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Mr. Mott poked his head out from behind his door, searching for the source of commotion.
I tapped on Travis’s shoulder, and he lowered me to the tiled floor.
Mr. Mott offered a small smile for our celebration, I nodded, and he disappeared behind his door again.
Travis mouthed,You’re a bad ass!
I grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall.
When we burst from the glass double doors of the Nagle Building for Math & Sciences, Travis continued whooping and hollering. “My wife’s a fucking genius!” He pulled me to his side and planted a quick peck on my cheek.
“Thank you for coming, Trav. You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did.”
He beamed. “I wouldn’t miss it, Pidge. We should celebrate. Dinner?”
I paused. “Maybe we should cook?”
His mouth pulled to the side in a half-grin, half smart-ass expression. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of one-hundred-dollar bills.
My mouth fell open. “What the hell is that?”
“Mrs. Throckmorton said congratulations on making it through my sophomore year of college.”
“She just gave you …” I looked down. “Five hundred dollars?”
“Yep,” he rolled up the bills and stuffed them back in his pocket. “So where am I taking you tonight?”
“We should probably save that for …”
“Pigeon. Let me be a man and take my wife out to celebrate, please?”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. “Somewhere I can wear a dress and not look ridiculous.”
The other students began spilling out of the double doors and down the steps, parting once they reached Travis and me.
He only thought for a few seconds before his brows pulled together. There was only one nice restaurant in town: Biasetti’s.
Immediately, regret washed over me.
Travis made a face. “You thinking Biasetti’s? Parker’s parents’ place?”
Travis was still raw from my coffee not-date before the poker game. I knew better than to make such a stupid mistake.
I shook my head. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. We don’t have to go there.”
He stared at me a moment, and I could almost see the wheels spinning behind his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. “It is the nicest place in town, and I’m dyin’ to see you in a dress. It’s about time we make our own memories there, don’t you think?”
“It’s okay, Trav. We can drive to Chicago and spend the night. Go somewhere so fancy we can’t pronounce the food.”
“Pidge, that’s over an hour away.” He narrowed his eyes at me, and then smiled. “You wanna wear a dress and eat fancy pasta? Then you’re gonna wear a dress and eat fancy pasta. Mrs. Maddox gets whatever she wants.”
He lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder. I protested, but he ignored me, tromping down the steps, taking the path toward the parking lot. “Because why?”
I squealed. “Put me down!”
“Say it!” he said, playfully smacking my backside.
I squealed again, so overcome with laughter I could barely speak. “Because you’re the best husband ever.”
