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“It’s not that much, Pidge. We can knock it all out this evening.”
“I know, it’s just … nothing. Never mind. You know,” I said, taking another long, hard look, “it just hit me how different your room looks from when we met.”
Travis scanned the paint between each corner. Just a few months before, a lone sombrero hung from his wall, now frames holding black and white photographs hung in its place and everywhere else. Moments of us from every stage of our relationship: friends, enemies, and lovers. It wasn’t surprising that in every shot we were smiling or that Travis was touching me in some way.
I'd missed our bedroom, but the last time we were in it I was proposing to Travis, his face smeared with soot from the fire not long before.
A hint of smoke still hung in the air.
“What’s that look?” Travis asked, his body stiffening.
“Nothing,” I said.
“It’s not nothing. I’m going to make you happy; I want you to know that. To believe that. It won’t be that different, except we come home to each other every night. Doesn’t sound that bad …”
I tilted my head. “That bad? Travis, stop. You act as if I’m going to change my mind at any moment.”
“Are you?”
I frowned.
His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
I took a few steps until I was just a couple of inches from him. “Look at me. Right here,” I said, using my index and middle fingers to point to my own eyes. “I won’t change my mind, Trav. I am so,sohappy. I promise.”
His muscles relaxed. “I keep trying to push the thought out of my head, but it won’t go away.”
“It’s been a rollercoaster. I don’t blame you for feeling that way, no one would.”
He nodded and offered a contrived smile. “Okay. I won’t mention it again.”
“Yes, you will. Because if you don’t, I can’t reassure you. And I will, a million times if I have to.”
“God, I love you, Pidge.”
I pushed up on the balls of my feet and kissed the tip of his nose. “I love you. We’d better get this laundry started so we can relax tonight.”
Travis took an empty basket to the end of the hall. The dryer door opened and then the washer, then Travis returned with warm, fresh and dry clothes to fold.
I reached for a towel and began folding it. “Shep and Mare seem to be on board.”
He nodded, and as quickly as he’d relaxed, he seemed to retreat back into his shell.
“Your dad is happy. And no matter what America says, she’s happy, too. Shepley scored a room at Helms Hall. It’s like it was all meant to be.”
“That was … tough,” Travis said.
“Which part?”
“Asking Shep and Mare to lie. Not telling Dad the truth.”
“They weren’t there. They’re not lying … they’re just … forgetting the phone conversation we had before we left. Emotions were high. They don’t remember.”
“I don’t want anyone to get in trouble for me. Least of all you.”
“No one’s getting in trouble. It’s handled.”
Travis met my gaze. “Handled, huh?”
