Walking Disaster

but I can’t even
witness
it?”
    I pulled on the handle again. “C’mon, Mare. I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m married to the love of my life.”
    “The love of your life is a Harley!” America seethed. She pulled forward again.
    “Not anymore!” I begged.
    “America Mason . . . ,” Abby began. She tried to sound intimidating, but America shot a glare in her direction so severe, it left Abby cowering against the door.
    The cars behind us honked, but America was too enraged to pay attention.
    “Okay!” I said, holding up one hand. “Okay. What if we uh . . . what if we have another wedding this summer? The dress, the invites, the flowers, everything. You can help her
plan it. You can stand next to her, throw her a bachelorette party, whatever you want.”
    “It’s not the same!” America growled, but then the tension in her face relaxed a bit. “But it’s a start.” She reached behind her and pulled up the lock.
    I yanked on the handle and slid into the seat, careful not to speak again until we reached the apartment.
    Shepley was wiping down his Charger when we pulled into the apartment parking lot. “Hey!” He smiled and hugged me first, and then Abby. “Congratulations, you two.”
    “Thanks,” Abby said, still feeling uneasy from America’s temper tantrum.
    “I guess it’s a good thing America and I were already discussing getting our own place.”
    “Oh, you were,” Abby said, cocking her head at her friend. “Looks like we weren’t the only ones making decisions on our own.”
    “We were going to talk about it with you,” America said defensively.
    “No hurry,” I said. “But I would like some help today getting the rest of Abby’s stuff moved over.”
    “Yeah, sure. Brazil just got home. I’ll tell him we need his truck.”
    Abby’s eyes darted between the three of us. “Are we going to tell him?”
    America couldn’t contain her smug smile. “It’ll be hard to deny with that big-ass rock on your finger.”
    I frowned. “You don’t want anyone to know?”
    “Well, no, it’s not that. But, we eloped, baby. People are going to freak out.”
    “You’re Mrs. Travis Maddox, now. Fuck ’em,” I said without hesitation.
    Abby smiled at me, and then looked down at her ring. “That I am. Guess I better represent the family appropriately.”
    “Oh, shit,” I said. “We gotta tell Dad.”
    Abby’s face turned white. “We do?”
    America laughed. “You sure are expecting a lot from her already. Baby steps, Trav, Jesus.”
    I sneered at her, still irritated that she wouldn’t let me in the car at the airport.
    Abby waited for an answer.
    I shrugged. “We don’t have to do it today, but pretty soon, okay? I don’t want him hearing it from anyone else.”
    She nodded. “I understand. Let’s just take the weekend and enjoy our first few days as newlyweds without inviting everyone into our marriage just yet.”
    I smiled, pulling our luggage from the hatchback of the Honda. “Deal. Except one thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Can we spend the first few days looking for a car? I’m pretty sure I promised you a car.”
    “Really?” She smiled.
    “Pick a color, baby.”
    Abby jumped on me again, wrapping her legs and arms around me and covering my face with kisses.
    “Oh, stop it, you two,” America said.
    Abby dropped to her feet, and America pulled on her wrist. “Let’s go in. I wanna see your tat!”
    The girls rushed up the stairs, leaving me and Shepley to the luggage. I helped him with America’s numerous, heavy bags, grabbing mine and Abby’s as well.
    We heaved the luggage up the stairs and were grateful that the door had been left open.
    Abby was lying on the couch, her jeans unbuttoned and folded over, looking down as America inspected the delicate, black curves along Abby’s skin.
    America looked up at Shepley, who was red-faced and sweating. “I’m so glad we’re not crazy, baby.”
    “Me, too,” Shepley said. “I hope you wanted these in here, because I’m not taking them back out to the car.”
    “I did, thank you.” She smiled sweetly, returning to Abby’s ink.
    Shepley puffed as he disappeared into his bedroom, bringing out a bottle of wine in each hand.
    “What’s that?” Abby said.
    “Your reception,” Shepley said with a wide grin.
    ABBY PULLED SLOWLY INTO AN EMPTY PARKING SPACE , carefully checking each side. She had chosen a brand-new, silver Toyota Camry the day before, and the
few times I could get her