Chapter 21 Spencer Nash

Velour Tracksuits and Matching Drinks

The Day After the Wedding

I'm cornered by Lincoln the moment Mom leads Grace toward the bar, and he's berating me about what I've done.

Just what I wanted.

As if I haven't berated myself enough over this whole thing.

Grayson isn't here yet, and I'm sort of dreading the moment he walks in and sees me here with my date. My wife.

Except somehow, I think the surprise I have planned for the two of them will help them get over their anger. I hope.

At least my mother can see the humor in the whole thing, though it may take some time for Ava and Grayson to get there.

I glance up and see a velour-clad Asher talking to my mother and Grace, and that feels like trouble.

It's not jealousy that pinches at my nerves, exactly, but it's something a little darker than I was expecting to feel. Grace is a full five years younger than me, closer in age to Asher than to me. I can't help but worry that one day she'll wake up and think…man, this guy's old.

Especially since Asher can snag any woman he wants. It's his superpower, I guess .

He can wear stupid clothes like velour tracksuits and get away with it because of his charm. He has an easy way with people. He's outgoing like my other brothers, where I'm the quiet, reserved one.

I do okay for myself, too—obviously. Both Newman sisters wanted to marry me, even if it wasn't for love.

Okay, fine. Bad example. But sometimes the way Grace looks at me makes me think we could get there someday.

I'm sure it's my imagination.

But sometimes I look at her and think we could get there someday, too, which is absolutely insane since we're nothing more than good friends.

Only…she proposed marriage to me to get revenge on her sister and to inherit her family vineyard, and that thought will forever be cemented at the forefront of my interactions with her.

Something peeks through, though. A memory. Her lips beneath mine, soft and pillowy. It's a fever dream, maybe. If I really kissed her, I'd remember it, wouldn't I?

"Excuse me," I say to Lincoln, and then I stride across the room to slip my arm around her waist.

It feels like the natural, right thing to do, just as it feels natural and right when she leans into me a little at the feel of me beside her. The sweet scent of vanilla wafts up from her hair.

"I'm just meeting your wife," Asher says, nodding to Grace.

"Yes, Grace," I say to him.

She glances up at me, likely at my clipped tone, and then she reaches out a hand for Asher to shake. "Lovely to meet you."

"Asher," he says with a nod. "The youngest and best of the four Nash boys."

Mom elbows him in the ribs with an eye roll. "Definitely the one with the strangest fashion sense."

He glances down at his tracksuit. "It's an inside joke between Grayson and me," he admits, and thank God it's something like that rather than a genuine attempt at looking good—though I wouldn't put that past him, either.

The bartender is pouring a glass of red.

"Can you pour a second one of those?" I ask .

He nods and grabs another glass, and then he hands them over the bar. Naturally, Grace picks up one, and I pick up the other.

"Matching drinks already. How sweet," Asher says, teasing in his tone.

But between the hangover and the strangeness of today, I'm not in the mood for it.

"Fuck off," I snap at him, and Mom rolls her eyes while Grace stiffens at my side.

"Here comes the bride," Asher says, nodding toward the door.

This time, I stiffen. And then my dad starts making his way over toward us.

Jesus.

It's one hit after another.

"Eddie Nash," he says to Grace. "And you are?"

"Grace," she says softly.

"Your new daughter-in-law," Mom says pointedly.

I blow out a breath. "Can we save all that for another time? This is Grayson's weekend."

"Should've thought of that before you got drunk and took a car to a chapel," Dad points out.

So that's how it's gonna go.

Instead of responding, I turn, my arm still wrapped around Grace, and choose to walk away. I'm just not sure exactly where I'm heading. Lincoln is in one corner shooting me wary glances. Grayson is in the doorway, avoiding eye contact with me altogether while he greets his guests. And Mom, Dad, and Asher are at the bar with their quips and jokes at the ready.

I chug down the wine, suddenly sure there's not enough wine in this bar for me to get through this night unscathed.

But I guess I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.

I empty my glass, which does nothing in terms of helping me feel any differently, but at least it's taking the edge off.

"You okay?" her voice asks beside me, small and sweet.

I blow out a breath. "Would you be?"

She looks offended, like I took a shot—which I did. It's not fair to her, and she's going to have to face her family with what we've done, too. But it's different for her. She didn't betray her brother by wearing his wedding attire and taking attention from what's supposed to be his week.

"Sorry," I mutter. "You don't deserve that."

She pulls my arm from around her waist, and for a second, I feel a little lost.

But then she grabs my hand and drags me out of the room. We keep walking through the restaurant until we're out in front of it, and she pulls me a few paces away from the door. She stops and stands in front of me, and she takes my jaw between her palms so I'm forced to look into her eyes.

"Listen to me, Spencer Nash. This is you and me now, okay? I know you're struggling, but I'm putting a stop right here, right now, to you taking it out on me. I'm struggling, too, and maybe instead of being snippy with each other, we can try facing this thing head-on. Maybe you blame me, or maybe you're mad at me, but this is your family's first impression of me, and they all hate me. If you could just, I don't know…maybe try not to be such a dick to them, then maybe they can find something about me they don't hate so we can get through the next year without completely avoiding them."

I stare down into her eyes. Hers are flashing with anger and frustration, and I feel bad that I put her in that position.

"They don't hate you," I say quietly. The fact that she thinks they do tears at my chest.

"Huh?" She drops her hands from my jaw, and I grab onto her waist and haul her into me.

I'm met with an oof of surprise.

"They don't hate you," I repeat. "I told you, my mom only teases the people she likes. My dad, well, he's my dad. He doesn't know you yet, but soon enough he'll find a way to try to get something out of you. Free wine for life or something. And my brothers, they just think this is so far out of left field for me that they're being protective. Gray might be a little angry, but he'll get over it, and once Linc and Ash get to know you, they'll love you. Ash might love you too much, which is why I ran across the room the second I saw him go near you. "

"Too much?" she repeats. "Why would you care if it's too much?"

My chest tightens as the urge to kiss her pulses over me.

What the hell is that?

I've never felt that urge with her before, though I snuck a look at the wedding photos, and we definitely shared a kiss there.

And now…I can't help but want to know what it's like to kiss her again.

"Because I care. Okay?" I lower my head and brush my nose along hers, and then I drop my lips to hers for the briefest brush of a kiss.

Her eyes are wide when I pull back and look at her. "Oh, uh…okay, then," she stutters.

I can't help when my lips tip up in a small smile.

I sort of like taking her off guard. And I sort of like being taken off guard by her, too—something she did the second she took my hand and pulled me out here to confront me with my behavior and set the tone for maybe the entire basis of this marriage, sham or not.

"Should we go back in?" she asks quietly.

"Do we have to?"

She chuckles, and she pulls out of my grasp, taking my hand in hers again. "Yes, we have to."

I twist my lips in disappointment but follow her through the restaurant toward the party.

When we return, Asher's standing by the door. He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and he looks ridiculous with the wiggling eyebrows and the purple velour thing he has going on. "You feeling all relaxed after your little boink sesh?"

"Fuck off, Asher," I say to him for the second time this evening.

His response is to burst into laughter, and I just roll my eyes at him as I head toward my mom, who feels like a safe space for Grace, and take a seat to get this dinner under way.