Chapter 16 Spencer Nash

Prove It, Prove It, Prove It

The Morning After the Wedding

Fuck .

What the fuck are Grayson and Ava doing here at the café at—I glance at my watch, and oh, Jesus—at ten-fucking-thirty in the morning?

It's not as early as I thought it was, but then I spent my night in a drug-induced haze of Benadryl and tequila.

"Good morning," Grayson says as his eyes fall to Grace. "Who have we here?"

I glance at Grace. "This is Grace Newman." Is she still Newman? Or is she a Nash now? According to the certificate upstairs and the photos in my email…I think she might be a Nash if she chooses to change her name.

I blow out a breath. What the fuck have we done?

"Well, hello, Grace Newman," Grayson says. "I'm Grayson Nash, and this is Ava Maxwell, soon to be Nash."

"Nice to meet you," Grace says softly.

"Join us," Ava says, nodding toward the empty side of the booth since the two of them are sharing a side—and likely doing inappropriate things under the table since they're in a corner .

"Love to," I mutter, though nothing could be further from the truth when Grace and I need to clear our heads and figure out a plan of attack. Like, for example, whether or not we plan to tell these two what we did last night and the clothes in which we did it.

I still don't know if I had sex with her. I can't remember. What a goddamn shame if we did and the memory is just— poof —gone. She deserves more than that.

Grace scoots into the booth first so she'll be across from the woman whose wedding dress she stole, and I slide in beside her.

"Can I, uh, ask a dumb question?" Ava says before we even get a chance to look at the menu.

I glance up at her to give her the go-ahead.

"Why are you wearing a ring on your left hand?" Her eyes fall to the ring, and fuck , why didn't I think to take the goddamn thing off? Her eyes fall to Grace's hand next, and I'm sure the question on her mind is why Grace is wearing a matching one.

"Because we got married last night," I say, and Grace gasps before I lean in and bump my shoulder to hers as I offer a hearty laugh like I'm joking.

Come on, Spence. You might be hungover, but you can be quicker than this on your feet. Use your sharp-cut wide receiver skills.

"We're just wearing them so people leave us alone," I say.

Grayson narrows his eyes at me. "How, uh, did you two meet?"

"Gracie's family owns a vineyard, and the cousin of Blake Townsend works there, too. He introduced us," I say, keeping it simple.

"Well, he introduced you and Amelia," she clarifies. "That's my sister," she says to Ava and Grayson. "They dated a while, broke up, and now…" She trails off since she seems not to be certain whether we're sharing the news that we got married during the week leading up to their wedding.

In their wedding clothes.

This feels messy, and I don't do well with messy.

"And now?" Ava prompts.

"We're seeing each other," I finish. It's not a lie, exactly. She's sitting right beside me, and I can see her. It's also not the full truth, but I don't think we can tell the full truth right at this particular moment. How do you tell someone you got so blasted that you wore their wedding attire to your own impromptu wedding?

It sounds absolutely and completely ridiculous.

And at the same time, I feel like they should know. It feels wrong to keep that from them.

The server comes by to take our order, and I honestly didn't even look at the menu. I order a coffee, water, orange juice, and the first thing I see when I glance at the menu—the breakfast special, whatever the fuck that is.

I watch as everyone else at the table places their orders, too, and I realize I can't sit here lying to my brother. Maybe we don't need to tell him all the details about what went down last night—like, for example, the wedding dress topic—but I do feel like he needs to know that last night I married the woman sitting beside me.

It still seems surreal. It still seems like it's not true.

I don't know how one thing led to another, and this is where we ended up, but I do remember her proposing marriage to me yesterday as a means to an end. I'm not sure the bride and groom sitting in front of me would quite understand that since they're getting married for love.

And I do have feelings of friendship for Grace, and I think she's gorgeous, but it's not like this is going to turn into a real marriage.

I'm still very burned and hurt by the fact that her sister cheated on me. I apparently agreed to the next year, but I don't know what might come next. It's not like I can just stay married to her and eventually create a future at the vineyard where the scene of the crime occurred.

It's probably safer for me to extract myself altogether from the Newman family.

But I'm tied up in it now, that's for damn sure. For a year, anyway, since it seems that might be what I agreed to last night.

When the server ducks away to get our order started, I can't help it when the words tumble out of my mouth. "We actually did get married last night. "

Ava gasps at the same time my blushing bride does, and Grayson's eyes widen.

Nobody says a word for a few agonizingly long seconds.

"You…you what?" Grayson finally asks.

"We, uh…we got drunk on tequila, we both had an allergic reaction to mustard, and then somehow we woke up with no memory of last night, these rings on our fingers, and a marriage certificate on the dresser," I say.

Grayson stares at me as if I've grown two heads. "Uh…what?"

I shrug, and I glance at Grace. "Feels good to get that off my chest."

"Are you serious right now?" Ava asks. She sounds…incredulous.

"Serious as a W2," I confirm. I glance over at Grace. "Right, wife?"

She sighs and covers her eyes with her hands for a beat. "Yep. That's right, hubby."

"Jesus Christ, Spencer. I expected this out of Asher, but you?" my brother berates.

"It's…a lot. I know," I say. "And I'm sorry. But I promise you here and now, this takes nothing away from your wedding weekend, okay? Nobody else has to know. Nobody will find out. This is your time, and we're here celebrating you."

"Oh, come on, Spence. It's a pretty great story," Ava says, and I love that she's lighthearted and sweet and can poke fun at this. She's definitely a great match for my brother in that regard.

"If you really feel that way, then A, take your rings off, and B, you might want to make sure nobody else knows," Grayson suggests.

"Who else would know?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I have no idea, but if you can't even remember getting married last night, then you probably also can't remember what you did after that and who might've taken pictures of you."

Fuck. He's right. I didn't think about that.

I think about pulling my phone out to check. Did I take any photos? What about receipts showing where we might've gone ?

"Where did you get married?" Ava asks, and she seems to be coming around to the idea.

I, however, am not quite there just yet. I'm still trying to make it make sense in my brain, but it just…doesn't.

"Now or Never Vegas Chapel," I say, finally equipped with the answer to at least one question.

Grayson narrows his eyes at me. "How do you know that?"

"Because they sent me an email with the photos," I blurt, honesty prevailing yet again. What the fuck is with that? Keep your goddamn mouth shut, Spencer. Because we all know what's coming…

"I wanna see!" Ava practically yells as she claps her hands together.

Oh, fuck.

"No. It's…no," I say flatly.

"Oh, come on. You did it, and it's funny, and now you have this amazing story to tell," she says. "Photographic evidence, or it didn't happen."

"Oh, it happened," I say.

"Prove it," she says.

"Prove it, prove it, prove it," Grayson starts chanting as he bangs his palms on the table, drawing glances from other restaurant customers nearby, and his future wife joins him as they both laugh.

"I'm way too hungover for this," Grace says.

"So am I."

The server comes by with four cups of coffee, thankfully distracting these idiots from their chanting, but I have a feeling they're not going to let us off the hook.

And I have no idea how they're going to react when they see what we wore to our wedding.