Page 100 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

Travis laughed once without humor. “He went tothem. 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 fuckinghatethis! 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?”