Page 4 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

“You know what I mean.” I gathered one of the piles into my arms and turned for the door, wondering if Travis felt as content and yet displaced in our new marriage as I did.

"Where you going?" Travis asked, tense.

I motioned with a tiny twist of my upper body toward the hall. “Laundry.” He made a face, and I laughed. “I'll be just down the hall, baby.”

He nodded, but I could tell he was still worried about our marriage being erased somehow, as if it hadn't really happened. That the moment I was out of his sight, he would wake up in bed alone.

I passed the doorway to the living room, stopping less than two feet later to push the folding door aside, revealing the stacked washer and dryer. The unit was loud, yellow tinged, and older than I was, but it worked well enough. I only put in half the load I was holding, knowing the tiny drum couldn’t handle more than that. Just after I poured in the detergent, twisted the knob and closed the lid, someone knocked on the door.

I let the rest of the clothes fall to the floor and stepped over them to hurry across the living room. I peeked out of the peephole and swallowed, taking a moment to gather my thoughts before opening the door.

“Hi,” I said, trying to seem surprised.

The police officers were in plain clothes—meaning they were detectives—and they didn’t seem at all surprised to see me.

“Miss Abernathy?” the one on the left asked. He was round, his belly bulging over his belt buckle, and his worn tweed blazer was a bit small. The badge just over his jacket pocket readGable.

His partner, Williams, was smartly dressed in a purple button-down and matching tie. He crossed his arms, his smooth, dark complexion the opposite of Gable’s rosy skin and freckles.

“I was. I’m Mrs. Maddox now,” I said, knowing Gable was confirming, not asking.

“Oh? We’re looking for Travis Maddox. Your… husband?”

“Yes. He’s here. He’s in the restroom,” I said, hoping Travis couldn’t hear us over the sound of the washer. It would be much easier to cover for him if he stayed hidden in the bedroom. I needed to prepare him. He wasn’t as good of a liar as I was because he hadn’t needed to be. I couldn’t remember him ever telling a lie in the seven months since we’d met.

“Can we step in for a moment? We need to speak with him,” Williams said.

“Is this about the fire?” I asked.

The detectives traded glances, already feeling like they were a step ahead. “Yes,” Gable said. “What can you tell me about it?”

“I saw it on the news. As soon as we unpack, we’re going to his fraternity house. He lost some of his brothers. He’s heartbroken,” I said, knowing that part wasn’t a lie.

“You said you’re his wife,” Gable prompted. “That’s new?”

“We eloped this weekend. To Vegas. We came home early because of the fire.”

Gable narrowed his eyes. “We have a few eyewitnesses who said Travis might’ve been in the building at the time of the fire. They’ve made statements that he was a regular opponent in the, uh”—he looked at his notepad—“floating fight ring.” He enunciated each word as if he were speaking a foreign language.

“I mean ... I guess it’s illegal to lie to you,” I said, hanging on to the edge of the door. The men leaned in, eager to hear my confession. “We’ve been to a few. There’s not a lot to do in Eakins.” I snorted, and then pretended to be uncomfortable and awkward when they didn’t find my joke funny.

Gable leaned over, noticing something behind me. “Mr. Maddox?”

I turned, seeing Travis frozen in the hallway.

“Hi, baby,” I said. “These officers were told you were at the fight this weekend. They’re asking questions.”

“May we come in?” Williams asked.

“Sure,” Travis said, stepping over the pile of clothes I’d left on the floor. He wiped his hands on his pants and offered a firm handshake to Williams first, then Gable as they introduced themselves as detectives. “Travis Maddox.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Gable said, flicking his hand in reaction to the pressure Travis had used during their handshake. Gable stepped in, past me, noticeably wary of the man he was confronting.

“You’ve met my wife,” Travis said as I closed the door behind the detectives.

The men nodded. Williams sniffed. “Did you drive or fly to Vegas?”

“Fly,” we said in unison, then smiled at each other. Travis took my hand as we sat on the couch.