“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.”