Almost Beautiful, page 21
Three times we’d thought we had our chance, but twice Adam chickened out, and a third time Travis came down with the flu. This time, though, was a now or never situation. Adam had a hearing coming up, and both sides were pressuring him for a plea bargain.
After almost a year of planning and stressing, Adam and Travis were finally meeting in the shed behind The Red Door, long after last call so they didn’t chance being seen. I’d had a good feeling when he left that it was the right time and everything would go smoothly, but he’d been gone for hours.
Pacing the living room floor hadn’t helped, so I resorted to sitting in the recliner and rocking back and forth only pretending to chew my nails.
The sun would be rising in less than two hours. In my mind, there were only two reasons why it was taking so long: they had a lot of information to go over, or they’d been caught and arrested.
Right when I thought I might go out of my mind, a key entered the lock and the door opened. My husband had just stepped into the entry and closed the door behind him, bracing himself as I threw my arms around his shoulders.
He held me at arm’s length and held his index finger to his lips.
I nodded, and he led me outside by the hand, down the narrow walkway that ended at the complex’s small playground.
Travis sat on a swing, and I joined him on the adjacent one. He rocked back and forth, keeping his feet on the ground.
“Tell me he didn’t take a plea bargain and confirm you were there,” I said, keeping my voice just above a whisper.
Travis shook his head. “He hasn’t implicated me, but I found out why Brandon was talking to the Feds. He doesn’t want to get me out of the way to get a chance at you—well, that may be part of it—but it goes deeper than that. I knew Adam made good money off those fights, but he was driving a Lambo for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t have made that much more than me. Now, it makes sense.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Adam had a business partner.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Since when?”
“Almost since the beginning. A guy who used to fight in The Circle back when my brothers did. When he graduated college and retired from the ring, he made a proposal to Adam so he could keep making money off the fights. But they weren’t just taking bets in the basements. Adam set cameras up before every fight. They were streaming and taking bets from all over the world. Adam was clearing a million a year.”
“What?” I said, louder than intended.
“He didn’t tell me, so it didn’t make a dent in his cut—he was already halving it with his partner.”
My mouth fell open. “Brandon?”
Travis nodded.
“So … so, what? Brandon is in trouble, too, and he’s wanting to take you down with him?”
Travis laughed once without humor. “He went to them. He thought it was only a matter of time before he got caught, so he went on the offense and told the Feds he could help them in return for immunity.”
“And they agreed? Why would they do that if they could get you and him both?”
“Because they don’t know about him yet. He hasn’t told them about his involvement and won’t until he can get what they need to take me down. Then he can get his immunity. If they go after both of us without proof, they could lose both cases. Or, they get proof from Brandon and have a solid case against me.
“The good news is, they haven’t been able to find anything that’ll stick. They know the wedding took place after the fire but we went so soon after, the investigation is reliant upon if they can place us at the airport or anywhere else prior to the flight. If we weren’t on camera anywhere except for the airport—and they can’t place us anywhere else—we can say we were anywhere we want prior to the airport. As long as there’s no footage to say otherwise. Their case against me would be circumstantial. But with Brandon testifying against me, or if he could get a confession …”
I gripped the chains that held up my swing, feeling the metal dig into my skin. “We’re going to nail him to the wall, Travis. I don’t know how, but we’re going to turn this around on him, and he’s going to prison for a very long time.”
Travis looked up at the stars. “I don’t know how we’re going to do that, either. Maybe it’s time we called it.”
“Called what?”
He turned to me with tears in his eyes. “This is bad. This is way bigger than we realized. Benny’s wanting to get involved. You’ve already lied to the Feds and blackmailed reporters. It’s bad enough that I’m going to be away from you for however many years, but I couldn’t live with myself if you went, too. I’ll go fucking crazy worrying about you in there, if you’re being hurt, if you’re sick, if you’re sad … if you regret the day we crossed paths ...”
“Travis,” I said, standing. I grabbed hold of the chains of his swing and slipped a leg on each side of his hips, straddling him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. His lips were different, distant, stiff. I cupped his face. “We’re going to be okay; do you hear me? I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
Travis shook his head, his gaze meeting mine. He looked heartbroken. “Not this time, Pidge.”
I leaned back to get a better read on his expression. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
He stood up, bringing me with him and then setting me on my feet as if I weighed nothing. “You’re moving out.”
I laughed. “Shut up.” He didn’t smile. “Okay, where are we going? Mexico?”
“You’re moving back to Mark and Pam’s, and then you’ll be back at the dorms for fall semester.”
“Trav … what the fuck, our wedding is in a week!”
“Ssshhh,” he said, holding out his hands to me and looking around. “You think I want to do this? This is the last resort. It’s the only way I can protect you.”
“So, you’re saying you want a divorce?”
He winced and looked to the ground. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat for a moment before he cleared it. “We can get an annulment. Easily done for a Vegas wedding.”
“No,” I shook my head. “No, I won’t agree to it.”
Travis reached for me, and I became small in his arms, ducking my head and pressing my cheek against his shirt. My hands were together at my chest, my fingers intertwined.
“I love you more than anything, Pidge. More than my own life. When I go to prison, I’m going to lose you, anyway, so I need to do this. I have to save you.”
“You don’t mean it. Take it back.”
“This is going to happen, and when it does, I don’t want you anywhere near me. We’ll say I came to you after the fight and asked you to marry me. We flew to Vegas and you had no idea. I lied to you about it all. I used you for an alibi.”
“I’ve already told them I asked you to marry me, Travis!”
“Then I’ll think of something else.”
The finality in his tone gutted me. My bottom lip quivered. “Please don’t.”
He squeezed me to him. “You will always be my wife. I will never love anyone but you. And who knows, by the time I get out”—he paused to clear his throat—“if you’re not with anyone, and you don’t still hate me for this”—his voice cracked—“maybe we can try again.”
“You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere.” I looked up at him. “You’re my husband. ’Til death do us part, remember? For better, for worse?”
“You think I wanna do this? I don’t! It’s fucking killing me to say or do anything to cause that hurt look on your face. I fucking hate this! But if I don’t? You’ll go to prison, too, and I can’t live with that. I can’t.”
“And what if I go, anyway? What then?”
He ran his hand over his buzzed hair. “You won’t. I lied to you. You told the Feds what you thought you knew. No one will know any different.”
“The reporters will!”
“They’re too scared to talk. Nothing changes who you are or who you know. I’ll make sure they’re reminded.”
He let me go only to interweave his fingers with mine. “C’mon. We need to get you packed.”
I slapped his hand away. “No! We’re going to cancel our wedding and get an annulment instead? And you expect me to keep going to school here—everyone talking about how you went to prison but divorced me, first? You expect me to stick around when every fucking thing will remind me of you? No!”
“Pigeon …”
I held my middle, my eyes burning, my throat feeling tight. I was in a full-blown panic. All this time, and through everything, Travis had only fought for me. He’d never once walked away, until now.
“I’ve never loved anything as much as I love being your wife. You can’t take that away from me, Travis Maddox. You can’t make me fall in love with you, make me feel happier than I have in my whole life, and then take it away. Even if I have to spend some time behind bars, it won’t be that long, and I know one of these days you’ll be out, and we can pick up where we left off. But at least,” my face crumbled, “I still get to be your wife.”
A single tear welled up in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheek, quickly falling to his jawline and then staining his shirt. He reached out with one hand, touching his palm to my cheek. “I won’t be able to bear the thought of you in there. The only way I can get through this is if I know you’re free and happy.”
I shook my head. “I won’t be happy.”
“But you’ll be safe.”
I couldn’t hold in the tears any longer. I wept, my chest caving in with each sob, leaning my face against his hand. I was sure there were words I should be saying, but they were lost somewhere deep beneath the pain and betrayal I felt. I wiped my cheeks and then looked down, seeing the key fob sticking out of Travis’s jeans pocket.
“You’ve made me promise over and over that I won’t leave, just to kick me out and divorce me?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“That’s exactly what this is.” Before Travis could react, I snatched the keys. “Pack it your fucking self.”
“Pidge!” he called after me.
I made a beeline for the car, jogging the last ten steps or so, and locking the door as soon as I slid behind the wheel. I turned the key just as Travis arrived at my window.
He tapped on the glass with his palm in a panic. “You’re upset, I don’t want you driving.”
I backed away from the curb, but Travis stayed at my door, banging on the glass.
“Pigeon, my bike keys are on that keychain. I can’t … Pidge! God dammit!” He yelled as I pulled away.
From the rearview mirror, I could see him standing under the parking lot lights, his hands on his head.
I drove around for an hour, wiping my eyes so often the tender skin beneath them began to feel raw. America was out of town, so there was only one other person I could go to.
The blinker was the only sound in the car as I took the next exit and turned around, going back the way I came. Finch’s apartment was halfway between where I was and home. I could be there in ten or fifteen minutes. I pressed the button on the steering wheel and then directed my phone to call Finch.
His phone rang over my speakers, and just when I thought he might not pick up, he answered. “Hey, betch.”
“Are you home?” I said, sniffing.
“Oh, my Gawd! Yes! Yes, get your ass over here!”
He hung up on me, and I couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t even ask me what was wrong or where I was. He knew what I needed without knowing what I needed, like every best friend should.
I pulled into his apartment complex and parked.
Before I could get out, Finch stepped out onto his stoop, wearing only boxer briefs and an open robe. A cigarette hung from his lips as he waited for me, arms wide open. No matter how quickly my world was ending, it was difficult not to smile at the sight of him.
“Baby!” he said, hugging me as I reached the top of the stairs. He leaned back, taking a drag from his cigarette and then blowing the smoke to the side of me. His bottom lip jutted out. “Do not tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.”
Just then, a tall, tank of a man with shoulder-length hair arrived in the doorway.
“Oh! This is Felix. Felix, say hi.”
Felix held out his large hand to shake mine.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
Felix’s eyes were full of empathy. “I’m so sorry you’re sad, Abby.” He kissed Finch’s cheek goodbye and then waved to me.
“Th-thank you,” I said, watching him walk down the stairs to the parking lot. I looked to my friend, who was watching him, too, but with a smile. “Finch and Felix?” I asked.
Finch’s smile disappeared, “Oh, shut the hell up and come cry on my couch. It’s too late for Mimosas so I’m making pom-tinis.”
I followed him in, closing the door behind me. Travis and I had helped him move in one Saturday, but I hadn’t seen it since he put it all together. And it was … very Finch.
Clean and minimalist but with a touch of modern. Books stacked in single file up the wall next to the hallway door, plants in every space, large, cushy throw pillows on the couch begging me to cuddle them.
So, I did.
Finch busied himself in the kitchen, talking to me over the bar.
“So, fight with Travis. He had the … you know, the thing tonight. Was it about that?”
“Yes.” I sniffed. “He wants a divorce.”
“Ah, he’s trying to spare you.”
“I guess,” I said, wiping my nose with my sleeve.
“Dear God, there are tissues right there, Abby. You’re not a toddler, use them.”
I leaned over to his white side table and pulled a few tissues from the box. “Felix seems nice.”
“He is nice. The nicest man I’ve ever dated. He never gets jealous, or mad. Ever. He just … communicates. It’s bizarre! I need a little drama. I mean, c’mon, it’s me.”
“Maybe you’re just comfortable in the chaos. Maybe you need to realize that peace isn’t boring. What I wouldn’t give for a little peace.” I dabbed my eyes.
Finch brought our drinks in martini glasses and placed them on the coffee table—atop coasters, of course—before sitting next to me. He stared at me for a minute and then gestured to the drinks. “Well? They’re not going to drink themselves.”
“Oh,” I said, taking a sip, then a bigger one. “Oh. That’s good. That’s really good.” I sat back and took a deep breath.
“Honey, Travis doesn’t want a divorce. He’s a wolf in a trap right now. He’s lashing out.”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t like that. He was devastated. He was apologizing and crying and said that maybe one of these days, when he comes back and I don’t hate him, we can try again.”
Finch rested his elbow on the back of the couch, his jaw on his palm, narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, deep in thought. “Travis Maddox was … crying? Okay, he thinks he’s doing this for your own good, but he still doesn’t want to.”
“That isn’t going to stop him, though. I begged him, assured him it was going to be okay, that we’d figure it out like we always do. Nothing worked. He’s set on it.” I felt my eyes burn with tears again.
“He’s not set on it, sister. He loves you. Your wedding is next week, for fuck’s sake. Which, by the way, thanks for scheduling it on my dad’s 60th birthday. Brilliant.”
“It’s my anniversary.”
“No excuse!” he said, pointing in the air.
“Was my anniversary,” I said with a sigh.
Finch brought his hand back down, tapping his lip with his index finger. “You’ve never been broken up with before, have you?”
I sighed in frustration. “No, but this isn’t a breakup, Finch, this is divorce. My husband is divorcing me. I have to figure out a way to fix this. You have to help me! How do I fix this?”
“You can’t.”
I blinked, not expecting his answer. “What?”
He placed his hand on top of mine. “You can’t, honey.”
“Really? That’s what you’re going to say to me right now?” I asked, heartbroken.
“You haven’t known that side of love.” He stared off across the room, but he wasn’t looking at the books or walls or credenza. Finch was years away. “You give your heart to someone, hoping to Christ they take care of it, but you have no control. It doesn’t matter how much you love them, how much reassurance you give them, or how many promises they make you. Six months from now or an hour from now, they can leave. They can betray you, stomp all over that fragile thing you handed over to them, as many times as you let them, and convince you to forgive them just to hurt you again. They can look you straight in the eyes and tell you they love you, knowing damn well what they’re doing when you’re not around is anything but love.
“Or, like Travis, they can walk away because they think it’s best, and there’s not a thing you can do about it … except cry. You just cry until it doesn’t hurt anymore. That’s love. You give your heart away over and over to be bruised and shattered until one day you find someone who finally—finally—protects it.” He blinked and wiped a single tear from his cheek and then smiled. “Whew! Took me back!”
“I don’t want to cry,” I said, my bottom lip quivering.
Finch shrugged, empathy in his eyes. “No one does, baby.”
I broke down again. “Travis said he’d always protect me.”
Finch combed a few fallen strands of hair from my face. “Maybe that’s exactly what he’s doing.”
I sobbed, and then wailed, and never once did Finch shush me. I cried until I was exhausted, and then I lay in his lap while he ran his fingers through my hair and gently rocked his body from side to side.
And still, as I felt myself give way to the exhaustion, I knew this was just the first of twenty-thousand four-hundred and forty days I would cry for him, because there would never come a day when losing him didn’t hurt.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Savior
