Chapter 26 Grace Nash

What the Hell is a Postnup

Four Days After the Wedding

I thought for a split second that maybe he'd kiss me some more, but he didn't. I didn't want to go back inside and run into that asshole again, so Spencer took me back to the Palms. We settled into bed and flipped on a movie to distract my thoughts, and it helped.

I fell asleep snuggled onto his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

I'm not sure I ever want to fall asleep another way ever again.

The problem is that morning always comes quickly, and that's no different today—especially since Spencer has a tee time with the boys ahead of the wedding.

And that also means I have nothing to do until he gets back.

Once he's out the door, I take a quick shower then head down to the diner for a solo breakfast, and I think it might be time to call my dad and confess what's going on.

I've been married for four days now, and he, my mom, and Nana don't even know.

Or maybe they do.

Maybe we've made the news by now. Part of me thinks we'd have to given Spencer's status in the media, but it's his brother's wedding weekend, so maybe the paparazzi is focused on the wrong brother—which would be pure luck for us since I haven't found the right moment to call my family.

Maybe I don't want them to know. Maybe I don't want Amelia to know.

I could tell my dad and not risk Amelia finding out. Nana might be a different story, though.

It's as I'm sitting at my solo breakfast that I finally dial Dad's number.

"Hey, pumpkin," he answers. "When are you coming home? This place is falling apart without you."

I chuckle. "Hey, Dad. I have a flight back tomorrow night." Sadness fills me that I'm going back to Minnesota, and my husband is not.

"Thank God. How's it going out there? Did you do what you needed to do?"

I clear my throat. "In fact, I did."

"And are you ever going to clue in your clueless old man about what that was?"

"I got married," I whisper.

I'm met with silence. Stunned silence, to be exact.

"You…you what?" he asks.

"I got married."

"Oh, Gracie," he mutters. "Because of the vineyard?"

"Well…I mean, yeah. That was my motivation in coming here to present the idea. But I realized how ridiculous of a plan it was, and I knew he'd never say yes."

"He?" he asks carefully.

"Spencer."

"Jesus, Gracie. But he did say yes if you're married now," he points out.

"Well, that's where it gets a little crazy."

" That's where?" he claps in.

I clear my throat. "We were drinking tequila, and we ordered some appetizers. As it turns out, he has an allergy to mustard, too, and the sauce we ate had mustard in it. We both reacted, and we took some Benadryl, and I guess Benadryl plus tequila equals—"

"Blackout," he supplies, interrupting me.

"Yeah. The rest of the night is a total blur. But a wedding certificate in our room tells me it happened."

"Please, please, please tell me you two were lucid enough to draft up a prenup." He's begging me, and for the first time, I realize I'm heir to an asset Spencer could take from me if he was so inclined.

After the kiss we shared last night, right after he gave me the tenderest look anyone has ever looked upon me with, I can't really believe he'd have it in him to do that.

But maybe.

"No. We weren't."

He sighs heavily. "I'll get Farnsworth on a postnup, then. For both your sakes."

A postnup? What the hell is a postnup? "What's a postnup?" I ask more politely than my brain drums up the question.

"Same thing as a prenup, except it takes place after the vows. It protects you both in the event of a divorce, which I assume is imminent after a year's time, right?"

"I, uh…actually I have no idea." Initially, yes. That was the plan.

But now…it sort of feels like maybe there's a chance for us to make it beyond that.

We're compatible. I like him. I feel like maybe he likes me, too.

I take an Uber toward the Strip and do a little shopping at Caesar's Palace, and then I return to the Palms and start getting ready for the wedding.

I've just slipped my shoes on when Spencer walks through the door, and he stops short when he sees me.

"Wow," he says quietly.

He's wearing gray pants, a navy Nike polo shirt, and a visor, and he just looks so… athletic . And hot.

"How was golf?" I ask, my mouth suddenly dry. I'm nervous. I've never been nervous around him, but somehow, something changed between us last night when he knew exactly what I needed. He took care of me. He made sure I felt safe .

No one has ever made sure I felt safe before—not like that, anyway.

He held me all night, and I know it was because he was worried about me.

It was sweet. It was caring.

One might even call it loving .

His eyes are still moving up and down my length, his jaw a little slackened. "Nothing compared to coming back here and seeing you."

My cheeks burn with heat at his words.

"I, uh…I need to take a quick shower and get dressed for the wedding," he says. "How was your day?"

"Fine. I told my dad about us," I mention casually.

"Oh, shit. Will he tell Amelia?"

I shake my head. "He'll let me have those honors. He mentioned a prenup, to which I told him we hadn't been coherent enough for one. So he said something about a postnup, which I've never heard of, but he's having his lawyer draft something up."

"It's a good idea to protect us both," he says. "Your dad's just looking out for you and the family vineyard, but I swear, I won't touch it. Unless you want me to, of course. Once it's yours, it's yours."

"I feel the same way about your assets, but you're right. It's a good idea."

He sighs. "Okay. Well, I guess I'll go get in the shower now."

I twist my lips and nod as I wish I had something to say to break the sudden tension between us, but I've got nothing.

I'm tempted to peek in on him, but I don't.

We've shared a few kisses now, but I can't tell if they're the hot kind that'll take us to the next level or if they've leaned more on the friendly side. My gut tells me it's the friendly side, but my heart is starting to hope it's more than that.

He emerges from the shower and walks out in a towel, padding across the room to grab his garment bag with the tux. I'm carefully perched on the bed so as not to wrinkle anything.

I got ready way too quickly, I think, but that's par for the course for me .

He shaves and gets dressed, and when he emerges, my jaw drops as a sharp ache throbs squarely between my legs.

Good Lord, he's hot in a tux.

He's tall and lean, strong and athletic.

And somehow…he's my husband.