Chapter 32 Grace Nash

My Inner Nerd is Coming Out

Five Days After the Wedding

As the plane races down the runway before it lifts into the air, Spencer grabs my hand. Together we look out the tiny airplane window up here in first class as we rush past the famed skyline of hotels, and I can't believe I flew in here single and desperate five days ago, and I'm flying back to Minnesota holding my husband's hand.

I can't even think it without choking a bit.

"You okay?" he asks, and I nod as I pull myself together.

We made it through the five hard days with his family—days that didn't turn out to be so hard after all. I feel like I have a new family. I exchanged numbers with both Jolene and Ava, and even Ava laughed about the dress fiasco before we left brunch with the family this morning.

It's weird leaving a place and feeling like I'm leaving family behind. I've never had that. My entire family has always lived at the vineyard—my mom until she divorced my dad, my dad, my uncle, my sister, Nana, and Pop Pop. That's it. That's the whole family .

My mom was an only child who lost both of her parents when she was in her twenties before I was born. My dad's only sibling is my uncle, and he never had kids.

It's so strange feeling like I'm part of a family like the Nashes. Only the four brothers plus the parents were in attendance since Grayson and Ava wanted to keep it small, intimate, and a secret from the press, but there's more extended family out there—an uncle who also played in the league plus cousins.

The core family is all so close, and they're all so scattered. Well, sort of. Spencer and Missy are scattered compared to the rest who call Vegas home.

Could I call Vegas home?

It sure feels like Spencer's and my place now, but it's not—not really.

Not when I'm firmly based in Minnesota with the vineyard calling me to my future. Not when Spencer will firmly be planted in San Diego until further notice.

He hasn't specified when he plans to stop playing, but we had some chats about his career. He didn't see himself playing past thirty-five, and his thirtieth birthday looms ahead of us in less than two weeks.

Should I do something for his thirtieth? As his wife, does that fall on me now?

I know when it is because I remember once, long ago, we had a discussion about birthdays. He's turning thirty three days before I turn twenty-five.

He's a full five years and three days older than me, and if we were teenagers, that would matter. We're not, and it doesn't, though he's spoken more than once about how he often feels older than thirty given the beating his body takes on a weekly basis during the season.

There was no evidence of that beating on Saturday evening, that's for damn sure.

We haven't had the chance at round two just yet, but I have a feeling it's going to be even more powerful than round one was.

We arrived back at our hotel late the night of the wedding, and it was an early morning getting packed up and making it over to the restaurant for brunch with the Nashes. Our flight was at three, which means we land at eight, and then it's getting our baggage and the hourlong trip back home.

I'm guessing everyone will be retired to their bungalows and estates by the time we roll back into town, and that's fine. I'm not ready to face everyone with the news of our marriage just yet—and paradoxically, at the same time, I can't wait to share the news.

"You know I've never seen the inside of your bungalow?" he asks suddenly after the fasten seatbelt sign is turned off.

I think back to all the times he's been to the vineyard. He always stayed with Amelia, or we'd hang out together by the firepits or in the tasting room, but I realize he's right.

I've never seen his apartment, either—not that he has it anymore.

But I wonder what a space lived in by Spencer Nash is like.

What hangs on his walls? Is he neat or messy? Based on what I know of him and spending a few days sharing a hotel room…I'm certain he isn't messy.

Just like I'm not.

Everything has a place, and things are returned to their proper places after they're used. It's easy enough since I live alone…and even as I have the thought, I realize I will still be living alone even now that I'm married.

It's not like I can leave the vineyard and work remotely from San Diego so I can be with my husband.

It's not like this is a real marriage, either.

Though last night it felt like one.

Today it has, too.

Everything will change once my family knows the truth, though. Nobody at Newlywed will believe Spencer married me out of love when he and my sister broke up a few months ago.

But things are growing. They're progressing. I'm struck with a whole lot of hope.

"I hadn't realized," I murmur.

"What's it like?" he asks .

"My house?" I ask, and when he nods, I lift a shoulder. "A lot like Amelia's. Same floor plan, anyway. All five bungalows have the same plan. But mine is tidier."

"Yeah, she wasn't the neatest." He chuckles a little, and it has to be my imagination when I swear I hear a bit of wistfulness in his tone.

Wistful that they aren't together?

It's the first time the thought crosses my mind, and I'm sure I don't like it.

It's just jealousy rearing its ugly head.

He's not sad they're apart. That is a fact. But what we haven't really gotten into is whether he's still hurt by the way things came to an end between them.

And I'm the one who told him about the cheating. I told him the why . How can he look at me and not be reminded of those things?

It's the first time I've had that thought, and it pulses a bit of hopelessness in the pit of my stomach.

I push it away, though. His fingers are tangled between mine. He's here with me, flying home so I don't have to face my family alone. That has to mean something.

"What about your place?" I ask.

He lifts a shoulder. "I'm tidy, too. I'm renting an apartment near the stadium in San Diego. I have no idea how long I'll be there, so it doesn't make sense to buy."

"Weren't you renting here, too?"

He nods. "I lived in the same place a long time, but look how easy it was to get out when I was released. Apart from packing up all my Lego sets, of course."

My brows shoot up in surprise. "Lego sets?"

"I've been obsessed since I was a kid. Back then, I just had a few sets, but now I have…" He trails off, and I stare at him curiously. "Sorry. My inner nerd is coming out."

"I think it's cute," I admit.

"Well, I have a lot of sets."

"Which is your favorite?" I ask.

"Millennium Falcon, hands down. Seven thousand, five hundred forty-one bricks of pure joy."

I giggle as I nod. "Interesting. How long does it take you to build those seven thousand bricks?"

"In the offseason, I can do it over two days."

"Do you build when you're in season?" I ask.

"Absolutely. Yes. It's the calm before the storm each week, but my time is limited, so I usually go with smaller sets. There's just something so satisfying about creating something out of a bunch of interlocking plastic pieces." He shrugs. "It takes me out of whatever's going on in the real world and lets me focus on something else for a while."

"I get that," I murmur. More than he even realizes. "What do you need to escape from in the real world?" My voice is soft as I ask the hard question.

He twists his lips a little, but he doesn't remove his hand from where it's nestled in mine. "Getting cheated on and losing my job in the same month." He sighs. "I took apart and rebuilt the Millennium Falcon set four times when I moved to San Diego."

I squeeze his hand. I wish I could've been there with him through all that turmoil.

"But look at you now. New job in San Diego, and you're married." I glance down at the simple gold band encircling the ring finger on my left hand. I haven't removed it since I put it on, and I don't intend to.

He leans his head on my shoulder, and there's something so sweet about it. I turn and press a kiss to the top of his head, and I lean my cheek where I planted the kiss.

We stay like that for a bit, and something about sitting on a plane as he confesses secrets to me makes me feel even closer to him than we were before.

Eventually, we land. We get our luggage, and we head to my car in the long-term parking lot. I was on target when I said it'd be after nine by the time we got back to the vineyard. It's nine thirty-seven when I pull into the little space where I leave my car behind my bungalow.

Lights are on in Amelia's bungalow but not in Drew's. The estate is dark, though, and I'm certain Nana and Dad are already asleep .

I lead the way to my front door, and I flick on the light as I let Spencer in. He sets his suitcase and mine by the door as he glances around the place, taking in the simple tan couch, the brown recliner I fall asleep in most nights, and the white furniture. Bookcases line the walls around my television, and they're filled with all sorts of books—mostly spicy romance, some women's fiction, with a few self-help books and marketing titles sprinkled in, and, of course, a handful of thrillers just for fun.

But the centerpiece taking up one of the center sections of my bookshelves is what Spencer first zeroes in on. He walks over toward it to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him, and they aren't.

"Holy shit, Gracie. The Millennium Falcon?" His jaw is practically dropped to the floor as he turns toward me.

I can't help my smile. "It took me more than two days, but it's a staple in every avid Lego Master's arsenal, don't you think?"

He's frozen to his place for a beat, but then he strides over toward me. He hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me into him. "Every new discovery I make about you has me falling deeper, Newman. You know that?"

My eyes widen at his admission. I knew we were having feelings for each other, but his words are so much more than just feelings.

Still, my sassy pants are on. "It's Nash now," I correct him, and I move to my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

Damn if I'm not falling in deeper every second myself.