Page 55 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

He sighed. “She’s not his. She’s Trenton’s. They’re perfect for each other. Tommy knew they wouldn’t work out, that’s why he cut her loose.”

“You don’tknowany of that.”

His jaw clenched, but he waited a beat to answer. “I know my brother. I’m just asking that you give her a second chance. Let all that go and start fresh.”

I shook my head, looking at the floor. “I don’t knowwhy I’m so angry. If I knew, maybe I could.”

“Because you’re protective of us. And believe me, Pidge, I love you so much for that. But Trenton’s made his choice. Our only job is to support him.”

I nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll work on it.”

He kissed my forehead. “That’s all I ask.”

We stepped out of the bathroom and I put my game face on, walking straight to Camille. “Can I get you a water or beer or anything?”

“I’m good for now, thanks,” she said with an awkward smile.

I got the distinct feeling she knew we’d been talking about her.

“What?” she asked, her tone border-line defensive.

“Nothing,” I said. My smile faded. “Travis came home early. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Sounds like him,” Camille said with a smirk. Travis joined us and she handed him a bottle of whiskey, a red ribbon tied around its neck. “Happy birthday, anyway.”

Travis kissed her cheek. “Thanks!”

“Hey!” Trenton said, frowning and playfully pushing Travis’s shoulder. “Get your fuckin’ lips off my girl!”

Travis held up his hands. “All right, all right. Just showing my appreciation.”

I grabbed Travis by the hand and brought him to the kitchen, where I sunk twenty candles into the icing of the cake, and then searched the kitchen for a lighter. After opening one drawer after another, I came up empty-handed.

“This is ridiculous,” I seethed. “I’m married to a man who is trying to quit a pack-a-day habit and we have no lighters?”

Travis flicked his lighter and held the flame in front of my face.

I paused, and then snatched it from him and I smiled. “Thank you, my love,” I said quietly.

As I lit the wicks, America turned off the lights.

Travis stood at the breakfast bar over his cake, smiling at the words scrawled with icing on top. He slid his arms around my middle, nuzzling my neck while each new flame flickered.

“Nice cake,” he said, whispering the words on top.

Happy 20th Fucking Birthday, Travis

“Glad you like it. The swearing was America’s idea.”

Travis held up his hand, high-fiving America. “Well done.”

America simply nodded; her arms crossed just above her waist.

Shepley held her, and they swayed playfully as they watched the candles burn. Shepley had the sweetest smile on his face.

I wasn’t sure what he was thinking about, but I knew it involved America.

We sangHappy Birthday, and then Shepley turned up the music.