Gah, she had to stop doing that when they were talking about serious stuff.
“Exclusive is the best.” He gave her a squeeze.
“I’m clean, too,” she said. “And I have the birth control thing covered. I mean, uh, I really do this time. Not like when I was in college. And I had a physical right before we left Denver. All good on that front.”
She might as well have given him two perky thumbs up to top off that morbidly embarrassing data dump.
The song stopped, but they stayed together, holding each other until the next song started. The band played a new rendition of a Bellamy Brothers song she recognized about a man holding a woman against him.
“I’m clean, too, Rach,” he said. “If this is your way of asking.”
Well, it was. A very uncomfortable way of asking.
He hummed along to the song, apparently waiting to see if she had anything else she wanted to add.
She did, more embarrassing data she needed to dump.
Get it all over with in one night.
“If you want to, uh, not use a condom,” she whispered so only he could hear. “Then we…we can just not do that.” She met his gaze. “If you want to,” she added as a quick addendum to her declaration.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, and his words were remarkably neutral given that she’d just embarrassed the hell out of herself.
For a moment, she stood still, not moving to the music.
“Sorry?” she asked, seeming to not understand his question.
“What do you want, Rach?” he asked. “Whatever you want, we’ll do that. I believe you when you say you’ve got it covered. If you want me to cover it, just let me know.”
“You don’t have an opinion on this?” She pulled back from him, earnest. Do you just not care?
“Rach.” His lips brushed hers. “I care about everything when it comes to you. You know I don’t like it when you let people walk all over you, so I’ll speak up about it. I want you to make time for us, so I’ll make sure that happens—even if it means your schedule gets a little fucked in the process. And I want dinner invitations with you and the boys, so I hope we can figure out a way to make that happen for me.” He drew a long breath. “That’s the shit that matters. It’s what I have an opinion about. When it comes to the rest, I’m willing to take your lead.”
“Oh.” She pressed her temple against his chest as he led, but they mostly stayed in a two-foot square holding on to each other.
“Anything else you want to get off your chest tonight?” he asked. “Or should we start heading back?”
They had a little more time before the boys were due back at the house. But she needed to check her email and follow up with any late-night Cassie crises.
She didn’t stir. Didn’t move.
There was more. More she needed to say.
“I didn’t call Gavin back.” This came out as a confession, a choked confession that she whispered into the air at his chest.
“Gavin’s not here.” He traced his fingers up and down her spine and held her tighter, her cheek against his chest. “It’s just you and me.”
“After we hooked up, I wasn’t going to call him back,” she confessed—the confession she’d never told anyone.
Travis stilled. Blood started to thrum in her ears.
“I don’t need to hear this.” He started to step away, but she held firm. “You know how before I said that I’d have some things that mattered to me? This is one of those times where I don’t need to know the details.”
“I need you to hear them, though,” she said, because she really, really did.
The earnestness in her voice apparently made him pause.
“Please,” she continued.
