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, not understanding 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, no," 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.
"You're going to have to teach me," I said, sheepish.
"To cook?" Travis asked. I nodded. "But if I teach you, I won't get to cook for you as often."
"Exactly. I want to help."
He grinned, his dimple sinking into his cheek. "Then the answer is no."
I pinched an inch of skin just beneath his arm, giggling when he cried out. America passed by the couch to the loveseat where the remote was barely poking out between the cushions. I thought about warning her that the large detective had kept it warm like a hen sitting on her nest, but before I could, America tugged on the remote until it was finally free. She pointed it at the television, watching as the screen flashed on, instantly displaying the local news. They were still reporting on the fire, the reporter standing in front of Keaton, black stains above the windows while yellow words scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
I touched my throat and swallowed, remembering choking from the smoke, and how terrifying it was to see the flames coming closer. I was confused, lost, and terrified, feeling that death could come at any moment until I heard Travis's voice amid the screams and crying from main room.
America slowly sat down on the loveseat, letting her hands and the remote sag between her legs. "Emily Heathington died in that basement. She was in my water aerobics class," America said, laughing without humor. "She hated the water. She said the thought of going under and having anything between her and a deep breath made her feel claustrophobic. So she took the water aerobics class to try and face her fear. For her to die like that ... it's almost a sick joke."
"Mare," I warned, noticing Travis's expression.
"I'm so glad you weren't there," America said, wiping her cheek. "I don't know what we would have done if something had happened to either of you." She stood, tossing the remote to Travis. "Yes. Even you, asshole."
Travis caught the slender black triangle with one hand, turning back toward the kitchen. He couldn't see over the back couch cushion, but he directed his voice to his cousin, anyway. "Should we go to Sig Tau?"
"I just went," Shepley said. "It's pretty quiet over there. A lot of guys sitting around staring at the floor."
"They were talking about holding a fundraiser," America said.
Travis nodded. "Yes. We should definitely do that."
"Travis," Shepley said. "How are we going to pay the rent now? We're out what we're regularly paid for the summer. We have no more money coming in."
"We get a fuckin' job," Travis said, leaning back.
"Doing what? All you've ever done for money is throw punches. I made phone calls. Are we going to apply at Burger King?"
I frowned at America, but she just shrugged. "You'll figure out something," I said. "I saw an ad for a Calculus tutor on the cork board by the door in class before break. I'm going to look into that."
"Oh yeah," Shepley said with a sigh. "We're splitting rent and bills into thirds now. That'll be a lot easier."
"Your parents pay your bills," Travis grumbled. "Not sure what you're crying about."
"It was nice not to have to ask," Shepley said.
"Shep," Travis began. "I love you, cousin, but one of us is going to have to move out."
"What are you talking about?" Shepley said.
America picked up a throw pillow and tossed it at Shepley. "Quit it! Don't act like you didn't know this was coming the second you found out about their wedding!"
Shepley chuckled. "Sorry. I was going to milk that for as long as I could."
Two lines formed between Travis's brows. Shepley didn't know that Travis already felt bad enough, about a lot of things. Travis exhaled, shaking his head. "We won't find anything that pays that good, I guaranfuckingtee you that."
"Like you said," I said, rubbing his back, "we've got two incomes, now. It's okay that you'll make less. Even by half."
"I'm going to miss that money," Travis said, staring off. "I had a lot of plans for us."
"Like a car?" I asked.
He stifled a smile. "Don't you worry about that."
I playfully smacked him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I've got that covered."
"Did you buy us a car?" I said, sitting up.
I'd never owned a car before. Travis's only mode of transportation was his Harley Night Rod, and although he looked incredibly sexy riding it, it was more than a bit drafty in the winter. We had been relying on Shepley to either give us a ride or let us borrow his car, but now that we were married, that would change. Everything would change. We were no longer college kids who could depend on others for a ride, we were a married couple and there was a certain expectation--mostly on ourselves--to be responsible and self-sufficient.
Marriage was so much more than a ceremony and promises. I had never thought twice about Travis having a roommate when I was just his girlfriend, but marriage made that feel different. Just like not having a vehicle was different, or jobs, or ... the reality of it all began to weigh on me, and I sunk back into the couch.
Travis frowned, concerned with my reaction. "What, baby?" he asked.
Shepley chuckled. "Now you really don't have any money left."
"Now we really don't need you to live here," Travis grumbled.
Shepley wrinkled his nose, looking like he suddenly smelled something revolting. "Well that's fuckin' rude."
Travis scrambled over the couch, tackling his cousin to the tile floor in the kitchen. Shepley grunted when his knee hit the lower cabinet door, and then he yelped as Travis grabbed for his crotch.
"Quit fighting dirty, sack jacker!" Shepley cried.
America lept back, narrowly missing Travis's quickly moving legs. I moved to stand next to her, hooking my arm around hers.
"Are you sure you know what you've gotten yourself into?" she asked. " You're in this, you know. This is yours."
"You're next," I said, tugging on her arm.
"Oh, no. Just because you got married as a freshman doesn't mean the rest of us are crazy." She looked at me, confused. "I still can't understand why you did it. Travis knew the biggest fight of the year was coming up, Adam somehow finds someone else to fight for Trav last minute, the fire breaks out, and you two just happened to decide to elope ..." Recognition flickered in her eyes.
Travis froze, and both boys looked at America, breathing hard.
"Abby," America began, suspicious.
"Mare, don't," I said. "Don't say it. Don't even think it."
"But, I'm right, aren't I?" she asked.
"No," I snapped. "We were on our way to Vegas when the fire broke out. What kind of people would we be if we did something like that?"
"Smart," Shepley said, standing. He brushed off his pants, still trying to catch his breath. His cheeks were flushed from unsuccessfully grappling with his much larger cousin.
Travis stood up, too, sliding his arm around my waist. The four of us traded glances, unsure of what to say next, but in that moment, I knew Travis had to know the truth.
> ***
Thank you again for reading part two of Endlessly Beautiful! I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. I'm going to update every Thursday, so be sure to tune in to your notifications--they'll tell you when it's time to listen in on Travis and Abby's next episode!
If you haven't already, please make sure to vote on this story (each section!), to tell your friends (share with the social media buttons ^ there!), and to pre-order Beautiful Burn: A Novel, on sale January 31! We have a lot of great giveaways going on, so check out my Facebook page (link in my Wattpad bio) for details!
Silver
Plates, pots, and silverware clinked and banged together, muffled by the running water pouring out of the tap. Steam floated from the sink basin as America and I rinsed the few remnants of Travis's trademark Cajun Chicken Pasta from the dishes and placed them into the dishwasher. No one had said much during dinner, in part because Travis was an amazing cook, but mostly because we weren't sure how to talk about the truth without incriminating everyone in the room.
"Was it really the only way?" America asked, handing me a bowl.
"I can't talk about it," I said. "It's better for you if I don't. But if you're wondering ... Yes, I love him, and yes, I am happy to be his wife."
"That's all I needed to know, Abby. I won't ask again."
"That's why you're the best best friend ever."
"That's true. I am. You're so lucky."
I grinned. "I am."
America twisted the dial, and the dishwasher began to buzz and hum. She dried her hands and stood behind me, cupping my shoulders to pull my back against her chest. Her chin gently pressed into the crook of my neck, and then she kissed my cheek, whispering into my ear. "It's going to be fine. I promise."
"I know," I said, still looking down at the sink.
I dumped a small pool of blue dish soap into my palm, scrubbing my already pruny skin. As serious as I had perceived our problems in the past, we were in real trouble, both of us--because if Travis went down, we all would. I had just lied to police detectives, obstructed justice, aided and abetted, not to mention been a willing accessory before, during, and after the fact. But, I was willing to accept the consequences--whatever they were--if it meant Travis had even a chance of not going to prison.
I glanced over my shoulder at my husband. He was standing with his bulky, inked arms crossed over his middle, chatting with his cousin. He turned his white baseball cap backward, shifting his weight from one leg to the other like he couldn't sit still. Shepley had a calming affect on Travis, and he was talking him down from whatever ledge Travis was on. I smiled and looked down at the water running over my hands, washing the suds away, wishing my hands were truly clean.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow through the windowpane that sat over the sink. My view consisted of the parking lot, the apartment units farther down, and the tops of the campus buildings peeking just over the trees a few miles away. The sky was still hazy from the smoke that had bellowed from Keaton Hall just a few days before. The fire was one of the most frightening experiences of my life, but I had lived. The fear that was just a memory for me had consumed the final moments of so many of our classmates. Their screams rang in my ears, and I closed my eyes, trying to make it stop.
I dried my hands and turned, making my way to the hall. I changed over the laundry, adding more and taking the basket full of warm, clean clothes to the bedroom and setting it on the bed. Busy is good.
Travis came in, making the basket bounce when he fell face first onto the bed. He took a few deep breaths and then turned onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling while I walk around our bed to hang my wedding dress on the curtain rod. The bare branches of the tree outside quivered in the wind. I'd watched almost every season change that tree from Travis's bedroom window, and now it was our bedroom window.
"Remind me to take this to the cleaners and have it preserved," I said, smoothing the skirt.
"Preserved? What the hell does that even mean?" he said with a grin.
"To keep it from yellowing. To keep it fresh."
"For what?"
"Forever," I said, returning to the bed. "Like us."
Travis held my gaze for a moment, watching me walk back to him with an appreciative smile.
I resumed the tedious but welcomed task of folding our clothes from Vegas and the towels we'd used after we washed off the smoke and soot from the fire. Travis crossed his arms behind his head and sighed. "I'm not afraid to go to prison, Pidge. I've felt pretty much from the first time I saw you that ... I dunno. It sounds perfectly normal in my head, but I know if I say it out loud ..."
"Just say it."
"I exist for you, Abby. That's it. I've done everything I can do to keep from losing you. What do I do if I never get to see you again? Or get to touch your hair? See the way your eyes look in the sunlight? Feel your wet hair against my arm when I fall asleep at night? I've never been afraid of anything, but that scares me to death."
"You're not going anywhere," I said. I kept my features smooth, but everything he's said was terrifying.
I lined up his socks and folded them into each other. That was Travis and me, one big, knotted bundle. Even when apart, we existed together.
"You can't fix this, Abby," he said. "I'm not going to lie. If I was wrong, I deserve to--"
"Stop," I said, throwing the folded socks at his face. He caught it just before it hit him. "I'm your wife. Your duty is to be here with me, to protect me, to love me. You promised. We've always fought one battle at a time. This is no different."
He nodded, keeping his eyes directed at the ceiling.
He sighed, and then jerked up, planting his feet on the ground. "I can't hang around here. It's making me crazy. Let's go."
"Where?" I asked.
"Pinkerton's."
"The car dealership? No," I said, shaking my head.
Travis smirked. "It's paid for. Just pick a color."
I arched an eyebrow. "Don't mess with me, Maddox."
He changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt and a clean pair of jeans, then bent over to lace up his boots. "We're going," he warned.
I didn't budge from my basket of clothes, but Travis strolled over, bumping me with his hip before pulling out one of my shirts and grabbing a hanger. In less than a minute, we had finished and put away the clothes. I stared at the closet with my arms crossed, pretending to be unimpressed with my choices.
"Just a sweater and jeans, baby. You're beautiful. You don't even have to try."
My cheeks flushed red, and I looked down. Travis was my husband, but he could still make me feel like we'd just met. "They close soon, don't they?"
"What? You don't want a car? Vamos! Get your ass in gear, Mrs. Maddox!"
I giggled, grabbing the first pair of jeans and sweater that I touched, dressing quickly and meeting Travis in the living room. He had Shepley's keys in his hand, his face lighting up when he saw me. He opened the door, gesturing for me to go first.
"You just do that so you can stare at my ass, don't you?" I asked.
"You're damn right I do," Travis said, closing the door behind him.
We walked down the steps holding hands, and I took a deep breath. "Smells like rain."
"Good thing we're taking the Charger, then," he said, opening the passenger side. He waited for me to slide in before jogging around the front to the driver's side. Once he settled in, he held onto the steering wheel and shook his head.
"What?" I asked. "Forget something?"
"Every five minutes or so it hits me, and I can't believe it." He leaned over, cupping my cheeks in his hand before touching his warm lips to mine. He pulled away, twisted the key in the ignition, and then fiddled with the heater. He made a face when the country station came over the station and quickly twisted the knob, settling on whatever station was playing Dexy's Midnight Runners. He bobbed his head, and I laughed at him as he mouthed the words, C'mon Eileen.
<
br /> He pulled the gear shift down, backing out of the spot. He rested his hand on my knee, still singing and bobbing his head to the music. He knew every word. It was sort of impressive. Once in awhile he would look at me and mouth the words with such enthusiasm I couldn't help but sing with him. By the time we reached Pinkerton's, we were practically yelling the chorus to the theme from Dukes of Hazzard. I didn't know all the words, but Travis did, and he sang them like he was on stage entertaining a stadium full of people. I was glad he insisted we leave the apartment. I hadn't realized how trapped I'd felt, or how much I needed to laugh.
Travis parked the car, and stepped out. When I closed the passenger door, he walked ahead of me, reaching behind him with both hands until I intertwined my fingers in his. He wrapped my arms around him, his steps coming to a halt at the end of a short line of Toyota Camrys.
An older gentleman walked out, smoothing his tie and silver hair, preparing his spiel by clearing his throat and offering his most charming smile. Travis's was way better.
To my surprise, he greeted Travis by name. Travis released me to shake his hand. "I was wondering when you'd be out. Is this Abby?" He shook my hand. "Richard. Nice to finally meet you."
I craned my neck at Travis.
Travis shrugged. "I told you. Pick a color."
I choked out a single laugh. "Are you for real?"
He held out his hands and let them fall to his thighs. "Have I ever lied to you?"
I slowly reached around his neck, feeling his muscles relax from my touch. I pushed up on the balls of my feet and gave him a quick peck, seeing Richard in my peripheral trying not to watch.
"Never." I looked down the line of Camrys.
Richard pointed. "Attitude Black, Barcelona Red, Classic Silver, Clearwater Blue, Cosmic Gray, and Sandy Beach Metallic. We don't have the Pearl or Magnetic Gray in stock."
"But he can get it," Travis added.
"Yes, of course," Richard responded.
Travis led me down the line. "Look inside. They all have different interiors."
I walked over to the silver car, opening the driver's side door. "What is that? A television?"
Richard stepped closer. "That's a uh...the navigation system and radio." He continued to ramble off the various features as Travis encouraged me to sit inside. The interior was light gray, and the buttons around the large display screen and on the steering wheel made me think of a NASA control panel. I couldn't imagine ever being familiar with them all.