You Complicate Me

by Isabel Jordan

A few minutes later when Grace was tucking into a grilled cheese sandwich the size of her head and a ridiculously huge order of fries, a frazzled Gage showed up, staring after Sadie and Michael with a disgusted scowl on his face.

  “What the fuck is that punk doing? Sadie’s afraid of heights.”

  Nick frowned at him. “She told you that?”

  Gage shoved a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Since the thing at your aunt’s house when she was twelve, she can’t even go in elevators. She always takes the stairs.”

  “What thing?” Grace asked.

  “My aunt had a treehouse in her backyard,” Nick murmured. “It was falling apart. I told her not to go up there, but Sadie was a headstrong kid. The floorboards snapped, and she fell and broke her arm. She’s hated heights ever since.”

  She knew it went against the whole go with the flow thing, but the lawyer in Grace couldn’t help but ask, “So why didn’t she tell Michael that? I mean, he thinks she loves roller coasters, and she didn’t correct him.”

  Nick’s frown deepened. “She’s never been one to talk about her feelings. Maybe she’s trying to overcome her fear or something.”

  Grace followed Gage’s gaze to Sadie in line for the ride. The poor kid looked like she was going to puke. Michael looked totally oblivious.

  Yeah, this is a guy who’s ready for marriage.

  “Are you guys helping her out of this, or am I?” Gage growled.

  Grace shifted her eyes to Nick. A muscle in his jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Great, no help there. “It’s not your business, Gage,” she said quietly. “But…if you can find a way to help subtly, I say go for it.”

  He turned on his heel and marched his stiff shoulders and squinty, annoyed eyes right up to Michael. After a few seconds of heated conversation, Sadie gave Michael a quick kiss on the cheek and walked over to Nick, Gage hot on her heels. Michael stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and held his place in line.

  Grace smiled at Sadie as she sat down at their table and snagged a fry off Nick’s tray. “Problem?”

  Sadie smiled back. “Nope. Gage just didn’t think that roller coasters were a good idea, since we’re still recovering from food poisoning.”

  She glanced over at Gage and struggled not to roll her eyes at the lame-ass excuse he’d come up with. He gave her a sharp stare, telling her with his eyes not to contradict him.

  “I’m sure that’s true,” she eventually said, striving for her most benign tone. It was the same tone she used with clients who were just sure none of their employees would ever steal from them, that they’d know if something like that was going on.

  For the record, more often than not, they were, and they didn’t.

  As Sadie sat down and started talking to Nick, Grace caught Gage’s eye again and mouthed, “Lame.”

  He scratched the side of his nose. With his middle finger.

  Real mature, Gage. Real mature.

  Not to be…out-matured, Grace brushed her hair off her forehead with her middle finger, then one-upped him by crossing her eyes at him.

  Take that.

  Then she realized she was having a one-finger salute fight with her almost thirty-year-old cousin and suddenly didn’t feel so proud of herself anymore. For some reason, Gage always brought out her inner twelve-year-old.

  Later that evening, after Michael had ridden every ride in the park and Grace had eaten her body weight in fried yummy goodness, they all went back to the hotel. In the elevator on the way to their rooms, Nick said, “I might be willing to admit that you were on to something with my sister. I’ll talk to her.”

  Grace let out an inward sigh of relief. Outwardly, she merely nodded and said, “Whatever you think is best. No pressure.”

  She was rewarded for her easy-going response with a kiss that damn near stopped her heart.

  Hmmm. Maybe there was something to this whole “go with the flow” thing after all. Who knew?

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Dinner that night wasn’t a complete train wreck, Nick thought to himself rather happily.

  Sure, Gage and Sadie still had a disturbing amount of nearly R-rated eye contact, and Sarah still looked at Nick like she was mentally castrating him. But Brad hadn’t shown up until dessert, (“Gee, was I supposed to invite him?” Gage had said, completely devoid of sincerity. Nick had discreetly knuckle-bumped him on that one) and Ruthie had only insulted gays, the Irish, and the Catholic clergy (long story) a few times. She’d made one waiter cry, but the 35% tip Nick had given him seemed to make him feel better. (There was nothing he could do to make it up to the gays, Irish, and the clergy. They were on their own.)

  “Did you talk to Sadie?” Grace asked as they got out of the elevator to head back to their rooms.

  He nodded. “She’s just nervous about meeting all of you and wants to make a good impression. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

  She frowned up at him. “You led the witness, didn’t you?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You asked her questions, she didn’t have good answers, so you made up your own answers, and she readily agreed with you. You led her to the answer you wanted. That’s called leading the witness.”

  She was more right than he cared to admit. His talk with Sadie had been a little tense. When he’d started asking about her relationship with Michael and why she was suddenly so damned agreeable about everything, she’d gotten defensive. And when he’d asked about what was going on with her and Gage—and with the sexual tension that practically choked the air out of the room when they were together—she’d shut down on him completely.

  But he didn’t really want to admit any of that to Grace at the moment. So, instead he said, “God, you’re hot when you lawyer like that.”

  Because that was true, too. Grace was damn hot when she lawyered. And looked at him. And said his name. And breathed in his general direction.

  Her answering laugh reached right down into his pants and grabbed hold of his dick, giving it a nice, firm tug. “Yeah, that’s exactly what they teach you in law school. How to argue and be hot at the same time.”

  He was about to say something else—something terribly witty and charming, he was sure—when Grace stumbled to a stop beside him. He followed her gaze and couldn’t hold back a disgusted sigh.

  DoucheBrad.

  The little fucker was leaning against Grace’s door, waiting for her.

  Brad straightened to his full height—which still only put the top of his head to just about Nick’s shoulder, so, ha!—as they approached. He didn’t spare so much as a glance in Nick’s direction, instead giving Grace his full, bespectacled attention.

  “Grace, may I please have a moment of your time?” he intoned in that uppity British accent of his that grated on Nick’s nerves like sandpaper.

  Nick shook his head in disgust. Now the guy was all polite and respectful. Where were all those good manners when you were fucking around on Grace, doucheBrad?

  Beside him, Grace sighed. “Brad, I really don’t know what else we have to say to each other. The divorce was finalized months ago. Final means final, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Nick did a mental fist pump. Take that, doucheBrad.

  The little fucker cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up with his index finger before fixing her with a look Nick had only ever seen puppies at the pound accomplish before. “Please, Grace,” Brad said. “Only a moment. That’s all I ask.”

  Pathetic, Nick thought, unable to stop his upper lip from curling up in derision. If he thought Grace was going to fall for sad puppy-dog eyes and a half-assed, sorrowful…

  Grace let out another deep sigh and laid her hand on Nick’s arm. “Nick, can you excuse us for a just a moment?”

  Wait…what? He shook his head in disbelief. Clearly, he hadn’t heard her right. “Grace, you can’t be serious. How can you even consider giving this guy—”

  Her eyes narrowed on him ever so slightly. “Nick, I’m completely s
erious. The only thing I’m considering is having an adult conversation with a man I used to be married to. Why are you looking at me like I’ve just sprouted a third breast?”

  The third breast thing threw him off his train of thought for a minute, but he rallied as quickly as possible. “This is a guy that jerked you around. Treated you like crap. A guy that showed up here, unannounced, at a family event to try and win you back. And just like that”—he snapped his fingers—“you’re going to give him what he wants? I thought you were tougher than that.”

  “Now, see here,” Brad sputtered.

  “Shut up, Brad,” Nick and Grace hissed in unison.

  Grace’s spine stiffened as she glared up at Nick. “Having a conversation with the man doesn’t mean I forgive him for everything he did. What do you think is going to happen if I talk to him? That I’m going to fall on my back with my legs up in the air just because he utters a half-assed apology or two?”

  Nick leaned into her space with a sneer and said, “Why not? I didn’t even have to apologize to get you to wrap your legs around me in that elevator.”

  If he could’ve reversed the earth’s rotation to turn back time like Superman did in that old Christopher Reeve movie to snatch the words back, Nick would have done it. It was a horrible thing to say. And shit, he didn’t even mean it. He was just jealous and pissed off. But the words were out there now, and by the way Grace’s face completely shut down, it was way too late to call them back.

  True to form, Grace composed herself quickly, her features taking on an icy calm that made Nick way more nervous than any glare or well-deserved punch to the junk ever could. “Well, I guess there’s really no point in discussing this further if that’s what you think of me. Goodbye, Nick.”

  That very final sounding goodbye knifed him right in the heart. Moving quickly so she didn’t have time to punch him (like he so richly deserved), he slid his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her into a short, hard kiss on the mouth. “It’s goodnight, Grace. Not goodbye. We’re not done yet. Not by a longshot.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Grace stared at the empty spot in the hallway where Nick had just been, still struggling to comprehend what the hell happened.

  Everything had been going so well. Dinner had been lovely. Well, not lovely, she supposed. No one had gotten hurt, which put it at least in the top five family dinners she’d ever had. But Nick had been lovely. Kind, attentive, funny, sexy as all hell…Nick O’Connor had been a picture-perfect dinner date.

  Until he’d turned into a six-foot-something, 190-pound, Incredible Hulk of jealous dumbfuckery.

  Ugh. To insinuate that she was some kind of easily manipulated skank who’d wrap her legs around anyone who whispered a few kind words to her was beyond insulting. He was lucky she hadn’t throat-punched him. Jerk.

  But he didn’t really lie, the lawyer half of her brain argued. You did wrap your legs around him after some kind words, only a few days after meeting him.

  “Oh, shut up. No one asked you,” she muttered.

  Brad cleared his throat and fidgeted nervously with the cuffs of his white dress shirt. “But I didn’t say anything, darling.”

  Jeez, she’d forgotten for a moment that Brad was still there. Again: ugh.

  Grace pinched the bridge of her nose and held in yet another put-upon sigh. She was already regretting her decision to give Brad a few moments of her time. And not because of the fight with Nick, but because she truly didn’t care what he had to say. Any apology he could offer was years overdue at this point, and she couldn’t imagine any circumstances under which she’d consider letting him back into her life.

  Like, even if the zombie apocalypse hit and her very life depended on remarrying Brad, Grace was pretty certain she’d follow in the footsteps of Sasha on The Walking Dead and end it all. That’s how much she didn’t want another chance with Brad.

  But, she was here, and now that she’d taken a stand against Nick regarding her right to have this conversation, Grace imagined she might as well tough it out and listen to what Brad had to say. Maybe he’d do everyone a favor and go home after he’d said his peace.

  With great reluctance, Grace said, “You wanted a moment of my time and you got it, Brad. Say what you have to say, because I’m tired and ready to go to bed.”

  Brad laid a cool hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright? That was an ugly scene.”

  Grace felt her back teeth grind together and was powerless to stop it. Insincere bastard, she thought. He looked like he might pull a muscle or something trying to hold back his inner glee at having managed to run Nick off. “I’m fine, Brad. Why are you here?”

  He took a step forward. “I think it’s time that we talked, don’t you?”

  She took a step back, shaking his hand off her shoulder in the process. “Sure. But I’ve been wrong before. I mean, I would’ve thought you’d want to talk to me before you decided to start cheating on me, but…” she trailed off, shrugging.

  He did a little man-pout that was somehow pathetic and irritating all at the same time. “You’re going to make this difficult for me, aren’t you?”

  “What possible reason would I have at this point to make your life any easier?” she asked, perplexed.

  “I made a mistake with Destiny. I think you owe it to me—to us—to give our marriage another try,” Brad said, somehow managing to make the ridiculous words sound perfectly reasonable.

  But then it hit her…

  “Her name was Destiny? You cheated on me with a woman named Destiny?”

  He blinked owlishly at her, obviously unsure how to respond in a way that wouldn’t incite her to violence. But it suddenly occurred to Grace that she really wasn’t all that pissed-off any more. Sure, it stung a little that he’d thrown her away—thrown their marriage away—for a woman who probably wore acrylic heels and wrapped her legs around a pole while shaking her ass to Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me on the weekends. But after the drama of getting to the wedding and getting sick, then the fight she’d just had with Nick, it all seemed pretty silly at the moment. Insignificant.

  Maybe it was the stress of the day, or maybe she’d had too much wine with dinner, but whatever the reason, Grace laughed out loud. She laughed until she snorted. She laughed until she slumped over and had trouble catching her breath.

  Brad took a step back, looking at her like a baby bunny eyeing a hungry wolf. “Grace, I hardly think this is a laughing matter,” he muttered. “I’m lonely without you, darling. Destiny doesn’t…she doesn’t understand me. She doesn’t get me like you did.”

  Well, that put a pin in the funny, she thought sourly. He was still the same selfish bastard he always was. He missed what she gave him, he didn’t miss her. “Well, what did you think would happen when you started banging a woman half your age, Brad? She’s only nineteen! Of course she doesn’t get you,” she said, shaking her head. “All your pop culture references are old-man references to her. You might as well call her a pesky kid and yell at her to get off your lawn, Grandpa.”

  A sick puppy at the pound couldn’t have given her a more sorrowful look than the one Brad leveled on her. “I made a mistake. What I had with Destiny was purely physical. It could never be anything more than that with someone like her. I understand that now.” The sad puppy look morphed into something infinitely more bitter as he added, “Surely you understand that now as well.”

  And just like that, contrite Brad was replaced with doucheBrad. The world suddenly made sense again. “What makes you think that my attraction to Nick is purely physical?”

  He snorted. “Please. Give me some credit. He’s not your type.”

  “Why? Because he’s funny and kind and sexy? Yes, clearly that’s not my usual type,” she said, gesturing to Brad. “But I’m thinking maybe it’s time to change things up a bit.”

  Brad’s face flushed red and he began rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “So is that why you aren’t willing to give us another try?
Him? We hit a rough patch in our relationship and you take up with the first piece of trailer trash you stumble upon?”

  Only the fear that Brad would press charges kept Grace from punching him in the face. But her fingers ached with the need to do just that. She settled for poking him in the chest with her index finger hard enough that delicate-skinned Brad would bruise like a week-old peach.

  “First of all,” she began, “we didn’t hit a ‘rough patch.’ You screwed around on me and we got divorced. Second of all, I didn’t take up with trailer trash. I took up with a man who stayed up for days in a row, talking to me and holding my hair back for me while I puked. I took up with a man who makes me feel alive for the first time in years.” She leaned in and poked him again before adding, “I took up with a man who practically made me come just by kissing me.” His flinch was so intensely gratifying that she smiled at him (although it was probably more like an unfriendly baring of teeth, if she was being honest with herself). “So, no, you don’t get to compare what I have with Nick to what you had—or still have, probably—with Destiny.”

  Brad reared back as if she’d slapped him and made a show of pressing imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt while he composed himself. “Well, I can see you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to discuss this now. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

  “There’s nothing left to talk about.”

  But Brad probably hadn’t heard her, because he’d turned and stormed off as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

  With a weary sigh, Grace let herself into her room, noticing immediately that the door between her room and Nick’s was closed. Jerk, she thought. Just because she’d defended him to Brad didn’t mean she wasn’t still mad at Nick for what he’d said tonight.

  Not that it mattered, since he was obviously just as mad at her as she was at him.

  Men sucked, she decided instantly. Maybe she should have taken Nick’s suggestion to give girls a try a little more seriously after all.