Page 65 of You Complicate Me

Grace’s mouth opened, and she exchanged a loaded glance with Gage, but neither said anything.

“That’s it,” Michael snapped at Gage, “You’re dead.”

And with that, he threw another punch. But this time, Gage was ready for it. Gage caught Michael’s fist, yanked his arm behind him, and slammed him face-first into the wall.

“I’m telling you,” Gage hissed in Michael’s ear, “I didn’t do anything. Was I attracted to her? Hell, yes. But I’d never do anything about it. I told you already: you’re my family, idiot. The only real family I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. You’ve always been more than just my cousin, okay? You’re my brother.”

Michael stopped struggling against Gage’s hold when Gage repeated, quietly this time, “You’re my brother.”

Sarah pulled a wad of toilet paper out of her handbag and swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, that was just lovely, Gage.”

With a snort, Gage let go of Michael, who shoved off the wall and spun around to face Gage again. Everyone seemed to hold their breath while the two men faced each other down. But after a moment of intense eye contact, Michael grabbed Gage in a bear hug. As dude-like back-slapping ensued, Nick knew all was well between the cousins/brothers. He wished he could say the same for his sister.

And for him and Grace, for that matter.

“I’m glad this is all working out for you guys,” Nick began, struggling not to yell at anyone, “but my sister just left her own wedding. Alone. She was fine yesterday, so whatever made her decide to leave happened today.”

His eyes shifted back to Grace, whose spine immediately stiffened, making her look much taller than she actually was. “I don’t know how many more times I can say this, Nick, but her mind was made up when I went into that room. It wasn’t my fault. I told you I wouldn’t interfere and I didn’t.”

Sure, not directly. But she was smart enough to manipulate Sadie and Michael—and maybe even Gage—into whatever outcome she wanted. And she’d made it clear from the beginning that she wasn’t in favor of the wedding. He knew her intentions were good—she was just trying to save a couple of kids from getting married way too young—but the outcome was the same. His baby sister was devastated and alone, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to help her.

Grace had robbed him of the chance to do anything to help her.

“You believe me…don’t you?” Grace asked, sounding unsure.

He didn’t answer, but the look on his face must’ve told her exactly what she didn’t want to hear, because her uncertainty vanished as she looked up at him with loathing. “Well, if that’s how you feel, you should just go,” she bit out.

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” he said, and left, feeling Grace’s eyes on his back the whole way.

Chapter Thirty-five

The silence left in the wake of Nick’s departure was deafening. Grace wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.

“That was disgraceful.”

Grace tore her eyes off Nick’s retreating back and glanced over at Ruthie, who’d just wheeled up beside her.

I was wrong. Silence is better than this.

Hoping Michael couldn’t hear them from his place at the bar with Gage, Grace said, “There’s nothing disgraceful about Sadie leaving. She did what she had to do. It wasn’t Michael’s fault.”

Ruthie snorted. “I’m not talking about that. That girl did Michael a favor by leaving. That whole wedding would’ve been a dumpster fire. I’m talking about you and that Irishman.”

Grace barely resisted the urge to bang her head on the wall. “Sorry if you were embarrassed by—” the sight of my heart breaking right here in this very spot? My humiliation at having the man I love think that I planned to ruin his sister’s life? “—our disagreement.”

The old woman let out what sounded like a combo snort/belch, and that’s when Grace knew she’d been hitting the bar. Great. Ruthie didn’t exactly get sun-shinier with a few drinks onboard. “Why don’t I take you back to your room, Grandma? We can just—”

“I wasn’t talking about your disagreement,” she interrupted with an exasperated huff. “I meant you two idiots arguing about nothing. You’re both just too chicken shit to tell each other how you feel, so you’re wrecking everything. It’s like something out of a shitty romantic comedy with that Bollocks woman.”

“Pretty sure you mean Bullock. Sandra Bullock, Grandma,” Grace muttered.

Ruthie waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“It’s none of your business,” came a whisper from behind them.

Grace looked over her shoulder at her mother. “What was that, Mom?”

“Yes, do speak up, Sarah,” Ruthie said dryly. “I’m sure you have something invaluable to contribute.”

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