Married in Vegas: In His Arms

Tired and frustrated, I left my bag at my feet and sprawled on the opposite end of the sofa.

“I promise it wasn’t planned. I had a few too many drinks and ended up handcuffed and in bed with him.”

“Handcuffed?” she spluttered on a laugh.

“Yes. and it’s not funny.” Though it was, I explained what happened as dispassionately as possible giving very few details about the sex. However, I did give her an overview of where and how many times.

She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?”

The concern in her eyes was touching, but it hadn’t been her fault I ended up in his bed.

“You said he had a ring delivered?” she asked.

I nodded and she held up her phone. It was too far for me to see and I told her as much.

“I wasn’t going to show you considering the way you tore in here, but you’ll find out anyway.”

She leaned over and handed me her phone where in bold lettering the headline read. Cameron McCabe Married in Vegas. The posting was less than an hour old.

Hot unabashed tears spilled like a damn overflow from my eyes. He had used me, something so unlike the Cam I knew.

“At least I won’t ever have to see him again,” she said.

Between Eddie and Cam’s rise to fame and fortune, their parents had moved into a new house far across town. If I went home for the holidays, it was likely I wouldn’t run into him. I would just have to make excuses to Eddie why I couldn’t come over for Thanksgiving and Christmas like years past.

“There’s something else,” Jillian said.

She reached for her phone and I gave it back to her. She tapped a few times and handed me the phone again. This headline I should have known since I was a sports reporter. Cameron McCabe traded to Dallas. How had I missed it?

I had no interest in finding out who the new Mrs. McCabe was, but the other I couldn’t ignore. It was hard enough being a woman reporter of males professional leagues. I sighed in relief when the Associated Press piece stated that it had been a secret agreement that the respective teams only released to the public today. That’s why I hadn’t known.

But I inwardly cringed. He was back in the area. My beat included Dallas’s NFL league. I would be seeing him again whether I wanted to or not.

“Chris, are you okay?”

I glanced up and caught the worry in my sister’s eye.

“Yeah, just tired.”

She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t press me either. It was late and tomorrow would be an interesting day. I got up like the walking dead, grabbed my bag, and shambled into my room. I would not hate Cam. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

As I cried myself to sleep, the fantasy of a little cake topper that looked like us melted in my dreams.

Chapter 7

The first call I got woke me from a strange dream I could barely remember. There was an Elvis impersonator and the smell of flowers. The infomercials playing on my TV advertising the greatest hits by the King had to be the cause.

“Hello,” I said into the receiver forgetting to check the caller before I answered.

I blamed that error on loopiness from being snatched from the grips of sleep.

“You’re alive.”

It took me a minute to recognize Eddie’s voice.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding way too scratchy. “What time is it?”

“Time? Where the fuck have you been?”

“Why?” I asked. Still trying to clear out the cobwebs from my eyes or was that the puffiness from my overwrought tears that was hindering my vision. “Shouldn’t you be snuggled up with your new wife?”

It was an honest question.

“I would be if I wasn’t so worried about you.”

I wanted to say something like I’m a grown ass woman and can take care of myself, but look where that had gotten me. Plus, I heard some of the fear in his voice.

“Sorry. I’m okay. I’m home.” I took a breath. “Now go have fun on your honeymoon.”

Unexpectedly, he didn’t hang up. “How’s Jillian?”

I narrowed my puffy eyes.

“Fine why?” suspicion filing my voice as I remembered his and Cam’s conversation.

“It’s just…”

He trailed off into nothingness and I wasn’t ready to wake to a new day. I wanted very much to go back to sleep. It wasn’t like I could ask him about Cam.

“She’s didn’t expect an invite,” I hedged.

If Chelsea had hated me, she hated Jillian more. I never understood why. I’d assumed it was because Jillian and Eddie hadn’t gotten along.

“It’s not that…” Quickly, he switched subject. “Look, I’m glad you’re okay, but next time respond to my texts.”

I couldn’t even secretly laugh thinking how he’d found Cam and me. There was a bitterness in that memory I wasn’t sure I could ever get over.