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Our cooking lesson is fun, but when we go out to dinner afterward, we’re bombarded by still more photographers than before.
And then they start in on the thing that presses on my last nerve.
“We’ve all seen the Vegas wedding photos. Exactly how drunk were you to marry this chick?” The snide way he says it as if there’s something wrong with her is vile.
The photographer beside him agrees. “Yeah, man. Those chicks you’re being photographed with are way hotter.”
I walk over toward him and get in his face without touching him—never touching him since I know better than that. I’m not about to risk getting in trouble, but that doesn’t mean I can’t scare this fucker. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
“Spencer, don’t. He’s not worth it,” Grace begs behind me.
I turn toward her. “He’s not, but you are.”
I tower over this little piece of shit, and I move in close to his face again. “Get the fuck out of my face, and don’t you dare disrespect my wife. Ever.” I’m about to shove him when I think better of it, and as I turn and walk away, I’m grateful for that little voice of logic in the back of my head—even though I very nearly ignored it in favor of fucking that guy up.
He had it coming.
And what the fuck does he mean, the other women I’ve been photographed with? That stupid fake account Amelia is running?
Something tells me there’s more.
Far more.
And I intend to get to the bottom of it.
But first…we’re celebrating Grace’s birthday, and I’m sick to my stomach that she was just insulted the way she was. Whoever I’ve been pictured with doesn’t matter. Whoever it is doesn’t hold a fucking candle to Grace.
And that’s the sign that tells me I’m not just falling. I’m fucking there. All the way.
I just hope whatever Amelia is planning isn’t going to be the very thing that tears us apart.
Chapter 43: Grace Nash
Moved Meetings
A Few Weeks After the Wedding
I don’t want to go home.
I don’t want to have to face my sister when she’s the one causing all this pressure surrounding us…and I especially don’t want to face her alone.
But I do need to get back to the vineyard, so he drives me to the airport on Tuesday morning then heads toward the training facility to start working out with his teammates after a tearful goodbye. Tearful for me, anyway.
It feels like I’m saying more than just goodbye for now. There’s this tension between us that wasn’t there before our two days together in San Diego, and it’s absolutely and totally created by my sister.
I hate that he nearly got into an altercation with someone because he was trying to defend me. I hate how that man’s words made me feel like I’m not adequate to be with someone like Spencer.
I hate that I feel Amelia slipping right in between us when I had such high hopes as we started growing closer and closer. It felt like we were in a bubble when we were at the vineyard—like nothing could get to us. Maybe it was because we were so close to the enemy threat that we could manage it more easily.
She picked her moment. She waited until we were away and not paying attention, and she pounced.
All it does is make me hate her more. I thought I was at my limit, and then she started up an account called Nash is Trash. What the hell is wrong with her?
She’s trying to sabotage us, and it’s working.
I spend my flight home thinking about how I want to manage this. I refuse to play a game where I’m hurting the vineyard at the expense of hurting her, so it’s not like I can sabotage her work materials because I’d only be hurting Newlywed in the end.
I could make her look bad in front of Nana and others on the staff, but she’s pretty good at doing that all on her own.
