“High quality paper. Someone’s got money,” Bart commented.
“How’d you know?” It never ceased to amaze Aberlour how much Bart could ascertain from his surroundings despite his blindness.
“I can tell by the sound when you touched it,” he shrugged. “Thick and soft, with a high cotton content.”
Aberlour hummed and ran his thumb under the folded edge, splitting the seal quickly.
There was a single white card inside. It was embossed with gold and Aberlour read it before he could think better of it.
Ms. Abigail Dudson & Mr. Oliver Darling cordially invite you to attend their engagement party on October 15, 2016, at 6:00 p.m., at the Whiplash Lounge in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
“Well?” Bart asked impatiently.
Aberlour looked up, having momentarily forgotten that he was not alone. That the outside world still existed—even if his had just come to a screeching halt.
“An invitation to an engagement party,” Aberlour replied tersely, doing his very best to swallow down his anger.
“It smells like roses,” Bart said, wrinkling his nose like he disapproved.
Aberlour brought the letter up to his nose, and took a quiet whiff, shocked to find that itdidin fact smell like fucking roses.
“Are you going to go?”
“No,” Aberlour said, shaking his head. He looked down at it and began to read the fine print at the bottom of the card about RSVPs, the event location, and reserved parking.
“Could be fun. I could go as your date, and cause a real scene,” Bart suggested with a chuckle.
Aberlour entertained the thought for a single moment. It would cause a scene, and Oliver would most likely stare daggers at him the entire time. If only to have the chance to see his reaction, Aberlour considered attending. In the end, he shook his head.
“Not my kind of crowd. I’m not going,” he said with a determined shake of his head.
Bart gave a deep sigh like he found Aberlour incredibly trying. Changing the subject, he invited Abe to join him for a beer at a local bar, which Abe politely declined.
His mind lost in souvenirs and possibilities, and his hand holding onto that blasted stinking envelope, he went home instead.
He wasn’t surprised to receive the announcement. Not at all. He’d seen the ring, after all. But he was surprised to see it had taken Oliver so long to pop the question. He briefly wondered why, and because Aberlour was a masochist at heart, he let his mind ponder whether Oli might have been uncertain about proposing—maybe he had doubts. Maybe he still thought of Aberlour.
He shouldn’t have let himself wonder. He should have shut everything down, as he had everything else connected to Oli. But, dammit, it was too late. There was an itch there now in the form of a question that he needed to scratch. As a result, when he got home and saw a new voicemail notification on his phone, he wasn’t strong enough to resist listening to it.
“Hey, Gavin. I know you won’t call me back, but the courier confirmed the delivery and I figured I’d try just one more time. I’d really like to see you there. I miss you, and I could really use a beer with you. Just—” Oliver halted and sighed, the sound so achingly familiar, it felt like warm fingers at the back of his neck. “Feels like forever. Please. I’d like to see you.” There was a long pause. “Alright. See you soon, I hope.”
Then the machine clicked off. Aberlour stood there and stared at it blindly as Oli’s words came back to him with painful clarity.
I miss you.
What if—what if Oli had at least one critical doubt about this engagement. What if this was his way of reaching out to Aberlour one last time.
It shouldn’t have mattered. God only knew he’d fucked Aberlour’s life up enough. Oli didn’t need to be saved. And if he did, Aberlour sure as hell wasn’t volunteering for the job.
He wasn’t.
He wouldn’t go.
Chapter 35
October 2015
“You look like you could use a drink,” the guy behind him suggested with a smile in his voice.
