Page 145 of Rock Bottom Girl

“I was just changing. Into my own clothes. Not yours,” I said quickly, trying to stand back up and only succeeding in ripping two more shirts from their hangers.

Travis entered the closet and helped me to my feet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said when I bent to collect the massacred wardrobe.

“I can hang it all back up,” I insisted.

“Marley, relax. They’re just shirts.”

I was more nervous around Travis than I was Amie Jo. His wife was predictable with her aggressive meanness. Travis, on the other hand, a boy I’d wounded deeply in high school, was an unknown.

It might have been the Fireball swimming through my veins, but I was hit with a sudden clarity. I owed this man an apology. Even if he didn’t need to hear it, I needed to say it.

I plucked my dripping dress off of the carpet and stood in front of the sodden puddle and cleared my throat. “Travis, I owe you an apology. Several actually. It’s always bothered me how I ended things with you. I want you to know that I’m sorry for hurting you, and I hope you’ll consider forgiving me.” Booze brave, I blurted out the words.

It was true.

Hurting Travis, who’d never been anything but nice to me, had haunted me. Breaking up with him had been the right thing to do. But I’d been clumsy and artless about it. I’d caused unnecessary pain.

“Marley—” he began. But I plowed on ahead.

“I’d also like to apologize for breaking your leg and ruining your chance at a soccer career in college in a mean-spirited bid for vengeance.”

“Okay—” he began again.

“Against Amie Jo, not you,” I added quickly. “I wasn’t trying to get revenge on you. You were nice.” This was going to go down in the history of worst apologies ever.

He waited a beat, probably to make sure I was done talking.

“I haven’t been holding a grudge. If that’s what you mean,” he said, finally.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He grinned.

“But you ended up back here withAmie Jo.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’d just apologized to him and in the next breath insulted his wife.

Travis laughed and waved me out of the closet. “What makes you think that’s not what I wanted? Culpepper is home. Everyone I love—including my very high-maintenance wife—is here. She’s different with me and the boys than she is to—”

“Everyone else in the universe?”

“Yeah. I’m happy. I adore her, and I love our life.”

“You have a swan in your yard,” I pointed out. “And a twenty-foot-tall family portrait in your foyer.”

“Making Amie Jo happy makes me happy,” he said simply.

Maybe it was as easy as that. Or maybe Amie Jo was a circus acrobat in bed.

I’d hurt Travis, but he’d ended up happier than I could have made him.

“You’re not mad about Homecoming?” I pressed.

“It was an accident,” he assured me.

“Well, the thing with you was. I kinda planned all the rest of it,” I admitted.

He laughed.