Page 60 of You Complicate Me

“…and right before I, uh, you know…”

Grace pressed her hands to her stomach. Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke.

Michael looked equally miserable as he said, “I looked down at her face, her eyes met mine, and I smiled. I thought she’d smile back, but…”

“She started crying instead,” Grace murmured.

He nodded, grimacing. “And not like a few happy tears, either. We’re talking gut-wrenching, someone-just-killed-her-puppy sobs. It was awful. I didn’t know what to do. I just kind of awkwardly held her and whispered over and over again that she was going to be okay, that I was there for her. She eventually fell asleep, and when I woke up this morning she was gone. Nick told me she was in her ready room getting dressed hours ago.”

Grace shook her head, stunned. “And you’re sure you didn’t say anything to upset her? You didn’t let Grandma Ruthie talk to her or anything, did you?”

He looked offended at the mere suggestion. “Fuck, no. We purposefully avoided everyone last night. We didn’t fight or anything. It was just a conversation and sex. I didn’t do anything wrong, Grace, I swear!”

Grace rubbed her now-aching temples. Jesus. What a mess. Could Lucille have said something to upset Sadie? But as soon as the thought entered her mind, Grace dismissed it. Lucille had seemed willing to let the wedding play out if Grace wasn’t going to do her bidding and step in to stop it. She also didn’t strike Grace as the kind of person who would toy with her niece’s emotions for fun, either.

Why was it that Meredith had cried during sex with George on Grey’s Anatomy? Grace tried to remember, but the answer must have been lodged somewhere towards the back of Grace’s brain, most likely buried under various legal precedents, copious amounts of random song lyrics, and useless Star Wars trivia, because she couldn’t quite put her finger on it at the moment.

Seriously, how could she remember every word of REM’s It’s the End of the World as We Know It, but not be able to call up a major plotline from a show she’d been watching for a million seasons? Ugh. So frustrating.

With a sigh, Grace gave up trying to recall that stupid episode that probably had nothing to do with Sadie’s crying jag the previous night, anyway. “I’ll go talk to Nick, okay? We’ll see if she said anything to him.”

Michael looked so relieved that Grace’s heart hurt for him. He shoved a hand through his already-disheveled hair and offered her a weak smile. “Thanks, Gracie. I owe you for this. Big time.”

And as she was walking out the door, it hit her.

The reason Meredith cried while having sex with George was that she was really in love with Derek, but couldn’t have him. George was a placeholder, and she felt awful about it.

Oh…just…hell.

Grace turned the corner out of the groom’s ready room and face-planted with an oomph into a heavenly scented wall of man chest.

Nick put his hands on her waist to steady her. “Whoa. Sorry. I…uh…”

She smiled up at his befuddled expression. “You, uh, what?”

He stepped back and rubbed a hand over his furrowed brow before muttering, “I’ve never been turned on by anyone wearing a tux before. This is weird. Give me a second, will you?”

She couldn’t hold back a giggle as she glanced down at her crisp black tux, glaring-white dress shirt, and sky-high, black, fuck-me Manolo Blahniks. “It’s not too much? I thought it’d be appropriate since I’m the best man. My assistant had the guy who works on all my business suits in LA tailor it and overnight it. I’m pretty sure he thought I was nuts, but I think he did a good job anyway, right?”

Nick slid a finger into the collar of his own crisp white dress shirt and pulled it away from his skin like it was choking him. “You look amazing, Grace. The guy did better than good. I’m thinking I should send him a thank-you note or something.”

Before she could respond, he bent down and captured her mouth in a kiss that told her just exactly how amazing he thought she looked in her tux.

When she pulled back, eyes most likely glazed with lust, brain at least partially melted, she licked her lips and said, “Yeah…maybe I should send him a thank-you note, too. Along with a nice fruit basket or something?”

His chuckle sounded like rough sex and dirty talk, and it did naughty, naughty things to her. “Where were you rushing off to?” he asked.

Grace kneecapped her wayward hormones and refocused on the problem at hand. “Michael was worried about Sadie. I was going to check and make sure everything is okay. Have you talked to her?”

His expression turned serious enough that it effectively squashed any remaining dirty thoughts Grace might’ve had. There was definitely trouble in paradise.

“She’s, uh, not really talking,” Nick said. “She’s in her ready room, all dressed and everything, just staring into the mirror. That’s actually why I was coming to find you. Do you think you could check on her? Make sure she doesn’t need anything?”

The mother of all bad feelings washed over Grace. The Khaleesi of bad feelings. The kind of bad feeling that other bad feelings aspired to be when they grew up.

This couldn’t possibly end well.

But looking into Nick’s hopeful face, remembering Michael’s hopeful face, Grace gave the only answer she could.

---