Free Endlessly Beautiful (Beautiful #1.3) by Jamie McGuire Page B

watched me climb into bed next to him. I slid between the sheets, and just as he reached for me, I turned onto my side, facing away from him. It was a strange feeling, being mad at him, but knowing I couldn’t just catch a ride from America back to my dorm room. There would be no more break ups, no more fighting that lead to anything other than make-up sex and forgiveness. A big part of me felt relief, but the ring around my finger felt tight in that moment. Too tight.
    I pulled it off, and sat it on the night stand.
    Travis sat up. “What the fuck?” he said loudly.
    I didn’t turn to face him, but the boom of his voice and his quick movement startled me. “It’s uncomfortable to sleep in.”
    Even with my back turned, I knew he was frowning. “Since when?”
    I sighed. “Travis, please. I’m tired.”
    “Put on your ring, Pidge.” He wasn’t demanding. He was begging.
    I swallowed. I had three choices. To ignore him—making a statement about my independence while simultaneously breaking his heart; to give in and continue lying, or, to give in and tell him the truth—also breaking his heart. I loved him more than anything, but I was still just nineteen. No matter how much I wanted to be, I wasn’t ready to be married. Most of the time, when I was feeling particularly panicked about it, I tried to pretend we were still just dating. But at times like this, I couldn’t. Travis wanted that level of commitment, and I wanted Travis. Marriage would eventually happen, but psychologically, I was still getting used to the seriousness of the choice I’d made.
    “Abby,” he prompted. “You promised.”
    I reached for the small metal circle, and shoved it on my finger. Jim had whispered in my ear one afternoon that marriage was all about compromise, but sometimes compromise felt like self-inflicted coercion. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
    He lay back down, snuggling up behind me, holding me close. I closed my eyes, the ring squeezing my finger, and Travis squeezing me. The air felt dry, my throat felt tight. I pushed away from him and scrambled from our bed.
    “I just,” I began, breathing hard. “I thought you were finished with that.”
    “You’re mad.”
    “Yes, I’m mad! And disappointed! And afraid!”
    He looked horrified. “Pidge, I would never—”
    “I know!” I yelled, closing my eyes. I took a deep breath, my next words softer. “I know. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve never been afraid of you. What I mean is that you’re not just a college kid anymore who can throw punches whenever he wants. You’re my husband. I love that I feel safe with you no matter where we go. I love that you would protect me no matter what. You’d never let anything happen to me. But I need you to keep your head down. Don’t you remember? We’ve had this conversation. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”
    He reached out to me, the memory making a small smile appear on his worried face. “C’mere.”
    When I didn’t give in immediately, he became nervous. “What do you need from me, Pidge?”
    “I need,” I winced. “I need you to grow up, Travis. You don’t have to be the biggest badass in town anymore. You don’t have anything to prove. It takes more strength to show restraint.”
    He looked down, breathing out like the air had been knocked out of him. “He insulted you.” He looked up at me. “He insulted my wife. I’ve beaten somebody’s ass for less.”
    “That was before,” I said, crawling into bed next to him. I cupped his jaw, meeting his gaze. “Before the wedding. Before, when you traded punches for a living and had a reputation to uphold. Before the fire. Everything is different now. We have to be careful.”
    He thought about my words as he pulled my hands away from his face, bringing my ring finger up to his lips. “I can be careful.” He kissed down my palm to my wrist, and then up my arm, a mischievous grin turning up the corners of his mouth.
    I suppressed a grin.