She did her best to relax, ready to give only the abbreviated version of events.
“I wasn’t going to call him back, even though he called me, like, four times afterward. I ignored the calls until I found out about the pregnancy. Then I called him,” she said. “By that point, he’d moved on. As he should have, since I wasn’t interested.”
Travis hardly moved, but she sallied forth.
“I explained everything, and he said he wanted to get married. I didn’t want to. I mean, I wasn’t even going to call him back, so why would we get married?” She had pulled away a little and was talking with her hands.
“Why did you get married?” Travis asked, that mask of neutrality covering his expression.
“Gavin and I are friendly. Friends, even. Sometimes. Mostly, before Dakota. She didn’t really like that we were friends.” She waved away the thought. “This isn’t about her, though. All of this is in the past. I don’t want to ruin where Gavin and I are as co-parents. But you need to know what happened because it…it affects what we are together.”
“Why did you get married?” Travis asked again.
“He made it clear who your family is. Explained to me that you would all support us as a family.”
“If you got married.” Travis filled in the blank for her.
She nodded. When the divorce had finalized, she swore this was the first and last time she’d ever accept help like that. Owing Gavin cost her more than she was even willing to admit to herself—a whole heap of pride.
“My parents were angry I was pregnant. They were even less thrilled that I decided not to end the pregnancy,” she pressed on. “I convinced myself I could be a good mom on my own. But then there were two babies. How was I supposed to raise two babies? Even if Gavin shared custody.” She swallowed against what felt like a rising tide ready to sweep her away. “Gavin was my nuclear option so my world wouldn’t implode. He stepped in. He offered an alternative. He made it so I didn’t have to make a decision that I really, really didn’t want to make.”
And it cost her only her dignity.
“It’s not his fault we didn’t work out.” Rachel gripped Travis’s arms to hold him in place. “He just…he didn’t forgive me. For not calling him back. For not wanting him. Eventually, I thought we forgave each other for everything. We were both doing the best we could. The divorce wasn’t angry or anything. He took care of the boys, wanted to ensure we stayed comfortable—but I didn’t want alimony.”
“You should’ve taken the money,” he said through gritted teeth, because there was more than enough of the stuff to help her out. She didn’t have to work so hard all the time.
She gulped. No, she wouldn’t do that. She’d spent the last years rebuilding her self-esteem. Proving she could make it herself.
“The thing is…I would’ve called you back,” she said, pressed against his chest. “I had to tell you about what happened, so you’d know what a big deal that is to me.”
His hand pressed against her hair. His breaths jagged pieces of glass slicing through any hardening of her heart she’d used as armor.
“I would’ve called you first,” she whispered again. “I think Gavin will know that. I think he’ll know it if we tell everyone. And I think it’s going to hurt him.” She drew a deep breath. “If it hurts him and he lashes out, it could hurt the boys. I can’t let that happen.”
He pulled away from her, ran a hand through his hair, and paused as he saw the expression on her face. “We should go.”
Her lower lip trembled the smallest amount, a small bit of wet appearing at the edge of her eyelids, but no tears fell. She crossed her arms under her breasts, doing that thing she did to hold herself up.
“You wouldn’t have had to call me, because there’s no way I would’ve been able to walk out the door the next morning. I would’ve ordered pancakes—scratch that, I’d have made you pancakes myself. From scratch. We would’ve spent the whole day together. That’s what we would’ve done.”
She smiled a watery smile. “Are you really that good of a guy, Travis Frank?”
“Don’t let the word get out. I have a reputation to uphold.”
The tear that she’d been holding back finally fell, but it didn’t make it past her cheekbone because he wiped it away with his thumb.
Another fell. He repeated. Another.
Another.
“Don’t cry, sunshine,” he said, still swiping as she hiccupped. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.
She smiled then.
The fact that she was smiling—really smiling, not one of those fake ones she’d gotten so used to using—the smiling was a good thing, but that didn’t change that there was a whole bucket of water falling out of her face.
“What’s going on right now?” he asked.
