Beautiful Disaster 02 Walking Disaster (44 page)

I gave my credit card numbers to the agent, glancing up at Abby after each set. She just listened, amused. I said the expiration date, and it crossed my mind that I was about to pay for two
plane tickets we probably wouldn’t use. Abby did have a hell of a poker face, after all. “Er, yes ma’am. We’ll just pick them up at the desk. Thank you.”

I handed Abby the phone, and she placed it on the night stand.

“You just asked me to marry you,” I said, still waiting for her to admit she wasn’t serious.

“I know.”

“That was the real deal, you know. I just booked two tickets to Vegas for noon tomorrow. So that means we’re getting married tomorrow night.”

“Thank you.”

My eyes narrowed. “You’re going to be Mrs. Maddox when you start classes on Monday.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around.

I raised an eyebrow. “Second thoughts?”

“I’m going to have some serious paperwork to change next week.”

I nodded slowly, cautiously hopeful. “You’re going to marry me tomorrow?”

She grinned. “Uh-huh.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yep.”

“I fucking
love
you!” I grabbed each side of her face, slamming my lips against hers. “I love you so much, Pigeon,” I said, kissing her over and over. Her lips
had trouble keeping up.

“Just remember that in fifty years when I’m still kicking your ass in poker.” She giggled.

“If it means sixty or seventy years with you, baby . . . you have my full permission to do your worst.”

She raised one eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“I bet I won’t.”

Her sweet grin turned into the expression of the confident Abby Abernathy I saw hustling pros at the poker table in Vegas. “Are you confident enough to bet that shiny bike
outside?”

“I’ll put in everything I have. I don’t regret a single second with you, Pidge, and I never will.”

She held out her hand and I took it without hesitation, shaking it once, and then bringing it to my mouth, pressing my lips tenderly against her knuckles.

“Abby Maddox . . . ,” I said, unable to stop smiling.

She hugged me, tensing her shoulders as she squeezed. “Travis and Abby Maddox. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Ring?” I said, frowning.

“We’ll worry about rings later. I sort of sprung this on you.”

“Uh . . .” I trailed off, remembering the box in the drawer. I wondered if giving it to her was even a good idea. A few weeks ago, maybe even a few days ago, Abby might have freaked
out, but we were past that now. I hoped.

“What?”

“Don’t freak out,” I said. “I kind of . . . already took care of that part.”

“What part?”

I stared up at the ceiling and sighed, realizing my mistake too late. “You’re going to freak out.”

“Travis . . .”

I reached for the drawer of the nightstand, and felt around for a moment.

Abby frowned, and then blew her damp hair from her eyes. “What? You bought condoms?”

I laughed once. “No, Pidge,” I said, reaching farther into the drawer. My hand finally touched the familiar corners, and I watched Abby’s expression as I pulled the small box
from its hiding place.

Abby looked down as I placed the small velvet square on my chest, reaching behind me to rest my head on my arm.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“What does it look like?”

“Okay. Let me rephrase the question: When did you get that?”

I inhaled. “A while ago.”

“Trav—”

“I just happened to see it one day, and I knew there was only one place it could belong . . . on your perfect little finger.”

“One day when?”

“Does it matter?”

“Can I see it?” she smiled, her gray irises shining.

Her unexpected reaction caused another wide smile to stretch across my face. “Open it.”

Abby lightly touched the box with one finger, and then grasped the golden seal with both hands, slowly pulling the lid open. Her eyes widened, and then she slammed the lid shut.

“Travis!” she wailed.

“I knew you’d freak out!” I said, sitting up and cupping my hands over hers.

“Are you
insane
?”

“I know. I know what you’re thinking, but I had to. It was The One. And I was right! I haven’t seen one since that was as perfect as this one!” I inwardly cringed, hoping
she didn’t pick up on the fact that I’d just admitted how often I actually looked at rings.

Her eyes popped open, and then she slowly peeled her hands from the case. Trying again, she pulled open the lid, and then plucked the ring from the slit that held it in place.

“It’s . . . my God, it’s amazing,” she whispered as I took her left hand in mine.

“Can I put it on your finger?” I asked, peering up at her. When she nodded, I pressed my lips together, and then slid the silver band over her knuckle, holding it in place for just a
second or two before letting go. “
Now
it’s amazing.”

We both stared at her hand for a moment. It was finally where it belonged.

“You could have put a down payment on a car for this,” she said quietly, as if she had to whisper in the ring’s presence.

I touched her ring finger to my lips, kissing the skin just ahead of her knuckle. “I’ve imagined what this would look like on your hand a million times. Now that it’s there . .
.”

“What?” She smiled, hoping for me to finish.

“I thought I was going to have to sweat five years before I’d feel like this.”

“I wanted it as much as you did. I’ve just got a hell of a poker face,” she said, pressing her lips against mine.

As much as I wanted to undress her until the only thing she had on was my ring, I nestled back against the pillow, and let her rest her body against mine. If there was a way to focus on
something other than the horror of that night, we’d managed it.

A
BBY STOOD ON THE CURB, HER HAND HOLDING THE
only two fingers I had free. The rest were gripping bags or trying to flag
down America.

We had driven the Honda to the airport two days prior, so Shepley had to drop his girlfriend off at her car. America insisted on being the one to pick us up, and everyone knew why. When she
pulled up to the curb, she looked straight ahead. She didn’t even get out to help with the bags.

Abby hobbled to the passenger seat and got in, babying the side she’d just inked with my last name.

I tossed the bags in the hatchback, and then pulled on the handle of the backseat. “Uh . . . ,” I said, pulling on it again. “Open the door, Mare.”

“I don’t think I will,” she said, whipping her head around to glare at me.

She pulled forward a bit, and Abby tensed. “Mare, stop.”

America slammed on the brakes, and raised an eyebrow. “You nearly get my best friend killed at one of your stupid fights, then you bring her to Vegas and marry her when I’m out of
town, so not only can I not be the maid of honor, but I can’t even
witness
it?”

I pulled on the handle again. “C’mon, Mare. I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m married to the love of my life.”

“The love of your life is a Harley!” America seethed. She pulled forward again.

“Not anymore!” I begged.

“America Mason . . . ,” Abby began. She tried to sound intimidating, but America shot a glare in her direction so severe, it left Abby cowering against the door.

The cars behind us honked, but America was too enraged to pay attention.

“Okay!” I said, holding up one hand. “Okay. What if we uh . . . what if we have another wedding this summer? The dress, the invites, the flowers, everything. You can help her
plan it. You can stand next to her, throw her a bachelorette party, whatever you want.”

“It’s not the same!” America growled, but then the tension in her face relaxed a bit. “But it’s a start.” She reached behind her and pulled up the lock.

I yanked on the handle and slid into the seat, careful not to speak again until we reached the apartment.

Shepley was wiping down his Charger when we pulled into the apartment parking lot. “Hey!” He smiled and hugged me first, and then Abby. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Thanks,” Abby said, still feeling uneasy from America’s temper tantrum.

“I guess it’s a good thing America and I were already discussing getting our own place.”

“Oh, you were,” Abby said, cocking her head at her friend. “Looks like we weren’t the only ones making decisions on our own.”

“We were going to talk about it with you,” America said defensively.

“No hurry,” I said. “But I would like some help today getting the rest of Abby’s stuff moved over.”

“Yeah, sure. Brazil just got home. I’ll tell him we need his truck.”

Abby’s eyes darted between the three of us. “Are we going to tell him?”

America couldn’t contain her smug smile. “It’ll be hard to deny with that big-ass rock on your finger.”

I frowned. “You don’t want anyone to know?”

“Well, no, it’s not that. But, we eloped, baby. People are going to freak out.”

“You’re Mrs. Travis Maddox, now. Fuck ’em,” I said without hesitation.

Abby smiled at me, and then looked down at her ring. “That I am. Guess I better represent the family appropriately.”

“Oh, shit,” I said. “We gotta tell Dad.”

Abby’s face turned white. “We do?”

America laughed. “You sure are expecting a lot from her already. Baby steps, Trav, Jesus.”

I sneered at her, still irritated that she wouldn’t let me in the car at the airport.

Abby waited for an answer.

I shrugged. “We don’t have to do it today, but pretty soon, okay? I don’t want him hearing it from anyone else.”

She nodded. “I understand. Let’s just take the weekend and enjoy our first few days as newlyweds without inviting everyone into our marriage just yet.”

I smiled, pulling our luggage from the hatchback of the Honda. “Deal. Except one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Can we spend the first few days looking for a car? I’m pretty sure I promised you a car.”

“Really?” She smiled.

“Pick a color, baby.”

Abby jumped on me again, wrapping her legs and arms around me and covering my face with kisses.

“Oh, stop it, you two,” America said.

Abby dropped to her feet, and America pulled on her wrist. “Let’s go in. I wanna see your tat!”

The girls rushed up the stairs, leaving me and Shepley to the luggage. I helped him with America’s numerous, heavy bags, grabbing mine and Abby’s as well.

We heaved the luggage up the stairs and were grateful that the door had been left open.

Abby was lying on the couch, her jeans unbuttoned and folded over, looking down as America inspected the delicate, black curves along Abby’s skin.

America looked up at Shepley, who was red-faced and sweating. “I’m so glad we’re not crazy, baby.”

“Me, too,” Shepley said. “I hope you wanted these in here, because I’m not taking them back out to the car.”

“I did, thank you.” She smiled sweetly, returning to Abby’s ink.

Shepley puffed as he disappeared into his bedroom, bringing out a bottle of wine in each hand.

“What’s that?” Abby said.

“Your reception,” Shepley said with a wide grin.

ABBY PULLED SLOWLY INTO AN EMPTY PARKING SPACE
, carefully checking each side. She had chosen a brand-new, silver Toyota Camry the day before, and the
few times I could get her behind the wheel, she drove it as if she were secretly borrowing someone’s Lamborghini.

After two stops, she finally put the gearshift in Park, and turned off the engine.

“We’ll have to get a parking sticker,” she said, checking the space on her side again.

“Yes, Pidge. I’ll take care of it,” I said for the fourth time.

I wondered to myself if I should have waited another week or so before adding the stress of a new car. We both knew by the end of the day that the school’s rumor mill would be spreading
the news of our marriage, along with a fictional scandal or two. Abby purposefully wore skinny jeans and a tight-fitting sweater to ward off the inevitable questions about a pregnancy. We might
have gotten married on the fly, but kids were a whole new level, and we were both content to wait.

A few drops fell from the gray, spring sky as we started our trek to our classes across campus. I pulled my red ball cap low on my forehead, and Abby opened her umbrella. We both stared at
Keaton Hall as we passed, noting the yellow tape and blackened brick above each window. Abby grabbed at my coat, and I held her, trying not to think about what had happened.

Shepley heard that Adam had been arrested. I hadn’t said anything to Abby, afraid that I was next, and that it would cause her needless worry.

Part of me thought that the news about the fire would keep unwanted attention from Abby’s ring finger, but I knew that the news of our marriage would be a welcome distraction from the grim
reality of losing classmates in such a horrific way.

Like I expected, when we arrived at the cafeteria, my frat brothers and the football team were congratulating us on our wedding and our impending son.

“I’m not pregnant,” Abby said, shaking her head.

“But . . . you guys are married, right?” Lexi said, dubious.

“Yes,” Abby said simply.

Lexi raised an eyebrow. “I’ll guess we’ll find out the truth soon enough.”

I jerked my head to the side. “Beat it, Lex.”

She ignored me. “I guess you both heard about the fire?”

“A little bit,” Abby said, clearly uncomfortable.

“I heard students were having a party down there. That they’ve been sneaking into basements all year.”

“Is that so?” I asked. From the corner of my eye I could see Abby looking up at me, but I tried not to look too relieved. If that was true, maybe I’d be off the hook.

The rest of the day was spent either being stared at or congratulated. For the first time, I wasn’t stopped between classes by different girls wanting to know my plans for the weekend.
They just watched as I walked by, hesitant to approach someone else’s husband. It was actually kinda nice.