Almost Beautiful, page 1
Table of Contents
Almost Beautiful
Also by Jamie McGuire
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Almost Beautiful
Beautiful Disaster Series (Book Five)
Jamie McGuire
Copyright © 2022 by Jamie McGuire
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Edited by Karin Enders
Formatted by Alyssa Garcia
Cover Design by Hang Le
First edition.
Also by Jamie McGuire
Providence
Requiem
Eden
Sins of the Innocent
Sins of the Immortal
Beautiful Disaster
Walking Disaster
A Beautiful Wedding
Almost Beautiful
Something Beautiful: A Novella
Beautiful Oblivion
Beautiful Redemption
Beautiful Sacrifice
Beautiful Burn
A Beautiful Funeral
From Here to You
The Edge of Us
Red Hill
Among Monsters
Happenstance: A Novella Series (Parts 1-3)
Apolonia
To Jessica Landers
My right hand, my right brain, my therapist, my biggest cheerleader, my ride or die, my best friend. In a very literal sense, there would be no me without you.
Chapter One
Newlyweds
Abby
FINALLY, WE WERE ALONE.
Travis towered over the bed and our luggage, quietly separating our dirty laundry.
We couldn’t even call our quick trip to Las Vegas a whirlwind—it was a hurricane; one that had no end in sight. We’d run to elope, hunkered down for a family meeting with Shepley and America, and Trenton and Camille to go over the new story of our whereabouts, and now it was just the two of us in our apartment, waiting in the eye of the storm. Sure, it was quiet, but knowing what was coming was almost worse.
Travis had been silent for the most part since we’d gotten home from his dad’s to break the news of our elopement.
Jim took it well. Better than well, he was ecstatic, but he could tell there was something else looming over us. Now that the whole nation knew about the fire, I could tell Jim didn’t want to ask.
“Trav, you’ve been quiet. What are you thinking about?”
He held my wedding dress in front of him, and after several seconds he laid it carefully onto our comforter. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” I repeated, dubious.
“Mostly about the few hours between the wedding and leaving for the airport. It wasn’t long enough.”
I crawled across the bed, over the laundry, and clasped my fingers behind his neck. “Agreed. It felt like a different dimension. But on the bright side, we can have as many nights alone as we want.”
Travis smiled, but it was strained. He looked over to my dress again. The satin and tulle were a bit wrinkled and ruffled, in part from travel but mostly from our wedding night.
Travis was right, it hadn’t been enough time—those magical, perfect hours between our I dos and the plane ride home—but we’d made the most of them.
Even though Travis had kissed me, touched me, held me many times before, his excitement for the wedding and that he could call me his wife, those once-familiar things had all felt new. As we consummated our marriage over and over again, Travis convinced me he wanted nothing and no one else, that being my husband was the most important thing to him in the world.
I kissed his cheek and then returned to my spot on the bed, watching him resume sorting laundry. In truth, there wasn’t much, but he made sure to turn each article of clothing right side out and laid it flat, something he’d never taken the time to do before, as evidenced by the four older piles on the floor.
Travis seemed determined to get lost in mundane chores, anything to keep his mind off the questions and worries swirling inside of him.
I held up my left hand, staring at my diamond ring the way Travis had revered my wedding dress just moments before. I wiggled my fingers, enjoying the way the diamond caught the light, and then noticed Travis staring at me as he came into focus just beyond my hand. One side of his mouth turned up into a half-smile and he laughed once.
“Still okay?” he asked for the third time since we’d arrived home.
“Still Mrs. Maddox,” I said. “So… yes. But I wish we had more time before classes start up again.”
“We can skip a few days,” he said with a smirk.
At first, I thought he was joking, but when his gaze met mine, he dropped the clothes in his hand and walked around to the other side of the bed to sit next to me. He scanned my face with his warm, brown eyes, a day’s worth of scruff on his jaw. He was still as breathtaking as the day I’d met him, his inked skin pulled tightly over his lean, cut muscles.
The tattoos covering his arms varied from artistic to tribal, but none were as precious to him as my nickname scrolled in delicate cursive across his wrist, or the phrase in Hebrew along his rib cage, spanning from under his arm to the crest of his hip. It read, I belong to my beloved, and my beloved is mine—and I was. Officially.
I’d even gotten a new tattoo in Vegas: Mrs. Maddox. For someone who’d never considered getting a tattoo before, I couldn’t stop staring at it ... or my new husband.
Husband. The word would forever give me butterflies, I was sure of it.
He nuzzled my neck, pressing tiny kisses on certain very lucky patches of skin. “I have never been so tempted in my life, but I have statistics this semester. Not a class I want to miss.”
“You'll do fine,” he said. “You solve problems the way I throw punches.”
“Nothing is that beautiful.”
He leaned back to catch my expression, a dozen emotions scanning across his face. His eyebrows pulled in, finally settling on adoration. “My wife is.”
“I don’t think hearing you call me that will ever get old.”
“Good. Then I don’t have to feel so stupid about how happy it makes me.”
He turned my head and planted his lips on mine, forcing his other hand between my back side and the bed, making every inch of my skin beg to be touching some part of him.
“Do we have time for this?” he asked.
“We’re newlyweds, we’ll make time,” I said, scooting further down on the mattress.
Travis reached back to grab his shirt and then pulled it up and over, tossing it to the pile of clothes on the other side of the bed. He slipped my black leggings off with ease, and then kissed me for a few moments more before reaching down and sliding his fingers beneath the cotton fabric of my panties.
I breathed out, a small whimper slipping with it. That tiny sound made Travis’s movements less patient, and he yanked down his shorts and, without pause, thrust himself inside me.
Once he was fully seated, he forced himself to pause, his faltering breath hot against my ear.
“I should … slow down … I’m gonna …”
“Don’t,” I said, locking my ankles behind him. “Not this time.”
He paused for just a few more seconds—long enough to kiss me—but once he moved again, slow wasn’t something he could manage. He rocked into me over and over, his arms shaking, so lost in the feeling that he ignored the performance of it all and allowed every nerve to be overwhelmed with the way his skin felt surrounded and caressed by mine.
“Pidge …”
“Don’t stop,” I whispered.
He felt as different as he did familiar, letting go of his control as he finished.
“God, you feel good … God da—” He groaned through his climax, trembling, holding himself inside me as he came.
We were both breathing hard, but then he inhaled, deep and slow, and then sighed. “Damn, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for
“I got a little carried away.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I asked, keeping my leg hooked over him as he lay next to me.
He stared at the ceiling. “That wasn’t making love to you, that was blowing off steam.”
“I’m not mad about it.”
He looked over at me. “Why do you love me so much? I think I’m a fuck up and you just … understand me. You already know before I ever explain.”
“I don’t know,” I said, running my fingers over his whiskers.
“Probably not a good sign,” he said, only half kidding.
“Well, I don’t love you because of the way you look, that’s infatuation. I don’t love you because of our sexual chemistry, that’s lust. I don’t love you because you love me, that’s empathy. I don’t love you because of what you can give me or what you can do for me, that’s transactional. I don’t love you because of the way you treat me, that’s gratitude. I don’t love you because you keep me safe, that’s security. I don’t know why I love you, babe. That’s how I know it’s real.”
Travis pressed his lips together and shook his head, touching his nose to mine.
I closed one eye tight. “We should probably …”
He turned onto his back with a groan. “I know … I know. How about this weekend we just take a day?”
“I’m on board.”
Travis stood, reaching for my hand and pulling me upright. We couldn’t help but smile as we dressed, and then I took a look around our bedroom and perched my hands on my hips, blowing an errant strand of hair from my face.
“It’s not that much, Pidge. We can knock it all out this evening.”
“I know, it’s just … nothing. Never mind. You know,” I said, taking another long, hard look, “it just hit me how different your room looks from when we met.”
Travis scanned the paint between each corner. Just a few months before, a lone sombrero hung from his wall, now frames holding black and white photographs hung in its place and everywhere else. Moments of us from every stage of our relationship: friends, enemies, and lovers. It wasn’t surprising that in every shot we were smiling or that Travis was touching me in some way.
I'd missed our bedroom, but the last time we were in it I was proposing to Travis, his face smeared with soot from the fire not long before.
A hint of smoke still hung in the air.
“What’s that look?” Travis asked, his body stiffening.
“Nothing,” I said.
“It’s not nothing. I’m going to make you happy; I want you to know that. To believe that. It won’t be that different, except we come home to each other every night. Doesn’t sound that bad …”
I tilted my head. “That bad? Travis, stop. You act as if I’m going to change my mind at any moment.”
“Are you?”
I frowned.
His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
I took a few steps until I was just a couple of inches from him. “Look at me. Right here,” I said, using my index and middle fingers to point to my own eyes. “I won’t change my mind, Trav. I am so, so happy. I promise.”
His muscles relaxed. “I keep trying to push the thought out of my head, but it won’t go away.”
“It’s been a rollercoaster. I don’t blame you for feeling that way, no one would.”
He nodded and offered a contrived smile. “Okay. I won’t mention it again.”
“Yes, you will. Because if you don’t, I can’t reassure you. And I will, a million times if I have to.”
“God, I love you, Pidge.”
I pushed up on the balls of my feet and kissed the tip of his nose. “I love you. We’d better get this laundry started so we can relax tonight.”
Travis took an empty basket to the end of the hall. The dryer door opened and then the washer, then Travis returned with warm, fresh and dry clothes to fold.
I reached for a towel and began folding it. “Shep and Mare seem to be on board.”
He nodded, and as quickly as he’d relaxed, he seemed to retreat back into his shell.
“Your dad is happy. And no matter what America says, she’s happy, too. Shepley scored a room at Helms Hall. It’s like it was all meant to be.”
“That was … tough,” Travis said.
“Which part?”
“Asking Shep and Mare to lie. Not telling Dad the truth.”
“They weren’t there. They’re not lying … they’re just … forgetting the phone conversation we had before we left. Emotions were high. They don’t remember.”
“I don’t want anyone to get in trouble for me. Least of all you.”
“No one’s getting in trouble. It’s handled.”
Travis met my gaze. “Handled, huh?”
“You know what I mean.” I gathered one of the piles into my arms and turned for the door, wondering if Travis felt as content and yet displaced in our new marriage as I did.
"Where you going?" Travis asked, tense.
I motioned with a tiny twist of my upper body toward the hall. “Laundry.” He made a face, and I laughed. “I'll be just down the hall, baby.”
He nodded, but I could tell he was still worried about our marriage being erased somehow, as if it hadn't really happened. That the moment I was out of his sight, he would wake up in bed alone.
I passed the doorway to the living room, stopping less than two feet later to push the folding door aside, revealing the stacked washer and dryer. The unit was loud, yellow tinged, and older than I was, but it worked well enough. I only put in half the load I was holding, knowing the tiny drum couldn’t handle more than that. Just after I poured in the detergent, twisted the knob and closed the lid, someone knocked on the door.
I let the rest of the clothes fall to the floor and stepped over them to hurry across the living room. I peeked out of the peephole and swallowed, taking a moment to gather my thoughts before opening the door.
“Hi,” I said, trying to seem surprised.
The police officers were in plain clothes—meaning they were detectives—and they didn’t seem at all surprised to see me.
“Miss Abernathy?” the one on the left asked. He was round, his belly bulging over his belt buckle, and his worn tweed blazer was a bit small. The badge just over his jacket pocket read Gable.
His partner, Williams, was smartly dressed in a purple button-down and matching tie. He crossed his arms, his smooth, dark complexion the opposite of Gable’s rosy skin and freckles.
“I was. I’m Mrs. Maddox now,” I said, knowing Gable was confirming, not asking.
“Oh? We’re looking for Travis Maddox. Your… husband?”
“Yes. He’s here. He’s in the restroom,” I said, hoping Travis couldn’t hear us over the sound of the washer. It would be much easier to cover for him if he stayed hidden in the bedroom. I needed to prepare him. He wasn’t as good of a liar as I was because he hadn’t needed to be. I couldn’t remember him ever telling a lie in the seven months since we’d met.
“Can we step in for a moment? We need to speak with him,” Williams said.
“Is this about the fire?” I asked.
The detectives traded glances, already feeling like they were a step ahead. “Yes,” Gable said. “What can you tell me about it?”
“I saw it on the news. As soon as we unpack, we’re going to his fraternity house. He lost some of his brothers. He’s heartbroken,” I said, knowing that part wasn’t a lie.
“You said you’re his wife,” Gable prompted. “That’s new?”
“We eloped this weekend. To Vegas. We came home early because of the fire.”
Gable narrowed his eyes. “We have a few eyewitnesses who said Travis might’ve been in the building at the time of the fire. They’ve made statements that he was a regular opponent in the, uh”—he looked at his notepad—“floating fight ring.” He enunciated each word as if he were speaking a foreign language.
“I mean ... I guess it’s illegal to lie to you,” I said, hanging on to the edge of the door. The men leaned in, eager to hear my confession. “We’ve been to a few. There’s not a lot to do in Eakins.” I snorted, and then pretended to be uncomfortable and awkward when they didn’t find my joke funny.
Gable leaned over, noticing something behind me. “Mr. Maddox?”
