Page 41

Roman

W as that…Gabby?

I blink once. Twice.

The woman dressed as Mrs. Roper doesn’t turn and bolt for the pool like I'm expecting. Instead, judging from the alarms going off, she went out the emergency exit. A thick wave of déjà vu crashes over me, pulling me back to Easton’s wedding six months ago when Gabby ran down this same hallway.

“What are you talking about?” Avery asks, peering up at me like I've grown a second head.

Wait, did I say that out loud?

I turn to her, squinting one eye shut to try and steady the world. “I think...I think I just saw Gabby.”

“Gabby? That was Mrs. Roper, dude. Whoever that even is. Remember? There’s a whole convention going on.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck, trying to keep my head from spinning clean off my shoulders. That’s when Rip stumbles out into the hall, a bridesmaid clinging to him like a human scarf.

“What’s going on?” he asks, and somehow he sounds way more sober than either of us.

Avery slaps a hand on my chest, nearly knocking me back a step. “Romeo here thinks he just saw Gabby.”

Rip’s gaze sharpens immediately, slicing through the drunken haze hanging around us.

“Gabby's here?” he says, voice low and serious.

The crease between his brows deepens, and a cold blade of unease cuts through my buzz. “What’s going on?” I demand, straightening up. I shake my head. No. No way. That couldn’t have been her. Gabby’s with Cass. That’s why she’s been ghosting my calls, leaving my texts on read.

Rip yanks out his phone and starts scrolling furiously. I hold my hand up. “I don’t want to see it again,” I groan, my stomach doing slow, miserable flips as the image pops into my mind.

Gabby and Cass, tucked into some cozy, candlelit restaurant, heads bent together, laughing like they were the only two people left on the planet. Then that gut-punch shot of them at the airport, locked in an embrace that was way too intimate for ‘just friends’.

Yeah, I looked again. I said I wouldn’t, but who the hell was I kidding? Masochist, table for one. The internet was already a madhouse over Avery and me — but Gabby and Cass?

FASHION'S HOTTEST COLLAB IS BACK, the headlines screamed, each word slamming into my chest like a fist.

I really did it.

I really pushed her straight back into his arms.

Hell, I wasn’t worried about Gabby believing the rumors about Avery and me — because come on, that was different.

We’re friends. Always were. But Gabby and Cass?

They were engaged. About to build a life together.

And Gabby had pressed pause on that whole future.

..until I shoved her right back toward it.

Fucking idiot.

But hey, better she regrets me now than resents me later, right?

You really believe that, dude?

My stomach coils tight. And when Rip's eyes, sharp, pained, way too sober, lift to meet mine, everything inside me collapses. Without thinking, I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the cold, hard floor, my back thudding against it. He doesn’t have to say it. It’s written all over his face.

I fucked up.

“Rip?” My voice is barely a croak.

Rip holds out his phone, a picture pulled up on the screen. Cass, locked in an embrace. But not with Gabby. With some guy I don’t recognize.

“Looks like Cass came out,” Rip says, his voice careful, like he's tiptoeing through broken glass. “I’m not sure who Todd is.”

A hollow laugh rattles out of me. “Todd’s Gabby’s old best friend,” I say, pulling my knees up to my chest. I wrap my arms around them like I can somehow hold myself together. “Do you think that was...Gabby?” I ask, my voice cracking right down the middle.

“I don't know, man,” Rip says quietly. “Maybe she was trying to surprise you. Mrs. Roper costume, full circle, you know? Like what Elias and Taylor did.”

The pieces click. I glance at Avery’s sash—Just Married—and the fake plastic ring still spinning on her finger.

“Oh my God.” I stare at Avery, horror dawning fast. “I got married. Holy shit, Avery, we got married.”

Avery lifts her hand, pops off the ring, and darts back into the reception, laughing. “Relax, Romeo. You didn’t get married,” Rip says, crouching beside me.

“I don't get it,” I mutter, my head pounding. “The sash, the ring…”

“You guys were just messing around,” Rip says. “You thought it looked fun. You were hammered and hurting, man. I made sure it didn’t happen for real.”

A rush of shame sweeps through me. “Jesus, Rip,” I whisper. “What the hell would I do without you?”

He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Come on. Right now, you need sleep, buddy.”

“No.” I grab his jacket, my grip desperate. “I need to find Gabby. Help me,” I beg.

Rip hesitates as he glances down the hall, security running past us as alarms sound. “I...I think she’s already gone.” Panic claws up my throat. I tighten my grip on his jacket.

“I know what she thinks she saw. But she’s wrong.”

“Just like you were wrong about her,” Rip tells me gently.

The words hit like a punch to the gut. I think back to the pictures.

Gabby and Cass. I didn’t ask. I didn’t trust. I just..

.assumed. Christ, I didn’t even believe my own truth—that social media was a joke.

Meanwhile, Gabby likely saw the pictures of Avery and me, and she didn’t assume the worst, until she walked in on a drunk, laughing, fake marriage that seemed far too real.

God, what have I done?

I press my palms into my eyes, trying to block out the ache.

“Why didn’t I trust her?” I whisper.

Rip's voice is low, rough with experience. “Childhood fucks us up, buddy.”

I nod, swallowing hard, knowing he's not wrong, knowing he gets it in a way few people could.

“Come on,” Rip says, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s go fix this.”

Avery jogs back toward us, bottles of water in hand. I down one like my life depends on it, forcing myself to focus, towake the hell up.

We head down the hall, past the maintenance workers blocking the exits. No choice but to push through the crowded, neon-lit strip out front. Fireworks explode overhead, blinding bursts of color lighting up the night.

“I don't know if we're going to find her,” Avery says, glancing around. “Have you tried texting?”

Shit no. Why didn’t I think of texting her?

Oh, maybe because panic and alcohol are a bad combination .

I fumble for my phone with shaky hands and shoot off a message.

Me:Gabby, are you here in Vegas? If that was you…it’s not what you think.

The second I hit send, I sag back against a building, chest heaving, palms braced on my thighs.

Where could she have gone? The airport? Back to Boston?

No.If she thought I’d gotten married, why would she head back there?

Maybe she’s gone to her parents’ house. The one place she never wanted to be.

I rake a hand through my hair, panicked.

If I only had Cass’s number. Maybe hewould know where she went.

“We need to find Maeve,” I say, pushing off the wall.

“She might know something. They’ve gotten close.

” Rip falls into step beside me, and we hustle back inside.

But the reception hall is a ghost town, chairs stacked, tables stripped bare, the music long gone silent.

Most of the guests have already crashed for the night, getting ready to catch flights back home in the morning.

I think about texting Maeve or Tanner…but then stop myself. It’s their first real getaway without Stella.

Don't ruin it for them. Don’t be that guy.

A casual run-in would be better. Natural. Easy. Not a 2AM SOS text. Rip claps a heavy arm around my shoulders. “I think you need to call it a night, bud. We’ll fix this. I promise.”

I want to argue. I want to keep searching. But the exhaustion, the gut-wrenching panic, finally wins. I head to my room and fall into bed. The next thing I know it’s morning and I wake with my skull splitting in two. My first instinct is to grab my phone. No new messages.

Goddammit.

I text Gabby again.

Me:Please. We need to talk.

Maybe she thinks I reallydidmarry Avery. Maybe she thinks she’s better off running. But no.

We’re good together. Solid. Even my brother saw it, and that means something.

Then my mind goes back to the fortune teller at Gina’s party.

That I wouldn’t be the one to run, she would .

I’m the guy who always runs, until Gabby, but now she’s running. The prediction was real .

Which means…

It’s time for me to chase. I’m not giving up. Not now. Not ever. I’m fighting for the woman I love.

After a quick shower, I tear through packing my bag and haul ass downstairs. I blitz through the hotel, checking the restaurants, the rooftop, even the ballrooms, but last night's wedding decor is already ripped apart, replaced by pastel centerpieces for the next couple.

No Gabby.

Panic gnaws at my chest. I jam my thumb against Rip’s number and call.

He picks up, voice scratchy with sleep. “Hey.”

“Sorry, man,” I say, checking the time. Way too early. “Still no word from Gabby. I’m trying to track down Maeve. Any chance you can check if she’s still at the hotel?” I hate asking.

But Rip’s family owns this place, and he can get answers I can’t.

“Yeah, bud. Give me a few minutes, okay?”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I mutter, throat tight.

I hang up and head toward the lobby, just in time to spot Avery walking into the café. I follow her in, heart hammering.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.

She gives me a small, wobbly smile. “Sure.”

I slide into the seat across from her. Her eyes, rimmed red from last night’s chaos, study me carefully.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“No,” I breathe out. “I fucked up, Avery.”

She winces, guilt flashing across her face. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I went along with the whole fake marriage thing. I should’ve said no.”

I shake my head, burying my face in my hands. “It’s not your fault. I was wrecked. I wasn’t thinking. I think…I thought we were really getting married,” I admit, voice low and raw.