Page 152 of Menace in Vegas

Gram pats my foot through the sheet. “Nah, just drink your electrolytes and stretch beforehand next time.”

I put my head in my hands and groan.

Surviving Gram on our honeymoon wasnoton my bingo card.

64

CONNOR

I’m going to kill Ford.

Choke.

Strangle.

Bury.

I can’t believe that fucker had the audacity to inflict Gram on us.

My fingers fly over my phone, rage-texting my so-called best friend.

You fucking sent Gram to Key West?

She was worried about the two of you.

This is about revenge, isn’t it?

I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Bullshit. Paybacks are a bitch, motherfucker.

I guarantee that motherfucker is irritated at all the shit in Vegas. He broods too much and never lets things go.

I shove my phone into my pocket, my jaw tight. I’m not about to let Ford’s bullshit ruin my honeymoon with Allie.

But I’m plotting my revenge.

A long game.

Something that’ll haunt him for years.

Maybe I’ll switch all the team playlist songs to Disney soundtracks.

Or tell Gram he’s ready to have kids but doesn’t know how to tell Harper.

Either way, he’ll pay.

Oh, he’ll pay.

* * *

Gram is currently rootingthrough the mini fridge like she owns the damn place.

“This pineapple juice expired two months ago,” she mutters, sniffing it. “I’ll drink it anyway.”

Allie, back in her sundress, lifts her coffee mug and gives me a look over the rim. I know that look. It’s theI told you she was ferallook.

“I don’t understand how she got past the front desk,” Allie whispers.

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