Page 179 of Exes and Oh Hell No

But he’s not remotely paying attention.

His eyes are locked on one person.

Allie.

She’s currently drunk, barefoot, and standing on a chair, belting out the lyrics to “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” into Gram’s flask like it’s a damn microphone.

Jesus.

Connor looks wrecked.

"She’s trying to kill me," he mutters, gripping his drink like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

I snort. "She’s just existing."

"Yeah," he mutters. "And I don’t like it."

I grin. "You’re in deep, Byrns."

He glares at me but doesn’t deny it.

Instead, he throws back his drink, looking miserable.

Too bad for him—Gram sees it.

Her eyes narrow on him, laser-focused.

I groan.

Because if Gram sees it?

She’s about to make it everyone’s problem.

She grabs the microphone, still sipping from her flask, and the whole room goes silent except for drunken Allie.

"Alright, everyone, shut the hell up!" she hollers.

Complete and utter silence.

Even Allie stops singing.

Daltyn sighs. "This is gonna be bad."

I hum in agreement, still sipping my champagne.

Gram grins. "As we all know, my grandson, Ford, married the love of his life.” She points to me. “Harper.”

She pauses for dramatic effect.

“Which means…” she shoots a wink at Ford. "The world’s most possessive caveman now has legal rights to carry her off whenever the hell he wants."

The entire room erupts in laughter.

All except Ford.

He cracks his knuckles, his eyes feral.

I know exactly what’s coming next.

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