Page 67 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

“I’ll take it.”

“Oh. Really? That’s great.”

“You’re right; the view sells the place. It’s small and dated, but I’m not home that much anyway.”

“I know some fabulous designers who could spruce up the place. Full disclosure, my husband runs his own firm, but we have recommendations we can share.”

His husband.

The word bounces around my head in new ways. Cozy warmth spreads through me.

“I’d like to meet your husband.”

“He’d like to meet you too. He was very excited to hear that I had an appointment with you. He’s the sports guy between us.”

“That’s nice.”’

“Oh,” Cameron says. “Did I mention the fireplace was converted to gas? Very cozy for these winter months.”

I turn around and imagine the living room furnished, the fire going, a game on the TV, and Travis, lounging in those too-thin pajama pants of his, gesturing for me to join him. We’ll cuddle and watch the game, then we’ll cook dinner together, then we’ll… My body heats in an embarrassing way and I have to turn away to hide the effect these thoughts are having on me.

“Let’s do it.”

After doing the paperwork and having lunch with Cameron, he deposits me back at the temporary housing. I can’t believe I just put an offer in on a place in Chicago. Maybe I should rent for a year. How do I even know this will work out?

Nerves and buyer’s remorse start to sneak in, so I pick up my phone and call the one person who can always help me calm down.

“Beau,” Trav says. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Yeah? Why?”

He chuckles. “Always am. What’s going on with you?”

“I just put in an offer on an apartment.”

“And you’re freaking out about it?”

“You know me so well.”

“I do. What’s got you in your head about it?”

“What if I’m traded again? What if I hate the neighborhood? What if my neighbors are too loud or mean or conservative?”

Travis laughs softly. “Beau. Babe. It’s gonna be fine. Real estate isn’t a life sentence and the money we make gives us options. Besides, it’s a good investment. You can always rent it out if you don’t like it, and before you say you don’t want to be a landlord, there are companies for that.”

“You’re right.” I exhale slowly. “I can do this.”

“Is it a nice place?”

“Hopefully you’ll find out when you get here.”

“Twenty-seven days, my guy.”

“Not that we’re counting.”

Travis is quiet for a few seconds, long enough I look at the phone to make sure we’re still connected.

“I fucking miss you,” he says softly. “And I’m trying like hell to deal with it.”