Almost Beautiful, page 2
I turned, seeing Travis frozen in the hallway.
“Hi, baby,” I said. “These officers were told you were at the fight this weekend. They’re asking questions.”
“May we come in?” Williams asked.
“Sure,” Travis said, stepping over the pile of clothes I’d left on the floor. He wiped his hands on his pants and offered a firm handshake to Williams first, then Gable as they introduced themselves as detectives. “Travis Maddox.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Gable said, flicking his hand in reaction to the pressure Travis had used during their handshake. Gable stepped in, past me, noticeably wary of the man he was confronting.
“You’ve met my wife,” Travis said as I closed the door behind the detectives.
The men nodded. Williams sniffed. “Did you drive or fly to Vegas?”
“Fly,” we said in unison, then smiled at each other. Travis took my hand as we sat on the couch.
Williams chose the recliner. Gable took up most of the loveseat.
“They’re really saying he was there?” I asked.
“That you were both there, actually,” Gable said, writing something down in his notebook. “Do you still have your boarding passes?”
“Yes,” I said, standing. I made my way to the bedroom, digging into my purse for the passes and the hotel receipt. I wanted to keep them handy for when the investigators arrived to question Travis on his whereabouts. I grabbed my wedding dress on the way out. I didn’t want to leave Travis alone with the detectives any longer than I needed to.
“That was quick,” Williams said, suspicious.
“We just got back a couple hours ago,” I said. “It was all in my purse. Here,” I said, handing him the passes and the hotel receipt.
“That’s your, uh ...” Gable began, gesturing to the dress draped over my arm.
“Yes,” I said, holding it up with a proud smile. “Oh!” I said, startling Travis. I hurried down the hall again, tossing my dress onto the bed and returning to the living room with a DVD case in my hand. “Would you like to see the ceremony?”
Before either of them could answer, I popped it into the player and grabbed the remote. I sat next to Travis, snuggling next to him while we watched him stand next to the officiant, fidgeting. I kissed his cheek, then he turned to me and pressed his lips against mine.
“Okay,” Williams said, standing. His phone chimed, and he held it to his ear. “Williams. What? When? That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Travis shot me a quick glance, but I squeezed his hand while keeping a smile on my face. I stared at the television. The recording made it easy to pretend I wasn’t focused on Williams’s every word.
Gable mouthed What? to his partner.
Williams shook his head. “Yes, sir. We’re here now. I understand, sir. Yes, sir.” He sighed and put his phone away, looking to Travis with an annoyed expression. “The Federal Bureau of Investigation is taking over the case. I’m sure they’ll have more questions for you.”
“The FBI?” Travis asked.
Williams frowned at his stunned partner. “Looks that way. Have a nice day, Mr. Maddox. Congratulations and good luck.”
Travis stood, bringing me with him. We watched the detectives leave, and then Travis paced.
“Trav,” I said, reaching for him. He didn’t stop to let me catch him. “Travis, stop. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
He sat down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his nose and mouth with his hand. His knees were bouncing, and he was breathing hard.
I was bracing myself for an outburst.
I sat next to him, touching his bulging shoulder. “We were in Vegas getting married. That’s what happened, and that’s what we’ll keep saying. You didn’t do anything wrong, Travis. It was an awful thing that happened, but I’m not going to let you go down for this.”
“Abby,” Travis said through his hands. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Did you know this was going to happen?”
I kissed his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“That I’d need an alibi.”
My heart began to thump in my chest, banging against my ribcage. “What are you talking about?”
He turned to me with subdued fear in his eyes, already regretting the question he was about to ask. “Tell me the truth.”
I shrugged. “Okay ...”
“Did you marry me to keep me out of jail?”
I swallowed. For the first time, I was afraid my famous poker face couldn’t save me. If I admitted to creating his alibi, he wouldn’t believe me that I also married him because I loved him and wanted to be his wife. He wouldn’t believe that the only reason I would agree to be his wife as a freshman in college—at just nineteen—was because of that love. I couldn’t tell him the truth, and I didn’t want to start off our marriage with such an enormous lie.
I opened my mouth to speak, not knowing which I would choose until the words came out.
Chapter Two
Light
Travis
NOT LONG BEFORE MY MOM DIED, I remember hanging onto her leg while she was washing dishes. Soft white sun beams cascaded into the kitchen window, creating a soft glow that tightly hugged her profile and clothes. The light highlighted the dust motes that fell around us.
Mom was taking her time, making sure the plates and pots didn’t clink together, humming a song that’s forever stuck in my head. The house was quiet, the only sounds were the water and suds gently sloshing against the dishes and her sweet song.
I’d tried my entire life to figure out the tune she’d always hummed around the house, but she must’ve just made it up because I’ve never heard anything like it since. The only place it existed now was in my memories. The most vivid from that day, the day I realized much later was the beginning of a sweet, slow goodbye.
All of my older brothers were at school since Trenton had started kindergarten. Being alone with Mom was the best part of my day.
I loved my brothers but having her all to myself was a luxury each of us only got to experience for a short time. I wasn’t sure if I had a feeling about what was coming, but I was acutely aware that time with her was fleeting.
Mom chuckled at how clingy I was, more than any of the other boys had been, not that she minded. It would be wishful thinking to believe her endless patience was because I was the baby and she knew that I was her last. Mom knew she was sick, and she was enjoying every moment of her life for as long as she had it.
Being loved by Abby reminded me of both of those things: feeling so calm, soft, and quiet, like when I was leaning against Mom in the kitchen, listening to her hum that beautiful song. And the unshakeable, unexplainable feeling—one I didn’t understand—that my time with her could end at any moment.
I knew Abby loved me. She’d said it countless times, but more importantly she showed me with her actions. Hell, even when she was pissed off at me it was for my own good. Only two women in my life had made me feel that way.
I couldn’t lose Abby. If that meant lying to the police, lying to my friends and family and the world, I would do it. I wasn’t the same person without her. With her, I was different … better.
My wife gave me purpose, finding new ways to love her and make her happy gave me something to look forward to. There was nothing and no one that made me feel more joy.
In that moment, waiting for her to answer why she’d really married me, my brain flipped through thousands of scenarios. If she said marrying me was to keep me out of jail, it wouldn’t change anything. I would still want to be her husband and still hold out hope that even though the situation moved the goal post, I would eventually make her believe that she’d made the right decision.
Some people might call me a selfish asshole, but she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t love me. Timing was the issue, social constructs, but not love. If she alleviated my fears and said that yes, she’d wanted to marry me within the hour of the fire, would I believe her? Was I so sure of my suspicion that I’d consider it a lie? If she was lying, did that mean I couldn’t trust her?
The wheels were obviously spinning in Abby’s head, too, and she shifted in her seat next to me on the couch trying to maintain her rock-solid poker face.
When her features were smooth in a tense moment, she was hiding something. A part of me had a real problem starting out with secrets.
I was her husband; I’d changed to be better for both of us. My whole life was different because of her. I wanted her to trust me with the truth. But, at the end of the day, if the shoe were on the other foot and I was afraid she wouldn’t let me save her …? You bet your ass I’d lie. In a heartbeat. I’d lie through my fuckin’ teeth. Suddenly, I was angry at myself for asking the question. Do I really want to know?
Before I could take it back, she began to speak.
Chapter Three
White Lie
Abby
“TRAVIS,” I BEGAN, TOUCHING HIS knee. “I married you because I’m in love with you.”
He hesitated. He didn’t want to be asking these questions, and I wished that he wouldn’t. Still, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“Is that the only reason?” As soon as the words came from his mouth, I watched him brace for whatever excruciating pain my answer would cause.
“No.”
His chest heaved as if all the air had been knocked out of him. An hour before, he was just beginning to accept that our weekend wasn’t a dream. A month before he would have trashed the apartment, unable to decipher hurt from rage.
I could see him fighting the urge to lash out at the closest inanimate object, even under the immense pain he was feeling. Seeing that conflict in every tiny twitch of his expression made me love him even more.
Travis stared at the floor as he spoke. “Abby, when I say I love you ... I didn't know until this moment that I would want something more than for you to be my wife.” His breath faltered, and he cleared the trembling from his voice. “The truth is … what is more important to me than anything, is for you to be happy. You didn’t have to do this if it’s not what you truly wanted.”
“I am happy. Today, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Tomorrow, I’ll be even happier. But your happiness is just as important to me, Travis, and,” I hesitated.
No matter how many ways I tried to explain, Travis wouldn’t understand. Eloping to Vegas to save him from prison meant more to me than deciding on a whim to be married at nineteen. Maybe it wasn’t as romantic as the random, impulsive proposal Travis thought it to be, but I had put action behind my feelings. To me, it was proof that my love for him transcended all else, but I couldn’t be sure Travis would see it that way.
“Just say it, Pidge. I need to hear you say it. I just … need to know the truth,” he said, defeated.
I cupped his jaw in my hands and skimmed his ear with my lips. “When I thought you were trapped in that fire, I knew. I knew I would never love anyone else, that you were it for me. That I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, and I thought it was too late. I am your beloved,” I whispered. My eyebrows pulled in. “And you’re mine. Getting married … I don’t know, it feels real. Unbreakable. Being your wife is what I want. It’s all I want.”
He turned, touching my cheek with his fingertips, and watched my eyes for the tiniest hint that I wasn’t being completely honest.
I offered a small smile, keeping my worries hidden deep inside. The words passing my lips were the truth, but I felt the need to protect them as if they were lies.
Travis didn’t need to know that I wanted to save him. He only needed to know why.
He nodded, exhaling as his muscles relaxed. “Have you ever wanted something so much, something so out of reach, that once it happened you were almost too afraid to believe it?”
“Yes,” I whispered, kissing his lips. “We are one, now. Nothing will ever change that.”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “A twenty-year prison sentence could change that.”
“How can you think you have no control over what happens to us? You made me fall so hard that I proposed to you at nineteen.”
He laughed once.
I raised an eyebrow. “Have you stopped to think that I asked you to marry me because I’m the one afraid of losing you?”
That surprised him, and then he seemed exasperated. “Where am I gonna go?” he asked, pulling me onto his lap. “You’re my anchor. There’s not a thing out there I would want if it took me away from you.”
The corners of Travis’s mouth curled up, but only for a second. “I’m being investigated by the FBI, Pidge. What if I get arrested? What if I’m gone for a long time?”
I shook my head. “Won’t happen. You weren’t there. We were in Vegas getting married.” I held up my hand, wiggling my fingers so the light reflected off the facets of my diamond.
His expression made my eyes gloss over, and I threw my arms around him, holding him tight, digging my chin in the crook of his neck. I didn’t have to hide that I was afraid. “I won't let them take you from me.”
“Someone’s gotta pay for what happened.”
My eyes danced around our apartment, at the tiny candles I’d bought from the Eakins Strip Mall, and the ash tray Travis kept by the door to grab before he went outside to smoke. I thought about his favorite spatula next to my favorite serving spoon in the kitchen drawer, his shot glasses next to my coffee mugs, his smelly gym socks mixed with my Victoria’s Secret lace.
I thought about Eastern State’s campus and feeling giddy when Travis somehow found me in a sea of students, and the time half the cafeteria broke out into song just because he wanted to help take the attention off me.
I had moved from Kansas to Illinois to escape my past and landed face-first into the last person I’d wanted to get mixed up with—who happened to be the one person who would love me more intensely and unconditionally than anyone ever had.
Travis Maddox made me smile, made me look forward to every day. There was no Abby without Travis.
“Not you,” I said. “You didn't choose the building. You didn’t hang the lanterns. The fire was an accident, Trav. An awful, terrible accident, but if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s not yours.”
“One of these days I’m going to have to come clean, Pidge. How do I explain this to Dad? How do I tell my brothers that I had a part in it? Some of our fraternity brothers are gone forever. Fuck,” he said, running his hand over his short hair. “Trenton almost died in that fire.”
“But he didn’t. Travis?” I shook my head. “You can’t tell them. You can’t tell anyone. Because if you do and they don’t turn you in, they’ll be in trouble, too.”
He thought about that for a moment, and then nodded. “But ... what if they arrest Adam?”
I looked down. “He’s already been arrested.”
“What? Where did you hear that?”
“On the news, while we were in Vegas.”
“And you didn’t tell me? Pidge!”
“I know! I know. But I didn’t want to ruin anything. What could we have done about it? What would it have changed had I told you?”
“If I’d known I was going to jail—”
“You’re not going to jail!”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have dragged you down with me!” Travis realized what he’d said, then rubbed the back of his neck.
I grew quiet. “Maybe it’s you having second thoughts.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I swear to God that’s not it.”
“Wow,” I said, feeling a sinking in my gut. “How has that never crossed my mind before?”
He took my chin gently in his strong hands. “Because it’s never crossed mine.”
I stared into his worried, russet irises. “We’re going to take this one step at a time. The first step is our marriage. We come first, every time,” I said, touching his chest with my finger. “It’s us, our family, then the world. Adam is a lot of things, but he’s no snitch.”
In truth, I was unsure how I would handle the variable of Adam. Even the strongest people did things out of character when afraid. If even one person in that basement during the fight was willing to testify, our alibi might not matter.
Travis nodded, then kissed me. His lips lingered, and I could feel them trembling against mine before he finally pulled away just enough to speak his next words against my mouth. “I fucking love you,” he whispered.
The doorknob jiggled, and then Shepley and America burst through, both holding bulging brown sacks and chatting about jalapeno cilantro hummus. They stopped just behind the couch, staring at us while we were in a frozen embrace.
“The fuck, Shep? Knock!” Travis said.
Shepley shrugged, the sacks moving up, too. “I live here!”
“Lived. You lived here. I’m married. You’re a third wheel. Third wheels knock,” Travis said.
America snatched the keys from Shepley’s hand and held them up for Travis to see. “Not if the third wheel has a key,” she snapped. “By the way, Shep got Brazil to lend us his truck to get Abby moved the rest of the way in. You’re welcome.”
She turned for the kitchen in a huff, signaling for Shepley to follow. She was still angry about our elopement, ignoring that sneaking away in the night without telling anyone was the only way it could be.
They opened all the cabinets and began unloading the sacks, filling the nearly empty shelves with cans and bags and boxes.
“I’ll help,” I said, beginning to push off Travis’s lap.
He pulled me back down, nuzzling my neck.
“Oh,” America snarled. “You’re married now. Let the third wheels put away the two-hundred dollars in groceries they just bought.”
“Whoa! Nice, Shep!” Travis said, turning to look into the kitchen long enough for Shepley to shoot him a wink.
“I buy, you cook. That hasn’t changed, right, Trav?” Shepley said.
“Right,” Travis said, lifting his thumb into the air. “Who wants to eat at the cafeteria three times a day?”
