Where thehellis she?
She didn’t leave a note. No number. No social. No forwarding address.
Just a name I’m pretty sure isn’t real, and a ring thatdefinitelyis.
I grab my phone and start searching for Heavenleigh: Vegas, including stage names, showgirl rosters, and cabaret casts.
It takes two minutes to find Kate, and there are a fuckton of Kate’s.
It takes five to find an article that says “Heavenleigh Kate Riggs,” an up-and-coming country singer. I assume it’s her, but that first name makes no sense.
Perfect. Just perrrfect.
I stare at the empty room, the black ring box, and the bed. The memory of her in my lap, calling me trouble with that cute little smile.
Then I grab the receipt on the desk, the photo, and the marriage certificate, and stuff them in my bag.
Because I don’t know how— yet.
And I don’t know where…But I’m gonna find her.
Meanwhile, my phone buzzes nonstop.
Agent (Call #3):“Pick up, Finn. We need to talk—before TMZ does.”
TMZ (Voicemail):“Finn Callahan, did you really tie the knot in a surprise Vegas Wedding? Fans are losing it. Call us back or we’ll run with what we’ve got.”
PR Buddy:
Bro. Tell me this is fake. If not, CALL ME NOW.
She’s hot. So at least there’s that.
I toss the phone onto the hotel nightstand like it’s a contagious disease, running a hand over my face. I don’tfeelmarried.
But there is a titanium ring on my finger.
Son of a bitch.
I’m so… screwed.
Should I stay? Maybe I should lie low until I know more.
Or, get this annulled before it turns out to be a bad decision.
I look at my watch. The team’s jet leaves in less than an hour. And the guys are already buzzing about parade routes and late-night interviews back home.
I can’t disappear. Not today.
I dress in my wrinkled suit, throw on sunglasses, grab my bag, and head quietly into a hallway full of echoes and the aftereffects of tequila.
My head hurts. My mind is racing, and I have the strangest déjà vu.
It’s like I’m living someone else’s life. Only it’s mine—current time.
If only I remembered more of last night. My head is thrumming, like I ran too many miles. I need oxygen—like a tank of it.
The noise on the plane is deafening. Fuck, even my ears hurt. In fact, everything on me hurts.
