“Pigeon?” he said finally.

Oh thank God. He’s going to talk to me about it.

“Yeah?”

He thought about what he might say, and then sighed again. “Nothing.”

Whatever it was, I wanted to fix it. But if he wasn’t thinking about the investigation or facing the aftermath of the fire, I didn’t want to bring it up. Not long after we took our seat, first class was being called to board. Travis and I stood with everyone else to get in line for economy.

Travis shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his neck and squeezing my hand. He so obviously wanted to tell me something. It was eating at him, and I didn’t know what else to do but squeeze his hand back.

When our boarding group began to form a line, Travis hesitated. “I can’t shake this feeling,” he said.

“What do you mean? Like a bad feeling?” I said, suddenly very nervous. I didn’t know if he meant the plane, or Vegas, or going home. Everything that could go wrong between our next step and our arrival back on campus flashed through my mind.

“I have this crazy feeling that once we get home, I’m going to wake up. Like none of this was real.” Concern shone in his eyes, making them glassy.

Of all the things to worry about, and he was worried about losing me, just as I worried about losing him. It was then, in that moment, that I knew we’d done the right thing. That yes, we were young, and yes, we were crazy, but we were as much in love as anyone. We were older than Romeo and Juliet. Older than my grandparents. It might not have been that long ago since we were children, but there were people with ten or more years of experience who still didn’t have it together. We didn’t have it all together, but we had each other, and that was more than enough.

When we returned, it was likely that everyone would be waiting for the breakdown, waiting for the deterioration of a couple married too young. Just imagining the stares and stories and whispers made my skin crawl. It might take a lifetime to prove to everyone that this works. We’d made so many mistakes, and undoubtedly we would make thousands more, but the odds were in our favor. We’d proven them all wrong before.

After a tennis match of worries and reassurances, I finally wrapped my arms around my husband’s neck, touching my lips ever so slightly to his. “I’d bet my firstborn. That’s how sure I am.” This was a wager I wouldn’t lose.

“You can’t be that sure,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow, my mouth pulling to the side. “Wanna bet?”

Travis relaxed, taking his boarding pass from my fingers, and handing it to the attendant.

“Thank you,” she said, scanning it and then handing it back. She did the same to mine, and just as we had little more than twenty-four hours before, we walked hand in hand down the Jetway.