Grayson and I went to the airport the next morning to pick up Clay, who did not have the privileges of a private jet or a private driver. So we stood in the terminal, hoping that Clay would easily find us.
"Does he look like you?" I asked, peering at the crowds of people.
"Think blonde me with a glint of stupidity in his eyes," Grayson laughed.
"You guys talking about me?" a voice behind us asked. I turned, stunned to see a man that fit that description exactly.
Clay was a few inches shorter than his brother, with shaggy blonde hair that was on the verge of hanging in his eyes, which were indeed quite mischievous and quite blue. He wore jeans and a red t-shirt, along with flashy red basketball sneakers. He was wheeling a dark green suitcase that was coated in stickers from all around the world.
"Hey man, it's good to see you," Grayson said, giving him a hug.
"Good to see you too, Gray. Who's the hot chick?" Clay asked. Now I understood the glint of stupidity.
"That's my wife, you idiot," Grayson scowled. "This is Jackie. Jackie, this is my egghead of a brother, Clay."
"Charmed." Clay gave me an over-exaggerated bow, his hair coming dangerously close to brushing the tops of his shoes. His flirtatious smile did not help my opinion of him, either. "Although I'm surprised you actually got married, Grayson. How ever did she manage to seduce you?"
"Maybe, and this might shock you, Clay, we actually like each other," his older brother retorted.
"Mmm, nope, that's not it," Clay mused. "How'd you two meet?"
So Grayson launched into the Barcelona story, which Clay immediately dismissed. "C'mon, that's ridiculous. Everyone here knows that's a load of crap. What's the real stuff?"
I gave Grayson a pointed look, which he shook his head at. "He'll dig it up eventually, Jackie, might as well tell him."
"You have to be the one to tell him," I said, embarrassed.
Grayson did so, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Once he was done, Clay began cackling uncontrollably, bending over and holding his stomach.
"Seriously? This is Grayson? The responsible, perfect older brother poised to take over the Answell family legacy?" Clay wheezed, clutching his stomach.
"Okay, it's not that funny," Grayson interrupted, mildly irritated.
Clay tried to straighten out his face. "No, I guess it's not funny. It's not absolutely hilarious that you traveled to the states, married a girl that same day, hooked up with her, then instantly forgot all of it."
"I didn't forget I was in the states!" Grayson said defensively, sounding weak.
"Oh, thank goodness, I'm glad you remembered what country you were in," Clay snickered.
Grayson sighed and turned to me. "I apologize for his moronic behavior."
"Chill, bro, she loves my moronic behavior. She can't get enough of it," Clay said, casually resting his elbow on my shoulder. I merely stepped away, making him stumble.
"That's not the case," I was quick to assure him.
He winked at me. "You'll be quick to warm up to me, love."
"I'm the only one that can call her love," Grayson snapped.
Clay held up his hands apologetically. "Geez, getting married sure has changed you. What happened to the Grayson Answell that put peanut butter on the inside of mom's heels?"
"He grew up. And Jackie is my wife, if you wouldn't mind showing her some respect," Grayson said, his eyes narrowed.
"Okay, okay, sorry. So what else is new around here?" Clay asked, wheeling his suitcase along beside him.
"The usual. Mom is loving wedding planning. Gracelynn is engaged to that Lord guy. Father is expected back in town soon," Grayson said, slipping his hand into mine. The gesture surprised me, but even more so how natural it felt. With Clay third wheeling, we could've passed for a casual group of friends at the airport. Point is, Grayson didn't need to show off extra affection, even though we were in the midst of huge crowds.
"Ah, yes, dad, the only human being who can keep Laura in check and also the human being gone the most," Clay sighed wistfully. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by his first-name-use for his mother, but it still felt weird. But he had his reasons, and I suspected they were pretty good ones.
"She suggested we have a guys day and invite Jackie," Grayson said, sounding hesitant to take Clay anywhere respectable.
Clay stopped walking and turned to his brother, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Grayson, buddy, I really, really hate to tell you this, especially after you've married her, but Jackie is not a guy."
"You dork, mom wants us–I mean you and dad to get to know her," Grayson said, blushing at his slip-up.
"Get to know her? I can arrange that right now. Jackie? Favorite style of pizza, favorite movie, and favorite way to kiss Grayson. Go," Clay rattled off.
"Just cheese, anything Marvel, and no way am I answering that," I said, scowling a little. This was more than a glint of stupidity, this was a whole dump truck's worth.
"You are so answering that. Grayson, help me out," he said cheerfully.
"Nuh-uh."
Clay scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I'm thinking either super sweet, super cute, or totally not. Open mouth, maybe."
"CLAY! I will ship you right back to wherever you came from!" Grayson yelled. "I can afford a plane ticket and I will buy you one!"
"No you won't. I'm the adorable version of you you wish you saw in the mirror," Clay teased, aiming to have a boyishly innocent grin. It was not effective on me.
"I'd smash that mirror," Grayson growled, walking a little faster and pulling me with him.
"Clay, where do you normally live?" I interrupted, not wanting either of them to kill the other before we even reached the car.
He tilted his head, apparently deciding where he resided. "Technically my address is in Montreal. But I'll spend time anywhere. A bit of Australia, a bit of Europe, a little Buenos Aires, a little of wherever the girls are hot."
Grayson buried his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Jackie."
"Joking. Kinda," Clay said with a laugh.
"He's not," Grayson warned.
"But yeah, I'm mostly still a Canadian. What about you?"
"Virginia," I replied, wondering if it was smart to even tell Clay what state I lived in.
Clay whistled. "Pretty far from Las Vegas."
"Yeah, it was a girls trip," I sighed. I'd never really gotten any time to relax on my only vacation thanks to this whole mess.
"Well I'm very thrilled to see that your girls trip so very obviously ended up a successful girls trip," he said sarcastically. "So many ladies. So many girly stories."
I gave him a look. "Grayson, I'm starting to agree with you. We should ship him back to Montreal."
"I personally think that a very bad idea," Clay chimed in. "Wouldn't want to anger Laura the warthog, would we?"
"She hasn't been that bad recently," Grayson said weakly.
I snorted. "You didn't attend the shopping trip."
His nostrils flared. "Right. Nevermind, she's still horrible."
"What, has she already made best friends with you, dear Jackie?" Clay scoffed.
My jaw tightened. "Let's just say she's a bit too eager for you to become an uncle."
"Okay, not going to lie, that sounds awesome, but not if she's the one pushing it," he admitted, then frowned. "Speaking of which, am I going to be an uncle?"
"No," I said firmly. I'd checked a thousand times–Clay's wishes wouldn't be coming true.
"Dang it. Well, let me know, so I can start buying 'Coolest uncle ever' shirts," Clay said in disappointment.
"Never," I said immediately, thinking through the logical part of our plan that we thankfully hadn't revealed to Clay. He would probably fall straight out of his socks when he heard about our divorce next year. The thought made me brighten up a bit as we got in the car.
"Clay, I'm warning you, you need to be on your best behavior from now on," Grayson said as we pulled out of the parking lot.
His brother snorted. "When am I not on my best behavior?"
"Literally all the time."
"Well, I have full intentions of avoiding my best behavior this week," Clay said, crossing his legs and stretching his arms out over the backseat. "Jackie, you're in for the week of your life."
Considering last week, I highly doubted that. But if anyone deserved a shot at giving me the most dramatic week of my life, it was Clay Answell.