Chapter 37 Spencer Nash

We Were So Wasted

A Week After the Wedding

I click on the email as we make breakfast the next morning. "Our video is in."

"Ahh!" she squeals. "Have you watched it?" she asks from where she's making scrambled eggs by the stove.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I just got the email."

"Show me!" She turns off the burner on the eggs and moves in beside me so we can both see the video on my phone.

I love when she moves in close to me. I love when I can smell the vanilla in her hair, the sweet scent that is starting to feel more and more like home to me.

I click the link, enter my password, and we see the video pop up. It's only three minutes long.

"Go ahead," I tell her, and she presses the play button.

Elvis's "Can't Help Falling in Love" begins, and we watch as the two of us get out of the limo, already dressed in our wedding attire.

The video cuts to me standing in Grayson's tuxedo at the altar next to Elvis as I wait for my bride to walk down the aisle, and the music lowers to the background as I'm shown raising a glass in the air and yelling, "Here comes my bride! "

I'm clearly very drunk—at least to myself, I look like I am, and by the way, I didn't know drinks were allowed in chapels, but apparently they are.

The camera moves to catch Grace as she walks down the aisle in Ava's dress, and she giggles nervously on the screen. "There's my soon-to-be hubby!"

She sets a hand on her forehead with a murmured, "Oh my God, we were so wasted," as we keep watching.

The song continues to play lower in the background so we can hear Elvis's words as well as each of us agreeing with an I do .

When Elvis tells me to kiss the bride, I dip her and plant a good one on her.

A little thrill bursts along my spine over that kiss, if I'm being honest.

It's beautiful and poetic, and then we walk with our hands clasped between us down the aisle toward the camera, both of our hands on the outside raised in the air with happiness and celebration.

The video lasts as long as the song, and then it fades out with a congratulatory message for a long and happy marriage.

I raise my brows and turn to look at her to get her reaction first. "Well?"

She shakes her head. "Apart from being totally drunk, it was nice."

"Nice?" I repeat, and I chuckle.

She giggles. "Okay, wrong word. It's a great video, and now we have proof it actually happened."

I clear my throat. "And a time stamp…if we need it."

She tilts her head. "I don't think Nana cares about the timing."

"But don't you think it's a little strange that Amelia got married the exact same day we did? Don't you think there's a chance she somehow found out about us and rushed to the altar to make sure she had a shot at this place?" I ask.

"I wouldn't put anything past her," she admits. "And I had a horrible thought yesterday, by the way, and I couldn't sleep last night thinking about it. "

It's my turn to tilt my head as I wait for her to tell me what it was.

"What if Nana can't decide so she gives us each fifty percent?"

I twist my lips. The thought hadn't occurred to me, but then this has all been such a whirlwind that I haven't had much time to think rationally about much of anything. "Do you think she'd do that?"

Her brows knit together. "She's kind of doing it with my dad and uncle," she points out.

"But they don't own fifty percent each. Maggie still retains ownership, and she's just having them run it at fifty percent each."

"Fair point. But still…I can't work every day for the rest of my life with Amelia in charge here." She sighs. "I don't know what I can do to prove it should be me."

I press my lips together, and I set my phone down as I take her into my arms. "Just be you, Gracie. Keep doing what you've always done. What's that saying? The trash takes itself out? Her true colors will show, babe. Just give her the time to show them."

"To who? Because Nana's obviously blind to those true colors if she's considering giving it to her."

I hug her a little tighter. "Or maybe she already knows it's you, and she's just giving Amelia the chance to try to step up and do the right thing."

She sighs, and I feel her relax a little into my arms. "I hope you're right."

I kiss the top of her head, and then I let her go so she can dish out the eggs as I pour us each a cup of coffee.

I hope I'm right, too.

The doorbell rings shortly before I'm about to head over for another day of analyzing financial reports with Steve, and I spot a huge vase of flowers sitting on the porch. I pick it up and bring it inside, and Grace is just finishing up the dishes.

"Oh, Spencer," she says, wiping her hands on a towel. "How sweet! "

"These aren't from me," I admit, though I'm sort of kicking myself for not thinking of sending my wife flowers.

She looks confused as I set them on the table. "Not from you? Then…who?"

I finger the card on the stick that says Grace , and I pull it off and hand it to her.

She pulls the card out and reads it aloud. "Grace, I heard you got married in Vegas, and it made me realize all I've lost. If it isn't real, give me a call. I've been thinking about us nonstop. Love, Patrick." She glances up at me.

"Patrick? Who's Patrick?" I ask.

"My ex," she says, rolling her eyes. "It's been years, but nobody knows better than my family how devastated I was when it ended. I'm over it now, for the record, and this is clearly Amelia already starting with games."

I see it the moment it happens. A fire lights up her eyes as she shakes her head. "She thinks she can win with stupid tricks like this, but she won't."

I raise both brows. "I'm right here beside you for whatever you need." I have to admit, I'm sort of interested in what my wife is going to come up with to ensure she gets what's rightfully hers.