Page 10 of Forbidden Sins
“I smashed my phone last night. I haven’t been out for a new one yet.”
“You look like hell. What happened to you?” she asked.
“I may have lost most of the night—and today—in a Bellagio penthouse, after too many bottles of champagne to count.” Stunned silence met him in every chat window on his screen. Within the group, Gabe was the straight man to every joke, the serious one, the quiet one. The studious one. The one who avoided scandal at every turn, while his friends had all found themselves embroiled in it at one time or another. “And that’s not all.”
“What happened?” Brett asked.
Gabe grabbed the marriage license and held it up to the screen. “There’s also this.”
“What the fuck is that?” Alex asked.
“I got married.”
More stunned silence. But Alana was the first to crack, and she laughed. Soon, it was echoed by a chorus of deeper, more masculine laughs. For a moment, as he took in their glee, Gabe hated his friends.
“So, who’s the lucky lady?” Alana asked, when she caught her breath.
“Her name is Ellie,” he started, and made a show of looking at the certificate, “and it seems as if her last name is Carrington.”
“Where is she?” Rafael asked. “Whois she? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
“I’m not,” Gabe responded, his voice flat. “Andwhoandwhereare both questions I would love to have the answers to, as well. She was gone when I woke up this morning. She left her ring, and an extremely short Dear Johnletter.”
As the rest of the group seemed to digest what Gabe had told them, Rafael spoke again. “Gabe, we all think this is pretty funny, but do I have to ask if there was any sort of prenup? I’m guessing there was not.”
He shook his head. And he was certain he could hear the sharp intakes of breath from each of the corners of the city. They now understood the seriousness of the situation.”
“Can you get it annulled?” Alana asked.
“I’m going to try. With the level of intoxication, it would be grounds for annulment. I’ve looked it up, and it’ll only be a minor headache. My biggest problem is that I can’t find Ellie to serve her with it.”
“Use my PI,” Rafael told him. Gabe could see he was already on his phone to get the information. “Harrison’s the best. This Ellie, is she local?”
Instead of responding, Gabe just stared into his laptop’s camera for a moment, urging his brain to remember any details she’d told him about her life. Then it hit him. “Yeah, she just moved here. She’s a lawyer, too. But I have no idea where.”
“Jesus Christ, Gabe,” Alana said with an exasperated sigh.
“I know. I fucked up. But it shouldn’t be too hard to track her down. Rafael, send me your PI’s contact info. I’ll call him.”
“You guys swinging by the club tonight?” Alana asked them, thankfully taking the attention off him. They discussed their evening plans while Gabe thought about Ellie. He needed to find her, and not just for the annulment. But because he wanted to see her. He genuinely missed her, and the longer he went without seeing her, the quicker he reverted tostaid and serious Gabe.He liked how she made him feel, and he wondered how he could get that feeling back.You know, without the whole drunken Vegas wedding thing...
“Coming by tonight, Gabe?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve got to figure this out. See if I can find Ellie, and put it all behind me, before Burnham gets wind of it.” He hadn’t even thought about the repercussion his indiscretion would have on his career, or his staunchly conservative boss’s opinion of him. He had to end the marriage. Now.
“Well, keep us posted,” Alana told him.
“And guys, I’m really sorry about this. I’ll make it right, though. I won’t let my slipup put us at risk.”
“It’s not the first time one of us has slipped up,” Brett assured him. “It’ll all work out.”
“But I’ve got to say, I never thought it’d be you,” Alana said with a smirk.
“Yeah,” he muttered, signing off.
He closed his video chat and opened Facebook. In the search bar, he typed her name. Several Ellie Carringtons showed up, but he had no trouble finding the woman he’d married. He clicked on her profile. It was secured, so he could only see her profile picture. It was an older photo—maybe like him, she hadn’t updated her profile in a long time. He couldn’t see anything so, not knowing what to do, he sent her a friend request, hoping she’d see it and get in contact. He navigated away from Facebook.
He turned to Google and ran another search on her. He saw the blog posts, the headlines, read through her wayward past as a troubled club kid. He scanned the headlines from more than five years ago, the teen daughter of an aging horror starlet, stumbling out of nightclubs, yelling at photographers, drinking. It felt wrong, looking into her past like that. It felt like a betrayal, and he wished he could protect her, and scrub it from the internet entirely. But still he perused the sites, hoping he’d find something that would help him find her today.