Page 29 of You Complicate Me

“Ex-husband,” Grace and Nick said in unison.

Sarah ignored them. “I expect that kind of behavior from Gage.” She shot a quick glare at Gage, who shrugged. “But I expect more from you, Michael.”

“Jesus, Mom,” Michael grumbled. “I don’t know what you want me to—“

“Sorry we’re late, guys,” a sweet voice interrupted.

Sadie practically floated into the room. She looked happier than Nick had ever seen her. His heart pinched at the thought of what she’d gone through—what both of them had gone through-—to get to this place in her life.

Sadie wore a scooped-neck dress in a shade of deep blue that perfectly matched her eyes, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders, looking carelessly elegant. The woman in the wheelchair she was pushing in front of her, though? She was anything but elegant.

The woman’s hair was an odd shade of pale lavender and teased into a short beehive that looked like it was held in place using every pin in the state and possibly some Elmer’s glue. If Nick had to guess, he’d say she was about 200 years old.

A man in a tattered cardigan—the kind with leather elbow patches that Nick would’ve assumed only existed in movies about college professors—wandered in behind them, staring at a Kindle as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Liquid splashed Nick’s leg as Gage dropped his glass. Nick grabbed his napkin and started mopping up the mess. Grace grabbed her napkin and began swiping at his pants. “Christ, Gage,” she said. “What’s the matter with you?”

Nick glanced up and saw exactly what was wrong with Gage. He was staring at Sadie, eyes glazed, mouth slightly agape. He was accustomed to this kind of reaction from men when they first saw Sadie, but it didn’t mean he liked it. Nick elbowed Gage sharply in the ribs. “That’s my sister,” he hissed under his breath.

Gage blinked, but kept his eyes on Sadie.

Grace reached around Nick and swatted Gage on the back of his head. “Michael’s fiancée,” she clarified sharply.

That did it. Gage gave his head a quick shake, seemingly breaking out of his Sadie-induced stupor.

Introductions were made all around, and Nick learned that the man behind the Kindle was Grace’s father, David, and the woman in the wheelchair was her grandmother and David’s mother, Ruthie Montgomery.

“O’Connor,” Ruthie grumbled, wrinkling her nose.

She looked at Grace over the top of her red-framed glasses and added, “Irish. He’ll get drunk and spend all your money.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “He has a job, Grandma. He doesn’t need my money.”

She harrumphed and gave him another once-over, then visually dismissed him. “Good-looking, too. There’s no one on earth you should trust less than a good-looking Irishman.”

Nick leaned over and whispered to Grace, “She knows I’m sitting right here and can hear her, right?”

Grace shook her head, exasperated. “She knows. She just doesn’t care.”

“You were better off with that one,” Ruthie said, gesturing to Brad.

“Thank you, Mother Montgomery,” he cooed with a smarmy smile, making Nick glance around. There has to be a toilet around here somewhere to flush this fucknut’s head in.

But Brad’s smile drooped as Ruthie added, “Better to have a faggot-y Englishman for a husband than a nothing-but-testosterone Irishman.”

“Wow,” Gage murmured. “You managed to insult gays and everyone in two countries in one sentence. That’s impressive, even for you.”

Ruthie frowned at him. “No one enjoys your sense of humor.”

“I do,” Grace said, clinking glasses with her cousin.

“It’s no wonder neither of you are married,” Ruthie grumbled.

“Grace is married, Mother,” Sarah said.

Ruthie’s upper lip twisted up into a snarl. “I’ve asked you repeatedly not to call me that, you spineless twit.”

Sarah smiled and discreetly pushed her bangs off her forehead with her middle finger. “I know,” she said sweetly.

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