Chapter 13 Grace Newman

Is Five the Afternoon or Evening

Two Hours Before the Wedding

My third paloma slides right down, and I attacked those nachos with gusto after the allergic reaction. I don't know why I didn't think to ask if the barbecue shrimp had a mustard-based sauce. I always ask, but I guess being here in Vegas around Spencer and offering my solution to the Amelia problem distracted me.

I'm fine now. The Benadryl did the trick, though you're not supposed to mix Benadryl with alcohol. I have a feeling whatever happens tonight will be a hazy memory in the morning, so at some point, I'll cut myself off from palomas.

But they're so good. And the more you have, the better they taste.

Spencer hasn't slowed down on the tequila, though he orders us some cheeseburger sliders next.

"Well, now what?" I ask once our burgers are gone and our drinks are empty.

He shrugs. "I want to get out of here. Go somewhere. Do something." He's slurring .

"Let's go up to your room and change clothes and find a club or something." Am I slurring, too? I think I might be slurring.

"It's five in the afternoon. Clubs aren't open yet." He signals to the bartender to cash out our tab as I giggle.

"Is five the afternoon?" I ask. "Or is it technically evening?"

"I think evening starts at six."

I laugh and plant my feet on the floor to stand, and the whole room feels like it's moving around me. I shake my head to clear it, and I follow Spencer over toward the elevators.

"Oh, my luggage," I say as we stand there waiting for the doors to open.

"Where is it?"

"I checked it at guest services. I don't have a room."

"It's fine. Stay with me. I've got plenty of space."

"'K," I say.

"We can just call down there and ask them to bring up your bag."

"Sounds good," I say. We step onto the elevator, and he stares at the keypad. I can't quite discern if he's trying to focus or if he can't recall his room number, but then he makes a decision and pushes a button.

We stumble down the hall together, the tequila hitting me harder than I realized, and he fumbles with a door for a full minute before it opens. I'm standing behind him, giggling the entire time, but once the door opens, I remember something important.

There's only one bed in his room.

He invited me to stay here with him.

Are we going to share a bed?

The door closes behind me, and I step back so I'm leaning against the door. My balance feels compromised after all that tequila, and he spins to look at me.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod, and he takes a step toward me. He takes another, and another, and then there are no more steps to take as he stands mere inches from me .

He rests one of his arms on the door beside me as his gaze burns heatedly into mine.

"Wha—what are you doing?" I ask softly.

His other arm shifts as his fingertips locate my hip. He moves his body in so he's flush against me. "I was going to kiss you. Is that okay?"

My breath catches in my throat. I nod, my eyes never leaving his.

And then his mouth drops down to mine. His lips are as soft as they look as they press to mine, and all the thoughts fly directly out of my mind as I can only focus on one thing: Spencer Nash is kissing me.

Holy. Shit.

Spencer Nash is kissing me.

And then his mouth, which has formed to mine, opens, and his tongue moves against my bottom lip. He sucks on that bottom lip, and then he offers just the slightest edge of his teeth as he bites down a little. He opens his mouth a little more, and his tongue brushes mine.

I feel weak in the knees as he kisses me. I finally come to my senses enough to wrap my arms around his waist, mostly because I have to do it in order to keep from falling flat to the floor since it feels like my legs will give out at any second.

That's how much this man is currently knocking every bit of wind out of me. Well, that and the tequila.

His tongue starts to move a little faster, a little more urgently, and his hips push against mine as I feel his length hardening between us. The thought pulses a deep, needy ache between my legs. I have no idea if this is leading somewhere, or if this kiss is just a kiss, which is fine if it is. We're probably both too drunk for it to be more than that.

He pulls back abruptly, and his eyes are full of heat as they burn into mine. "Let's do it. Let's get married."

" What ?" I shriek. I mean…I came all this way for this to happen, but never did I actually believe he'd agree to it.

"Let's do it."

"But…but…I don't have a gown. You don't have a tux. We don't have a license. "

"There are places here that have all that. Or, wait—" He backs away from me and walks over to the closet. "Voila. Wedding attire."

I stare at the gown and tuxedo in the closet meant for another bride and groom.

"We'll just wear it for an hour. Long enough to tie the knot. Nobody will see," he says. "Nobody will know."

That…

That seems…

That seems like…

That seems like an excellent idea.

"Let's do it," I say with a grin.

He hands me the white garment bag and grabs one of the black ones. He reads the tag. "This says groom . Looks like that's me. You can change in the bathroom. Meet me out here, and I'll look up chapels nearby."

Oh my God. Are we really doing this?

We're really doing this.

I feel positively giddy, though that could be the alcohol talking. Who the fuck cares? I'm marrying Spencer, and I'm getting my freaking vineyard.

I fix up my makeup quickly, though my movements seem like they're a bit sluggish, and I pull just part of my hair back, leaving the rest of it loose and flowing.

I unzip the garment bag, and oh, the dress is so, so lovely. It's a satin A-line gown with an empire waist, and there's a veil hanging behind it in another bag.

I strip down to my underwear and pull the dress over my head. It fits like a glove—like it was waiting in the closet specifically for me. I stare at myself in the mirror.

Am I really doing this?

I'm really doing this.

I slip the veil into place, and I stare at myself in the mirror.

It's like it was all meant to be. The wedding garments are even here in the room just waiting to be used.

I draw in a deep breath.

This is it.

I'm about to marry my sister's ex.