A Beautiful Wedding (Beautiful, #2.5)(29)

They all laughed, and popped their shots.

America turned a page and read the next question. “When does Travis want to have kids?”

“Oh,” I blew through my lips. “In seven . . . eight years?”

“A year after graduation.”

Kara and Harmony made the same face, their mouths forming “oh.”

“I’ll drink,” I said. “But he and I will have to talk about that one some more.”

America shook her head. “This is a prewedding game, Abby. You should be much better at this.”

“Shut up. Continue.”

Kara pointed. “Technically she can’t shut up and continue.”

“Shut up,” American and I said in unison.

“Next question!” America said. “What do you think Travis’s favorite moment of your relationship was?”

“The night he won the bet and I moved in?”

“Correct again!” America said.

“This is so sweet. I can’t take it,” Harmony said.

“Drink! Next question,” I said, smiling.

“What is one thing Travis said he’ll never forget that you’ve said to him?”

“Wow. I have no idea.”

Kara leaned in. “Just guess.”

“The first time I said I loved him?”

America narrowed her eyes, thinking. “Technically, you’re wrong. He said it was the time you told Parker you loved Travis!” America burst into laughter, and so did the rest of us. “Drink!”

America turned another page. “What is the one item Travis can’t live without?”

“His motorcycle.”

“Correct!”

“Where was your first date?”

“Technically it was the Pizza Shack.”

“Correct!” America said again.

“Ask her something more difficult, or we’re going to get hammered,” Kara said, throwing back another shot.

“Hmmm . . .” America said, thumbing through the pages. “Oh, here we go. What do you think Abby’s favorite thing about you is?”

“What kind of question is that?” I asked. They watched me expectantly. “Um . . . my favorite thing about him is the way he always touches me when we sit together, but I bet he said his tats.”

“Damn it!” America said. “Correct!” They drank, and I clapped to celebrate my small victory.

“One more,” America said. “What does Travis think your favorite present from him is?”

I paused for a few seconds. “That’s easy. The scrapbook he got me for Valentine’s Day this year. Now, drink!”

Everyone laughed, and even though it was their turn, I shared the last shot with them.

Harmony wiped her mouth with a napkin, and helped me to collect the empty cups and place them on the tray. “What’s the plan now, Mare?”

America fidgeted, clearly excited about what she was about to say. “We hit the clubs, that’s what.”

I shook my head. “No way. We talked about this.”

America stuck out her lip.

“Don’t,” I said. “I’m here to renew my vows, not to get a divorce. Think of something else.”

“Why doesn’t he trust you?” America said, her voice very closely resembling a whine.

“If I really wanted to go, I would go. I just respect my husband, and I would rather get along than sit in a smoky club with lights that give me a headache. It would just make him wonder what went on, and I’d rather not go there. It’s worked so far.”

“I respect Shepley. I still go to clubs without him.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Only because I haven’t wanted to, yet. Tonight, I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

America’s brows pulled together. “Fine. Plan B. Poker night?”

“Very funny.”

Harmony’s face lit up. “I saw a flyer for movie night tonight at Honeymoon Beach! They bring a screen right on the water.”

America made a face. “Boring.”

“No, I think it sounds fun. When does it start?”

Harmony checked her watch, and then her face fell, deflated. “In fifteen minutes.”

“We can make it!” I said, grabbing my purse. “Check please!”


Travis

“Calm your tits, dude,” Shepley said. He looked down at my fingers nervously beating against the metal armrest. We had landed safely and taxied in, but for whatever reason they weren’t ready to let us off yet. Everyone was quietly waiting for that one, tiny ding that meant freedom. Something about the ding of the fasten seat belt light that made everyone jump up and scramble to get their carry-on luggage and stand in line. I actually had a reason to be in a hurry, though, so the wait was particularly irritating.

“What the f*ck is taking so long?” I said, maybe a little too loud. A woman in front of us with a grade-school-age kid turned slowly to give me a look. “Sorry.” She faced forward in a huff.

I looked down at my watch. “We’re going to be late.”

“No we’re not,” Shepley said in his typical smooth and calming voice. “We’ve still got plenty of time.”