Save the Date! (13 page)

Dixon was pacing back and forth downstairs in the living room, his hands behind his back, his head tilted downwards. Of course, it wasn't obvious that he was pacing because if it was, people would wonder why he would be so nervous at marrying someone so beautiful, so intelligent, and come up to him to question his intentions. No, Dixon was not worried about any of that. His brother had still not arrived, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that maybe he decided that he had better things to buy, better people to do, so he didn’t come at all.

Despite his worry,
Dixon Black looked absolutely amazing in his black and white suit. He looked handsome and pristine, and the people who had arrived, including Gillian – Gemma's Maid of Honor – had complimented him on his attire. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the guests with some type of drink in their hands, milling about and socializing, no doubt talk about the marriage… For a moment, Dixon actually believed he was getting married, that this was his actual engagement party, that Gemma was his actual bride.

Why was he so nervous anyway? It wasn't as though he was actually marrying Gemma.
Not even logic could not reason with his stress, and so he continued to pace around the length of the room as subtlety as he possibly could, his midnight blue eyes practically locked on the front door.

After a few more minutes, he idly wondered
where Gemma was. He had left her a couple of hours ago. How hard was it to put on a dress anyways? He was about to start rationalizing an answer in his mind – anything to keep his thoughts away from what his brother would undoubtedly say to both him and Gemma – when the door was opened by a temporarily hired butler and Carl walked in with a plaid shirt and wrinkled brown slacks. Already Dixon felt his face burn with shame and he looked away, as though he wished he could pretend Carl didn’t exist.

When he got close to Dixon, the younger brother’s nose twitched. Carl already reeked of booze, his sky blue eyes red.  Dixon didn’t think he was high, and thank God he didn’t have a prostitute hanging off his arm. All the same, Dixon couldn’t help but reach up and cup the back of his neck with his palm.

"So," Carl said, his eyes roaming around the crowd of people. Dixon didn’t think his older brother had ever been somewhere as fancy as the Harrison house.  “Where is the little bitch that’s supposed to tame my lil’ brother’s heart.”

“Will you shut your mouth,” Dixon seethed through gritted teeth, grabbing his brother’s wrist and pulling him away from the spectators. “This is my goddamn engagement party. Could you have held off the booze? And maybe found an iron?”

“Don’t change the subject, baby brother,” Carl said, waggling his index finger.  His eyes sparkled with mischief.  “Who is this girl, anyways?  And I do hear she’s a girl?”

“You talk like that about Gemma again, and I’ll” –

“You’ll what?” Carl asked through chuckles.  “Please, tell me. You’ll remind everyone here that you’re a small town hick and definitely not good enough for rich pussy? You don’t need me to bring that out in you, baby brother. You can pretend to be something else, but that’s all you are. A hick. You don’t got no education. No good background. No family ‘cept me. There’s no way a girl that comes from this” – he pointed his long fingers around the room – “would ever fall in love with you, let alone hitch herself to you for the rest of your life.” He smirked again. “Maybe you won’t tell me, and maybe I won’t figure it out right quick. But I will, baby brother. This whole thing’s a sham, and I’ll figure it out.”

Dixon released his jaw – it was throbbing due to how tightly he had clenched it.  He hated to admit it, but Carl was right. Why would a girl like Gemma fall for a guy like him?  He came from nothing, was
nothing. Maybe he had a small apartment, a job he liked, but that was it.

“You know,” Carl said, his eyes looking around for a waiter with those little weenies with toothpicks in it, “I’m surprised you even invited me, Dixon.
Didn’t think you’d have the stones to do it.” He ran his hand through his greying dark hair before looking back at his brother. “So?  Where is this little tart? Wanna see if she’s worth a wedding and shit.”

Dixon
was about to warn Carl that if he didn’t keep his mouth shut, he’d drag him out back and sock him in front of everyone when he stopped. She was a vision walking down the stairs and capturing the attention of everyone in the room. And her eyes were focused primarily on him.

Dixon.

Gemma was absolutely stunning. She was wearing a midnight blue evening dress with sleeves that went down to her elbows and were split on top so the skin of her arm would peak through. The dress had a deep V neck, but it revealed only a slight portion of her cleavage in a classy cut. It had an empire waist, cinched together by a studded barrette, and it was floor length. The dress was also completely made in silk. Her hair was slicked back into a very feminine, very formal ponytail, and she was actually wearing makeup.

“Well, I’ll be,” Carl said, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she flashed Dixon a smile and then cocked her head so she could regard his brother. "Hello," she said, hoping her voice didn't reveal how incredibly nervous she was.
It's okay Gems. Breathe, just breathe…
"I'm Gemma Harrison." She stuck out her hand to the older man but he looked at every inch of her besides her eyes. Dixon could tell she was trying not to squirm; he didn’t blame her and wished he could protect her from it. "It's such a pleasure to meet you," she added as she let her arm drop to her side.

"Where's your ring
, girlie?" Carl asked, looking pointedly at the ring finger of Gemma's left hand.

"Excuse me?" Gemma asked as politely as she could.

"Your ring," he said again. "You're engagement ring that you're supposed to be wearing now that you're engaged. Where is it?"

"Carl
," Dixon said, his voice crisp, his eyes warning.

Gemma gently placed her hand over
Dixon's forearm and squeezed in hopes that the gesture might calm him down. "It's at the jewelry store," she replied, her voice still sweet. If there was one thing she would accomplish today, she would not let Dixon's brother get the better of her. "It's being resized."

"What do you mean resized?"

"When your brother proposed," Gemma began, feeling her nerves start to tingle. She pressed her lips together, hoping to get the better of them. "He bought the most beautiful ring. The problem was, it didn't fit. He got me one size too small, so it's being resized to fit my finger."

"I'm not sure if I
’d want my fiancée running around without an engagement ring on," he said as innocently as he could, shrugging his shoulders.

"With all due respect
," Gemma murmured, her tone softer now but her eyes direct. "Your brother is not wearing an engagement ring either."

"Well of course not,"
he said before laughing, meeting Gemma's eyes for the first time. "He's the man. Men don’t have to wear their wedding rings or shit. Women are supposed to be the devoted ones, wear things that represent shit, you know

“Carl
," Dixon said again, a darker warning. "I trust Gemma."

"I'm not sure why," he
said flatly. "She's only twenty years old. And rich."

"
Carl
," Dixon said, this time his voice sharper than before. He was going to lose it on his brother in front of everyone, in front of Gemma. And the thing was, he didn’t care. Carl deserved it, for talking this way to her.

Bastard.

"What?" Carl asked, completely baffled. He threw his arms out. "It's true, isn’t it?"

Before
Dixon could respond, Carlene tapped her wine glass with the back of her spoon so the occupants of the house got quiet and regarded her with nearly all of their attention.

"If everyone would be seated," she said delightfully, "dinner will be served."

Brent Harrison sat at the head of the table, with his daughter on his left and his wife on his right.
Dixon took a seat next to Gemma, while Gillian took a seat next to Carlene. Carl took a seat on the other side of Dixon. A man walked around in a tuxedo, offering white or red wine to those that were of age to drink.

"She can't even drink,
baby brother," Carl murmured though in a voice loud enough for people to overhear. "She's not even allowed to gamble or drink. I mean, really. Where’s the fun in that?"

"I don't drink," Gemma said, and though the same smile was still plastered onto her face, she felt her lips start to strain.

"Of course you don't," Carl said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You can't. It's not legal here."

“I don’t think you should be lecturing me about legalities
," Gemma said before she could stop herself.  Both Dixon and Carl shot their brows up in surprise, and it was easy to tell the two were related. "I mean, even if I were allowed to, I still wouldn't drink. I don't like alcohol."

“Well, well, well,” Carl said, taking a generous sip of his wine.  “You’re a lot sassier than you look, girlie.”

Gemma sighed through her nose, trying to get a grip on her senses. She knew that she shouldn't take anything that Dixon’s brother said seriously. She wasn't even really marrying Dixon, and he was probably just incredibly overprotective to the point of actual rudeness, especially if all they had had when they were growing up was each other. Still… it didn't mean that what they were saying didn't hurt. It wasn't as though she was keen on marrying Dixon anyways, but she felt… Well, she didn't quite know what she felt, and if she did feel anything, it wouldn't matter because Carl didn’t take her seriously anyways.

She glanced over to her parents and realized that they were in some kind of intimate conversation, a
nd as such, neither of them was paying attention to her crucifixion given by the Blacks. It was okay though. She could handle it, or at least she hoped she could.

"How did you two meet
anyways?" Carl asked as the waiters started serving the first course – a chopped spinach salad with candied pecans, blue cheese, and sliced apples. Raspberry vinaigrette was on the side.

"I work for her father,"
Dixon said, hoping that would be explanation enough.

“Now which fork here do I use, hmm?” Carl muttered to himself once he had been served his food.  He didn’t seem to realize no one else was eating just yet. He shot his brother a wry smile.
"It's like you want to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for the most taboos broken or something."

Dixon
clenched his jaw. "And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" he asked, arching his brow.

"Let's see," Carl
began, and started to count the ways using his fingers to emphasize his point. His fork clattered to the plate, drawing in more attention to the two. "You’re with someone who's sixteen years younger than you are. You’re with someone who comes from a completely different background than you. You date your boss's daughter. And, to top it all off, you're getting married to this woman who, by the way, you haven't told me about until we got your wedding invitation in the mail. Whatever happened to Eva?"

Gem
ma's face fell upon hearing Carl speak to Dixon about his ex-girlfriend. It was almost as though she had been slapped across the face.

"Shut up
," Dixon said through gritted teeth, casting his brother. "To be honest, Eva and I didn't work because we weren't right for each other. We were too similar when it came to emotions which I thought was fine, but it wasn't. I asked her to come to Virginia with me, but she refused. So I left. We never even told each other we loved each other throughout our entire time of being together.

"But I do love Gemma Harrison, and I feel comfortable telling her. I know that she wouldn't be your pick of a sister-in-law
because you’re so uncomfortable with our differences, but I'm the one marrying her. We complement each other, and I feel very fortunate to have her. So." He cleared his throat before continuing. "I ask that you stop embarrassing yourself right now. You don't seem to have any idea how rude you are being. But whether you like it or not, I'm marrying her." He reached down and interlocked his fingers through hers. Gemma's smile was the first genuine one she had on her face all night.

"No need to be rude,
Dixon," Carl said, taking a sip of her white wine. “Just expressing brotherly concern.”

Throu
gh the rest of dinner, Dixon's hand never left hers unless it was absolutely necessary, and when it did, it always returned to hers. They each told themselves they had to act this way in order to showcase an in-love couple, but they both reveled in it and they were comforted by the other's presence, their touch.

It was only when dessert was being served did something bad
happen, and surprisingly, it wasn't the result of Dixon’s brother whatsoever.

Gunfire abruptly erupted, causing guests to shriek and scream, take cover, anything.
Glass shattered. Food fell to the floor. Fabric ripped. Dixon couldn't see where it was coming from or who was doing the actual shooting; he was very glad his partner Harvey was there, as well as a few of the other agents. It would be easier to take initiative knowing he wasn't alone.

The first thing
Dixon did was yank Gemma down and shielded her body with his own. Surprisingly, she hadn't screamed as a couple of the other women had, but no doubt she was in shock and incapable of doing anything.

"Gemma," he
said, his voice strong and firm. He grabbed both sides of the young woman's face and forced her eyes to lock with his. "Gemma, I need you to listen to me. I need you to focus." He could easily read the fear in her eyes, but the young woman nodded nonetheless. "I need you to stay here. I'll be back."

"But."
It was the first word she had spoken since the shooting had started. It seemed so long ago, but really, it had only been five minutes. "But what about you?"

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "But I need you to stay here."

She nodded and he looked at her, trying to read her eyes. Then he dashed off to join Harvey, Brent, and a few of the other agents.

In an hour and a half, the guests of the engagement party, including
Dixon's brother, had left.  (“Your in-laws know how to throw one hell of a shindig, baby brother,” Carl had said, slapping Dixon on the back. “Thanks for the free meal and drinks. Let’s do this again.”) No one was seriously injured, just a few scratches and bruises, and after an apology given by Brent himself, they went on their way. After forty-five minutes of shooting, Dixon and the agents found nothing leading them to any sort of suspect. The only evidence they had were the bullet casings and maybe a couple of eye witness reports. But Dixon let Harvey and Brent take care of specifics; he wanted to make sure Gemma was okay.

"I believe she went upstairs," Carlene said softly to
Dixon when she realized he was looking for her daughter.

Dixon
nodded and headed up the stairs and into her opened room. He couldn't see her, but he heard the shower running in her attached bathroom. Though he probably should have waited for her to be finished, something inside Dixon decided to press on, and so he did. He pushed the bathroom door open and found Gemma sitting on the floor of the shower, still completely dressed, letting the hot water run over her. Her hair was wet, her dress obviously ruined, but her makeup managed to stay in place. It must be waterproof.

Without a word,
Dixon walked into the shower and took a seat next to her. He had never been good at reassuring people, but he knew he wanted to let Gemma know that everything was alright.

It was she who spoke first. "No matter how hot I get the water, I'm still cold," she said in a voice just above a whisper.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, Dixon gently grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers to his lips. He slid the index fingertip to his mouth and pressed a butterfly kiss on it before moving on to the middle finger and then to the ring finger. When he finished, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him before resting his head upon hers.

"Is that better?" he asked softly, keeping a hold of her hand with his.

She nodded, still stunned but incredibly relieved that no one had gotten hurt, that Dixon was okay, that everything was okay…

But it wasn't. People coming into a house and shooting it up – that wasn't normal and that definitely wasn't okay.

"I'm scared," she admitted, though she wasn't sure if the water had drowned out her admission or not.

"I'm he
re," he said, and he would remain there with her for as long as it took.