“Mom should just be glad that Rachel and I are getting along and communicating,” Travis said, stretching out in the leather armchair.
His dad harrumphed. “Your mother can pull problems from thin air. Problems that didn’t exist two minutes prior.”
Pete let out a snore, apparently ready for bed now that he’d emptied the entirety of his bladder all over the property. So it was Re-Pete who hopped up to sit on Travis’s lap.
Aside from his father explaining why Travis shouldn’t consider banging his former sister-in-law, the whole thing had a very Norman Rockwell vibe.
Then again, “banging” was the wrong word. Travis didn’t want to bang Rachel.
Well, he did, because she was gorgeous, and he had been feeling some serious chemistry in the lake. He enjoyed the way she laughed, smelled, and he was pretty much desperate to see how she tasted. But there was more to it than that. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what that was, but there was definitely more.
Dad turned the cut-crystal tumbler around in his palms. “I’ll explain to your mama what we talked about and then maybe we can all get some sleep.” He added a, “Finally,” under his breath.
“So this is less about me and Rachel and more about you wanting some z’s?” Travis asked.
His dad nodded. “Yup. Glad we’re on the same page here.” He stood and set his now-empty glass back on the tray by the liquor.
“My mama needs to take her own advice and mind her own business when it comes to who I’m spending time with,” Travis suggested, hoping that his father would find a way to put a spin on that request that would bring his mother around.
“It’s complicated. You know that.” Dad shook his head and rested his elbows on his knees.
“What’s complicated about me being nice to the mother of my nephews? What’s complicated about wanting to make things a little easier for her?” Travis asked. This wasn’t rhetorical—he really wanted to know.
His mother had never asked him for a list of his previous hookups, previous girlfriends, previous anything. Everything was fine until Travis started interfering with her perception of happily ever after for Gavin. That’s, ultimately, what this boiled down to—Travis couldn’t be with Rachel because Rachel should be with Gavin.
Which, given what both of them had said, discussed, and illustrated, was never going to happen.
They’d trusted Gavin to handle her with care and he’d wrecked it. They wouldn’t trust Travis because they worried he’d wreck it again.
But he wouldn’t.
“Gavin and Rachel aren’t getting back together,” Travis said. Hell, Gavin was now engaged to someone else.
Dad nodded. “You know how your mother gets when she has an idea that something should be a certain way.”
“And she’s worried I’m going to screw that up.”
“No, not that.” Dad wasn’t much of a talker. Travis was pretty sure that’s why he’d married Mama. Mama was the talker in the relationship, which was why she must’ve been really concerned if she sent Dad to have this chat.
Dad sat again, reluctantly this time. “She’s worried that if you and Rachel get into an…involvement…it’ll mean Gavin stops coming around and, eventually, if you and Rachel stop being…involved…then she’ll stop coming around. Then the boys will stop coming around. At the end of the day, it means your mother doesn’t get to see her grandkids.”
“I’d just like to point out that the grandkids are here. Rachel is here. The only one missing is Gavin.” Travis stood. Paced. “Maybe you should be having a little chat with him.”
Dad gave a curt nod. “Not a bad idea.”
Travis studied the blue decorations on the rug as his father left the room. But when he did finally look up, he had two golden retriever puppies staring at him like they were ready to start peeing again.
“You two need to knock it off.” He pointed to one, then the other for good measure.
Then he sighed. Grabbed their leashes, set aside his unfinished glass of scotch, and headed back toward the linen closet where they stored the extra blankets.
Once he changed out the comforter, they could all get some sleep—just like his dad wanted. Unfortunately, the closet for extra bedding was all the way on the other side of the house, so he had to pass by the second study to get there. Yes, the house had two studies—the one his father had met with him in and the one they’d made into a makeshift office for Rachel’s personal use. Mama included it as part of her special let’s-get-her-to-come-along package.
The light was on under the door of the second study when he passed by. He forced himself to keep walking. He got his new bedding and refused to look to see if the light was still on when he moved past again.
It was.
Now, he knew a lot of things. One of the things he knew was that he should keep right on going when he realized the light was on. Should take the dogs and go back to bed. Because if the light was on, then Rachel was in there, and if Rachel was in there, then he wanted to stop in and see how things were going for her.
