“No. No, no, no.” He’s in front of me now, blocking my path. “I’m serious. What do you mean, your wife? Since when do you have a wife?”
“Since yesterday.”
His jaw drops. “Dad, what the hell?”
“I met her on the plane to Vegas. We got married. She left. Now I’m looking for her.” I down the whiskey and pour another. “That’s it. That’s the story.”
“That’s it?” He’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You met someone on a plane and married them? You? The man who runs background checks on people who want to date me? You married a stranger?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
“Oh my God.” He runs both hands through his hair, pacing. “This is insane. This is—Dad, I once drove your Aston Martin through a fountain at two AM. I got arrested for public urination at a charity gala. I accidentally set fire to the pool house trying to impress a girl. None of that compares to this. This is next-level crazy.”
Despite everything, I almost smile. “Are you done?”
“No! I’m not done!” But he’s laughing now, the shock giving way to something like amusement. “What’s her name?”
“Savannah Castellanos.”
“And she just…left? Why?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be tearing apart every database in the country trying to find her.”
Alexi goes quiet, studying my face. Then his expression softens. “You’re in love with her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You are. Holy shit. Dad’s in love.” He sits down, looking dazed. “What’s she like?”
I think about her laugh. Her smile. The way she kissed.
“She’s smart. Funny. Doesn’t take herself too seriously. Her mother just died, she caught her boyfriend cheating on her, and she won a plane ticket to Vegas.” I swirl the whiskey in my glass. “She’s been through so much, honestly.”
“So,” Alexi says carefully, “she got scared and ran.”
“Scared of what?”
“You, maybe? You’re not exactly normal boyfriend material, Dad. You’re a—” He glances around even though we’re alone. “You know what you are.”
Yeah. I do.
“She doesn’t know that about me.”
“I’ll find her,” Alexi says. “I’ll help. We’ll find her.”
“There are hundreds of Savannah Castellanos. She has no social media, no online presence. She’s a ghost.”
“Then we’ll check them all.” He stands up, determined. “She’s my stepmom after all. We need to find her.”
I look at my son—this kid I’d burn the world for—and nod. “Thank you.”
“That’s what family does.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “For what it’s worth? I hope she’s worth all this trouble.”
“She is.”
After he leaves, I turn back to my computer and the endless list of dead ends.
The next morning, I have a problem that needs handling.
