A Beautiful Wedding (Beautiful, #2.5)(27)

“I still can’t believe Elvis was at your wedding,” Harmony said, giggling.

“Not the dead one,” Kara deadpanned.

“He wasn’t invited this time,” I said, watching the children taking lessons celebrate windsurfing on their own.

“What was it like? Getting married in Vegas?” Harmony asked.

“It was . . .” I said, thinking about the moment we left, almost exactly a year earlier. “Stressful and frightening. I was worried. I cried. It was pretty much perfect.”

Harmony’s expression was one of combined disgust and surprise. “Sounds like it.”


Travis

“Fuck you,” I said, not amused.

“Oh, c’mon!” Shepley said, shaking with laughter. “You used to say I was the whipped one.”

“Fuck you again.”

Shepley turned off the ignition. He had parked the Charger on the far side of Cherry Papa’s parking lot. Home of the fattest, dirtiest strippers in town. “It’s not like you’re going to take one of them home.”

“I promised Pidge. No strippers.”

“I promised you a bachelor party.”

“Dude, let’s just go home. I’m full, tired, and we’ve got a plane to catch in the morning.”

Shepley frowned. “The girls have been lying on a beach in St. Thomas all day, and now they’re probably partying it up in a club.”

I shook my head. “We don’t go to clubs without each other. She wouldn’t do that.”

“She would if America planned it.”

I shook my head again. “No, she f*cking wouldn’t. I’m not going into the strip club. Either pick something else, or take me home.”

Shepley sighed, and squinted his eyes. “What about that?”

I followed his line of sight to the next block over. “A hotel? Shep, I love ya, man, but it’s not a real bachelor party. I’m married. And even if I weren’t, I still wouldn’t have sex with you.”

Shepley shook his head. “There’s a bar in there. It’s not a club. Is that permitted on your long list of marriage rules?”

I frowned. “I just respect my wife. And yes, douche bag, we can go in there.”

“Awesome,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

We walked across the street, and Shepley opened the door. It was pitch-black.

“Uh . . .” I began.

Suddenly the lights turned on. The twins, Taylor and Tyler, threw confetti in my face, music began to blare, and then I saw the worst thing I’d ever seen in my life: Trenton in a man thong, covered in about ten pounds of body glitter. He had on a cheap, yellow wig, and Cami was laughing her head off, cheering him on.

Shepley pushed me in the rest of the way. My dad was on one side of the room, standing next to Thomas. They were both shaking their heads. My uncle Jack was on the other side of Thomas, and then the rest of the room was filled with Sigma Tau brothers and football players.

“I said no strippers,” I said, watching dumbfounded as Trenton danced around the room to Britney Spears.

Shepley burst into laughter. “I know, brother, but looks like the stripping happened before we got here.”

It was a train wreck. My face screwed into disgust as I watched Trenton bump and grind his way across the room—even though I didn’t want to. Everyone in the room was cheering him on. Cardboard cutouts of tits were hanging from the ceiling, and there was even a booby cake on a table next to my dad. I’d been to several bachelor parties before, and this one had to win some sort of a freak prize.

“Hey,” Trenton said, breathless and sweaty. He pulled a few yellow strands of fake hair from his face.

“Did you lose a bet?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Taylor and Tyler were across the room, slapping their knees and laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

I slapped Trenton’s ass. “You look hot, bro.”

“Thanks,” he said. The music started and he shook his hips at me. I pushed him away, and, undeterred, he danced across the room to entertain the crowd.

I looked at Shepley. “I can’t wait to watch you explain this to Abby.”

He smiled. “She’s your wife. You do it.”

For the next four hours, we drank, and talked, and watched Trenton make a complete ass out of himself. My dad, as expected, cut out early. He, along with my other brothers, had a plane to catch. We were all flying to St. Thomas in the morning for the renewal of my vows.

For the last year, Abby tutored, and I did some personal training at the local gym. We’d managed to save a little after school costs, rent, and the car payment to fly to St. Thomas and stay a few days in a nice hotel. We had plenty of things the money could have gone to, but America kept talking about it and wouldn’t let us drop the idea. Then when America’s parents presented us with the wedding gift/America’s birthday present/anniversary gift, we tried to say no, but America was insistent.

“All right, boys. I’m going to be hurtin’ in the morning if I don’t call it a night.”

Everyone groaned and taunted me with words like whipped and *, but the truth was they were all used to the new, tamer Travis Maddox. I hadn’t put my fist to someone’s face in almost a year.