Page 106 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

“I know you did, but everything is okay now,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder. “Just checking because you’re not yourself. Wanna talk about it?”

I tried not to tense up, to keep my shoulders relaxed, because this was the first of many lies I would have to tell my wife.

“I’ve just been thinking about our future. About how bad I hurt you just a few days ago and how ashamed I am, because I know … I know everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to nail Brandon to the wall like you said, and we’re both going to move on with our lives, together. I can’t shake the horrible feeling it gives me to know I almost ruined it.”

She pressed her lips to my skin. “I wasn’t going to let you.”

“Thank God.”

“That wedding, though …” she said, her cheek against my shoulder.

“It was perfect. I’m glad we let America go a little crazy. It’s the way it should’ve been.”

“I wouldn’t change any of it.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope,” she said, looking up at me. “We couldn’t stop the fire, but here we are, a year later, more in love than ever … and, in paradise.”

“That wedding night, though,” I said with a grin.

“Think we can try that again?”

“What are you doing right now?”

Abby looked down the beach at our family, who were all in the middle of a friendly game of football. “Is it rude to leave them out here and not hang out?”

I frowned. “This is our honeymoon. They’ll understand.”

“Good point.” She stood, holding out her hands for me to take. “Then what I’m doing right now is you.”

I took her hands, stood, and looked up at the sky. “I love my wife!”

She led me by the hand back to our room, and I reminded her over and over—for hours—how much I loved her. That I meant to keep the promises I’d made, and that I’d never make her regret saving me. Not just the first time when we met, or the second time after the fire, but from myself when I almost made the worst mistake of my life by letting her go.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Last Bastion

Abby

LIKE THE YEAR BEFORE, SHEPLEYwas road tripping it to Wichita. But unlike last time, he was making the trip alone—in severe weather, no less—to spend the weekend with America and her parents the last precious days of spring break. We’d all just gotten back from St. Thomas, but America wanted to make the trip back with Shepley, and he was determined to see his girlfriend smile.

America grew up in Tornado Alley, so she wasn’t nearly as nervous about gnarly clouds and thunder as I was. She knew what to do and would’ve passed on that knowledge to her boyfriend, so if something did happen, of all people, I should be the least worried about Shep. But still … there I sat, glued to my weather app.

Instead of calling Travis, I called America … again.

“Have you heard from him?”

America laughed. “It’s light rain, Abby. The last time we talked, his windshield wipers were on low and they were squeaking over the glass. It’s nothing. I promise, we’re keeping an eye on it.”

“But Mare … it’s calling for hail.”

“I think you have some PTSD from that tornado our senior year. It didn’t even come close,” she said, sounding distracted.

“But we … we saw it. It was huge.” My mind traveled back to that day. It was nightmare fuel, standing on Mark and Pam’s porch, watching a monster fall out of the sky. The funnel wasn’t black like you see in the movies, it was white against the dark blue sky, moving slowly across the horizon, devouring everything in its path. That tornado was the most frightening thing I’d ever seen—until the fire in the basement of Keaton Hall. “There’s a tornado watch in the exact area he’s traveling, and it doesn’t end until after he gets there.”

“The tornado you saw didn’t do much damage, though. It was outside of town, hit a few old barns. No fatalities. Plenty of warning. Listen to me. I promise. I promise he’s paying attention. My parents are, too. No wall clouds, no bubble clouds, we’re fine.”