into giving it up for adoption. This whole ordeal’s already a clash of Maury Povich meets Jerry Springer for an all-out battle of ‘who’s got the most drama going on.’ Seriously, I love you. But honestly, I shudder thinking about what it’ll look like.”
Emily yanked her purse from the counter and zipped past Olivia.
Olivia grabbed her arm. “Wait! Emily, I’m sorry. In Deputy Dillhole’s defense, and you know I never defend him, I still think it’s wrong you and Gavin aren’t telling him about the pregnancy until you find out whose baby it is. It’s no secret I’m not his fan, but he could be the father. In the long run, if you don’t tell him and he is, it can look bad for you.”
Emily pulled in a slow, deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves. “You know what, Olivia? You’re drunk. In the last thirty seconds, you’ve called my child a spawn, told me it’s going to be ugly, and suggested adoption. You’re also giving your unwanted opinion as to how Gavin and I should handle telling or not telling Dillon. If you weren’t so trashed, you’d remember Gavin’s reasons for not wanting to tell him. You’d also remember my reasons for agreeing with him. Now if you’ll excuse me, friend, I’m leaving. You can go ahead and call me tomorrow after you’ve woken up with your nasty hangover.”
Emily exited the restroom feeling hurt, confused, and also burned on what was supposed to be an exciting night out with close friends. Change, in many wicked shapes and forms, was becoming the norm. Emily only hoped it wouldn’t tear her or Gavin away from people they cared for.
People she hoped still cared for them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
With the New York Times in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, Gavin’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted when the doorbell chimed through the air. He placed the water on the end table, stood from the couch, and glanced at his watch. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he was pretty sure Emily wasn’t either. When he opened the door to see Trevor standing in the hall, he was shocked.
“Hey, bro.” Trevor rushed a hand through his hair. “Can you talk for a few?”
Gavin gave a halfhearted shrug, turning toward the kitchen. He heard Trevor close the door and took a seat at the island.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Trevor rounded the island and cleared his throat. “Is this a bad time? You look like you’re about to leave.”
“Emily and I are driving up to my parents’ house for dinner.” He answered with stiff coldness he wasn’t about to hide.
“Oh.” Trevor paused and looked around. Puffing out a heavy breath, he brought his eyes back to Gavin, his unease tangible. “Let them know I said hello.”