Page 18 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

“Always good to see you, Finch,” I said, waving with my free hand.

I walked Abby to the building where she had her first class, and after kissing her in a way that would let anyone who saw know she was my wife, I watched her walk up the stairs and disappear behind glass double doors.

Shepley slapped me on the shoulder. “They grow up so fast.”

I shrugged away from his grip. “Fuck off, shit sack.”

Shepley chuckled. “One of the sisters from Sig Cap already asked America if the rumor was true.”

I frowned. “What rumor?”

Shepley stared at me as if I were an imbecile. “That you’re off the market.”

“I’ve been off the market since I met Abby,” I grumbled.

Shepley had framed the information he was passing on as forlorn coeds seeking confirmation, but something told me most people couldn’t believe Abby had taken such a huge risk by marrying me.

I’d pretty much had my pick of females on campus, sure, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think any of them saw me as husband material. I’d never admit it, but it was embarrassing that everyone knew I didn’t deserve my wife, and even though I couldn’t deny the truth, I also couldn’t help but feel butthurt about it.

I lit a cigarette, adjusted my backpack and began to walk under a gray sky, feeling the cool morning air infiltrate my long-sleeved T-shirt.

Shepley struggled to match my pace, every so often breaking into a short jog. We didn’t speak until we reached the liberal arts building where we both had a class.

I took two steps at a time, finally prompting Shepley to complain.

“For fuck’s sake, Trav. Where’s the fire?”

I turned to face my cousin, clenching my teeth. “What is wrong with you?” I said, under my breath.

Shepley paled. “Sorry, man. Poor choice of words. We’re not late. Class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Why are you rushing?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I said, yanking open the door.

The hall was flooded with students coming and going, flowing past one another until they parted long enough to bypass an obstacle in the center of the walkway: a glass box sitting on top of a podium. Encased inside was a bust of Gerald P. Stymie, the former president of Eastern State, and former member of Sig Tau.

Dr. Stymie rushed Sig Tau with my dad and Uncle Jack, and I had many memories of him dropping by our house often during my formative years. He attended our holiday parties and my mother’s funeral.

He’d died four years after he retired, which was six years before my freshman year of college. I wondered if he would be more disappointed that I had helped orchestrate Eastern’s biggest tragedy or that I wasn’t owning up to my involvement.

The energy was so different from the week before spring break, when everyone was smiling and walked with a bounce in their step. Now the halls were quiet, the air heavy and somber. The girls were wiping away tears, the guys holding them close, all recognizing their own mortality—some for the first time.

“A lot on your mind?” Shepley asked, slipping inside the building behind me. “Like what? Oh. You mean the thing I don’t know about? Or did you just realize marriage is forever?”

I grabbed Shepley’s collar in both fists, shoving him against the nearest wall.

The breath was knocked out of him, and he stared at me, wide-eyed, with his hands up. “Hey!” he said, glowering at me. “I’m on your side!”

I slowly loosened my grip, aware of the curious eyes of passersby. I straightened Shepley’s shirt and patted his shoulder to apologize, and then took a deep breath. “This isn’t funny, Shepley. Any of it. And I’m hanging by a thread, here. Cut me some fuckin’ slack, would ya?”

Shepley took a quick glance around, and then leaned in, keeping his voice low. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Just trying to lighten your mood. But you need to keep a low profile, Travis. Now is not the time to draw attention to yourself.”

I looked over my shoulder at fellow students. Kids, young and stupid like me but without a wife or bills or detectives knocking on their door. Their biggest worries were grades and explaining the credit card bill to their parents.

Abby and I had those silly worries just a few days ago. The wedding had helped me pretend the fire hadn’t happened, but now the aftermath was staring me in the face. The worries of losing Abby to Parker seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, I could lose her for real ... forever.

“You’re right,” I said. I smoothed his shirt, and then patted his cheek, forcing a smile. “You’re right, buddy. I’m sorry.”

“Get to class, dick head,” Shepley said, readjusting his backpack before turning the corner to climb the stairs.