Maybe if she didn’t try so hard to do everything herself, she’d see that there was a ready-made group of people happy to catch her in her life.
He couldn’t quite say what came over him, but he reached for the green, fringed blanket folded over the arm of the sofa and covered her with it.
“Rach,” he whispered softly. “What’s the code for the door so I can lock up?”
He could’ve texted Molly for it, or Dave, or Gavin, but he figured it was easier just to see if she was awake enough to answer.
She was.
She did.
Then she settled again.
He set his hand against the blanket covering her back and smiled. Then he frowned. Gavin was such a jerk. He’d had this. Had her.
He’d let it slip right through his fingers.
Travis shook his head. Everyone always said Trav was the jerk of the family. And, sure, maybe he’d earned that title. But it was his “responsible” brother who let his family slip through his fingers.
Travis sauntered into the kitchen, washed his glass, and fixed up a full pitcher of margaritas for Rachel.
He left them in the refrigerator with a note:Read the sign lots of times, apologies for the delay.
Because that was the truth.
Chapter Seven
“If you don’t feel like you are screwing your kids up at least once a day…you aren’t doing this mom thing right!” — Letitia, California, USA
Rachel
The one constant in Rachel’s life over the past nine years had been change.
Change in her relationships with her family—her parents hadn’t been happy she decided to move to Denver permanently so the boys could be closer to their dad. Her siblings hadn’t been thrilled, either.
Change in her body—the postpartum phase should’ve lasted a few months,she figured, but eight years in and her metabolism was still messed up.
And change in her goals—it used to be she wanted to be a big shot like her brother Jack, work in a Los Angeles high-rise, and make lotsa money. Now, she settled for her own personal office under the staircase, the kitchen table, sometimes even her bed…wherever her laptop took her.
Life changed. Things flowed in different directions. She got that, embraced it most times.
But Travis bringing her margaritas? Yes, she would embrace it because they were delicious.
She could admit his margaritas were better than hers.
However, they’d spent time together last night like friends. Like she was hanging out with a male friend. A male friend who showed up late with an extra helping of five o’clock shadow that sometimes made her tummy flip and…other things.
That could not happen again,because if it did she might start to feel things more than a tummy flip,and she didn’t have time for more than a tummy flip. Especially not with someone like Travis. If she was going to have tummy flip time with a man, he needed to be a helluva lot more stable.
Filled coffee mug in hand, she opened the refrigerator to grab milk for her coffee and cereal. She stilled.
Travis had left her a whole pitcher of margaritas.
With a note. In bold handwriting slashes from a black ballpoint pen in all capital letters,he apologized for not bringing cocktails sooner.
What did she do with that?
Her lungs released a shaky breath.
