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Oh, Jesus.
I scratch the back of my neck and glance at the top of the dresser, where I see a piece of paper. “Oh, fuck,” I mutter as I scan the words on the top of the page. I pick up the paper and realize my hands are trembling.
State of Nevada Marriage Certificate.
Spencer Thomas Nash. Grace Marie Newman.
“What is it?” she asks, and she walks over toward me. I hand her the certificate, and she stares at it for a few beats before her eyes move up to mine. “Is this real?”
I toss my hands up. “I have no idea. It looks like it.”
“How did this happen? And why can’t either of us remember?” Her voice is louder on the second question.
None of this is helping the hangover. I rub my temples. I can’t seem to think straight with the thundering in my head. “I don’t know.”
She walks over to the bed, sits, and sucks in a few deep breaths. “Okay. Let’s go get some coffee, and then we can try to figure it out.”
Coffee? I don’t know if I can drink coffee at a time like this, but my head is aching for a cup to try to clear the fog of last night. I suck in another deep breath as I try to keep it together.
“Okay, wife,” I say. She looks like she might throw up again. If we can’t laugh, well…I might give in to the panic clawing at me. “Too soon?”
“Way too soon. Let’s just go get that coffee.”
Chapter 2: Grace Newman
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Three and a Half Months Before the Wedding
It’s weird, right? Too weird. I can’t text Spencer Nash lamenting his team’s loss today. I don’t even know what to say, but I want to say something.
I stare at the text I drafted anyway.
Me: You’ll get them next season. That catch in the middle of the second quarter was unreal. You deserved it. [heart emoji]
I backspace on the heart emoji.
[smiley face emoji]
Backspace.
[poop emoji]
Definitely not.
[sunshine emoji]
What, like the sun will come out tomorrow? No.
I sigh, and then I delete the whole text. This is my sister’s boyfriend—fiancé—whatever—and I shouldn’t be texting him.
It doesn’t matter if my sister and I don’t get along, and it doesn’t matter that she treats him like shit. He’s in a relationship with her.
Still, we’re friends. I’m going to be his sister-in-law someday. It’s okay for us to communicate without my sister being in the middle of it, and we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over the last year or so.
With that in mind, I draft another text.
Me: You doing okay today?
