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Spencer is panicking a little, but the panic that was starting to rise in me has gone south now as I realize my big plan actually happened. I might actually get my vineyard.
He hangs up the tuxedo, and we each zip the garments we wore into their bags before we head downstairs.
The walk does me some good. The elevator is empty save for the two of us, and he glances over at me. “Let’s come up with a plan over breakfast, okay? How to make this up to Ava and Grayson, what we’re going to do next…all of it.”
I nod. “Okay.”
By the time we get to a café, I even feel like I might even be able to put down some sausage links and eggs. Or maybe whole wheat toast, plain.
We follow the hostess through the restaurant, and we both hear it. “Spencer! Over here!”
He turns and spots his brother, Grayson, sitting in a booth on the same side as a woman I assume is his bride—you know, the woman whose dress I got married in last night.
Well, I guess breakfast isn’t going to be the time we figure out what comes next.
Chapter 16: Spencer Nash
Prove It, Prove It, Prove It
The Morning After the Wedding
Fuck.
What the fuck are Grayson and Ava doing here at the café at—I glance at my watch, and oh, Jesus—at ten-fucking-thirty in the morning?
It’s not as early as I thought it was, but then I spent my night in a drug-induced haze of Benadryl and tequila.
“Good morning,” Grayson says as his eyes fall to Grace. “Who have we here?”
I glance at Grace. “This is Grace Newman.” Is she still Newman? Or is she a Nash now? According to the certificate upstairs and the photos in my email…I think she might be a Nash if she chooses to change her name.
I blow out a breath. What the fuck have we done?
“Well, hello, Grace Newman,” Grayson says. “I’m Grayson Nash, and this is Ava Maxwell, soon to be Nash.”
“Nice to meet you,” Grace says softly.
“Join us,” Ava says, nodding toward the empty side of the booth since the two of them are sharing a side—and likely doing inappropriate things under the table since they’re in a corner.
“Love to,” I mutter, though nothing could be further from the truth when Grace and I need to clear our heads and figure out a plan of attack. Like, for example, whether or not we plan to tell these two what we did last night and the clothes in which we did it.
I still don’t know if I had sex with her. I can’t remember. What a goddamn shame if we did and the memory is just—poof—gone. She deserves more than that.
Grace scoots into the booth first so she’ll be across from the woman whose wedding dress she stole, and I slide in beside her.
“Can I, uh, ask a dumb question?” Ava says before we even get a chance to look at the menu.
I glance up at her to give her the go-ahead.
“Why are you wearing a ring on your left hand?” Her eyes fall to the ring, and fuck, why didn’t I think to take the goddamn thing off? Her eyes fall to Grace’s hand next, and I’m sure the question on her mind is why Grace is wearing a matching one.
“Because we got married last night,” I say, and Grace gasps before I lean in and bump my shoulder to hers as I offer a hearty laugh like I’m joking.
Come on, Spence. You might be hungover, but you can be quicker than this on your feet. Use your sharp-cut wide receiver skills.
“We’re just wearing them so people leave us alone,” I say.
Grayson narrows his eyes at me. “How, uh, did you two meet?”
