He kissed my forehead, pulling me to his side as we made our way to the terminal. When I caught the eyes of those we passed, I wondered if it was obvious that we were newlyweds, or if they simply noticed the ridiculous grin on Travis’ face, a stark contrast from his shaved head, inked arms and bulging muscles.
The airport was abuzz with excited tourists, the beeping and ringing of slot machines in the air, and people meandering in every direction. I smiled at a young couple holding hands, looking as excited and nervous as Travis and I did when we arrived. I didn’t doubt that they would leave feeling the same mixture of relief and bewilderment that we felt, accomplishing what we had come for.
In the terminal, I thumbed through a magazine, and gently touched Travis’ wildly bouncing knee. His leg froze and I smiled, keeping my eyes on the pictures of celebrities. He was nervous about something, but I waited for him to tell me, knowing he was working it out internally. After a few minutes, his knee bobbed again, but this time he stopped it on his own, and then slowly slumped down into his chair.
“Pigeon?”
“Yeah?”
A few moments passed, and then he sighed. “Nothing.”
The time passed too quickly, and it seemed we had just sat down when our flight number was called to board. A line quickly formed, and we stood up, waiting our turn to show our tickets and walk down the long hall to the airplane that would take us home.
Travis hesitated. “I can’t shake this feeling,” he said under his breath.
“What do you mean? Like a bad feeling?” I said, suddenly nervous.
He turned to me with concern in his eyes, “I have this crazy feeling that once we get home, I’m going to wake up. Like none of this was real.”
I slid my arms around his waist, running my hands up the lean muscles of his back. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
He looked down to his wrist, and then glanced to the thick silver band on his left finger. “I just can’t shake the feeling that the bubble’s going to burst, and I’m going to be lying in my bed alone, wishing you were there with me.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Trav! I’ve dumped someone for you—twice—I’ve picked up and went to Vegas with you—twice—I’ve literally gone through hell and back, married you and branded myself with your name. I’m running out of ideas to prove to you that I’m yours.”
A small smile graced his lips. “I love it when you say that.”
“That I’m yours?” I asked. I leaned up on the balls of my feet, pressing my lips against his. “I. Am. Yours. Mrs. Travis Maddox, forever and always.”
His small smile faded as he looked at the boarding gate and then down to me. “I’m gonna fuck it up, Pigeon. You’re gonna get sick of my shit.”
I laughed. “I’m sick of your shit, now. I still married you.”
“I thought once we got married, that I’d feel a little more reassured about losing you. But I feel like if I get on that plane….”
“Travis? I love you. Let’s go home.”
His eyebrows pulled in. “You won’t leave me, right? Even when I’m a pain in the ass?”
“I vowed in front of God…and Elvis…that I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”
His frown lightened a bit. “This is forever?”
One corner of my mouth turned up. “Would it make you feel better if we made a wager?”
Other passengers began to walk around us, however slowly, watching and listening to our ridiculous conversation. Like all the other times, I was glaringly aware of prying eyes, but this time was different. The only thing I could think about was the peace returning to Travis’ eyes.
“What kind of husband would I be if I bet against my own marriage?”
I smiled. “The stupid kind. Didn’t you listen to your dad when he told you not to bet against me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you’re that sure, huh? You’d bet on it?”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled against his lips. “I’d bet my first born. That’s how sure I am.”
And then the peace returned.
“You can’t be that sure,” he said, the anxiousness absent from his voice.