Chapter Twenty-Five
It was like a hangover, but worse.
Because this awful empty ache wouldn’t go away with coffee, eggs, aspirin, or any of the other tricks. Time was the only cure for this stupid heartbreak, and she was looking at a whole awful lot of seconds, minutes, and hours to get rid of the way she felt for that man.
As she rode faster on the elliptical the next morning, she reasoned that he’d made the task of getting over him a bit easier by acting like such an ass. She scoffed out loud as she recalled the things he’d said in the reception room. Mario Batali waxed on about gnocchi on her TV, as she replayed the way Travis tried to dismiss her. Faster, and faster still she pedaled, as if she could burn him off the way she burned off calories.
The TV show switched to a commercial break. A mattress salesperson appeared on the screen, screaming about the deal he had in his store today.
“This day only!”
The date blared across the TV.
She slammed on the pedals, stopping. Breathing hard. She dropped her head to the handles of the elliptical machine. Today was that stupid fireman’s auction. She had promised to be there with him, helping in the wings with Henry. The image of the sweet dog loosened the knot of anger she’d been nursing all morning. She had trained that dog; she wanted to see him perform. She longed for that moment of pride. She raised her head and gripped the handlebars hard, digging in with her fingers, sending all her frustration into the machine.
She wasn’t even going to be able to enjoy the crowning moment of her job, because there was no way she was walking into the hotel in San Francisco tonight to see the fireman’s auction. To think, she’d mapped out the perfect plan to bid on him and take him off the market, to win him no matter what, and, in return, he had so callously ditched her feelings.
She flipped to the TV menu, hoping there would be a comedy, maybe even a spy flick on tonight. Something, anything, to take her mind off where she would have been.
…
As he jogged home after an early morning workout at the gym, his phone buzzed with a text message.
He peered at the screen in his hand as his feet pounded along the sidewalk near his house. The message was from Hunter and it instructed him to check his email.
He clicked over and scrolled through a few messages, but he didn’t see the man’s name in his inbox. Instead, he spotted an email from the Families of Fallen Firefighters.
Shit. The tension shot sky high in his chest. He feared another note about lack of funds, another plea for help that would go unanswered. He slowed his pace to a walk, took a steadying breath, and read the note.
“A donation of $5000 in your name has been made for a job well done. In addition, a matching donation of $5000 has been made from one of our corporate sponsors. This is a HUGE help in restoring some of the services that our communities have come to rely on, including the one-to-one support we provide families. We are so grateful to you and Hunter, and we will be able to reinstate some of our services immediately.”
He stopped in his tracks.
His jaw fell open. He was sure it clanged loudly on the sidewalk.
He rubbed his eyes, blinked, and read the email again to be certain. The sun blared brightly this morning. Maybe it was playing tricks on his eyes. He peered more closely at the screen. The words were there. The donation was real. Hunter had helped the cause.
That ball of stress in his gut unwound. He felt lighter, freer. While the charity’s future may not have been his burden, he was so damn glad that the organization that had helped his mom to recover could keep doing the good work.
He dialed his biggest client. “That was awfully nice of you. And well beyond the call of duty. To what do I owe the honor?”
“Hey!” Hunter sounded particularly upbeat this morning. “Good to hear from you.”
“Even better to hear from you. Or, I should say, to hear from the Families of Fallen Firefighters. You did an amazing thing, man. You helped out in a big way where it’s needed most.”
Hunter made a pshaw sound as if it were nothing. “Just doing my small part. Least I could do after you came through for me yesterday.”
“I assume this means you followed my advice and took home a tidy sum,” Travis said, resuming his pace.
“Nope. I lost even more money after you left,” Hunter said, sounding oddly jubilant—the complete opposite of how he sounded yesterday.
Travis furrowed his brow as he crossed the street to his block. “You hate losing money. Explain.”
“Correction. I don’t hate losing money. That’s what I realized when you left. I actually like making big bets. I love taking risks. That’s why I play poker and that’s why I do what I do for a living. But the thing is, I was playing poker like it’s my job and it’s not. I don’t want to play the same way I work, and I wasn’t having fun when I was trying to be all controlled and methodical.”
“But that’s what you wanted me to teach you. That’s why you came to me,” Travis said, the sun blazing at him as it rose higher in the morning sky. “So help me out, since you’ve thoroughly confused me.”
“I did want you to teach me how to play better. How to analyze the risks, study the hands, play like a pro. I hired you because I thought I wanted to be some master of the game, and to play like I invest. But then the game became another job. I get enough frustrations at work. I want to play for fun, I want to play without a plan, and sometimes that means I’ll lose a lot of money, and sometimes I’ll win, and sometimes I’ll break even.”
“Hey, I’m glad you’re happy, though I have no idea what I did to get you there.”
“If you hadn’t talked frankly to me I wouldn’t have been able to see that I needed to do the opposite. You said you’d be happy when I no longer needed you. And I don’t need you anymore, because now I’m just playing to have fun. So in a roundabout way, your final kick in the pants was exactly what I needed, and that’s why I wanted to thank you.”
“And fire me, too,” Travis said with a laugh, as he reached his porch and took out his key.
“I hope you’re cool with it.”
“I couldn’t be happier that you no longer need me. And thank you for the donation. You didn’t need to do that, but I appreciate it,” he said. “And it sounds like you’re going to have a blast playing cards without a plan.”
“I am,” Hunter said, and they said good-bye as Travis walked inside his home.
Henry ran to greet him. As Travis refilled the dog’s water bowl, he scratched Henry between the ears. “Buddy, we’ve got a lot of work to do. You know that?”
Henry raised an ear as if he were listening.
“Somebody just did something special for us. So now it’s our turn,” he said, then stood up. But really, it was his turn. Hunter had given him a beautiful gift. Like a fairy godmother in the stories Travis had read to Megan when he was younger, the man had swooped in to save the day. With his big thank you, Hunter had freed Travis from the weight of needing to be the hero for an organization.
The pressure Travis now felt came from someplace else. From a place inside him he’d tried hard to deny existed. But it had insisted on being heard anyway.
That meant something else was at stake tonight.
Something he hadn’t expected to want. But he wanted it now. So much that he couldn’t imagine living without it.
Or really, living without her.
But after what he’d said to Cara last night, he knew he needed to do something as meaningful for her as Hunter had done for him.
He called Becker. Sure, there was a part of him that could see the value in operating without a playbook. But winging it would not work now.. He needed his men to help him win one woman tonight.
Especially since he had a sinking feeling that the one woman was incredibly pissed at him.
…
Becker parked his hands behind his head, tipped back in the chair in his kitchen, and laughed. Loudly. Knowingly. Enjoying every single second of Travis’s big ask.
Travis rolled his eyes. “So will you help me?”
Becker held up his hand. “Just tell me again when it was you realized you were a complete and utter dipshit? ‘Cause that’s my favorite part of the story.”
Megan chimed in, drumming her fingers on the table. “Yeah. Mine, too. Was it when Mom gave you a talking to or was it when Mr. Safety ran the light? Or was it, wait, don’t tell me, was it the look on Cara’s face when she drove away from you last night?”
Travis motioned with his fingers for them to keep piling on. “I deserve it. I know. Just keep ‘em coming.”
“Seriously,” Megan said with a laugh as she took a drink from her iced tea. “You are a piece of work. I knew you were in love with her, and I knew she was in love with you. And you fucked up.”
“No. Kidding.” Travis exaggerated the words. “I am well aware of that.”
“Just tell me one last time,” Becker said. “Tell me the moment when you, the avowed single man who swore he’d never get involved with any woman, who was so firmly against commitment that he once tried to keep me away from the woman who became the love of my life,” he said, stopping to reach for Megan’s hand and hold it tightly. “Tell me when you knew you’d been in love with Cara for the last ten years and then some.”
Travis gulped and took a deep breath. “Look. It is what it is. Okay? Now, I just need your help.”
“No,” Becker said firmly, slapping his free hand on the table. “Tell me.”
Megan dropped her chin into her hand and batted her eyes. “We want to know. C’mon, Travis. You’d do anything for your little sister. Tell me the moment when the most stubborn person I’ve ever known knew he was wrong.”
He heaved a long, frustrated sigh. But he was only frustrated because the clock was ticking. Even though he was throwing caution to the wind, he still needed to line up all the pieces for tonight. “I knew it when I was driving home last night. It all became clear. And then I got home, and I missed her. But if you really want the full story, there were probably a million moments when I felt it and just hadn’t realized it. When I brought her the flowers. When I fixed her car and found myself wanting to help out with anything else she’d ever need me to do. Or when she gave me a haircut, and I could see her doing it again and again, every time I needed one. Or when I saw her at Smith’s wedding, and my heart started pounding just from looking at her,” he said, recounting some of the moments that had read like Latin in his mind at the time, but had now been properly translated to spell out the depths of his feelings. Of course, there were other times, too. Ones just between him and Cara, like in the shower the other day when he’d washed her hair. Or right before then, in her bed, when sex had felt like love for the first time. “I can tell you all that, or I can tell her tonight. Will you just help me?”
Becker nodded and extended a hand. “I always help my men.”
Megan stood up and planted a quick kiss on Travis’s forehead. “Of course. Though I think I need to call in reinforcements if we’re going to convince Cara to show up. She’s not too fond of you right now.”
…
She’d lasted another few hours of this awful day. She was ready to check each one off on her calendar. When she’d made it through the first full twenty-four hours, she’d feel like some real progress had been made. She had mapped out her evening. An hour at the dog park with Violet, then she’d pay a visit to Stacy, then she’d make spicy linguini.
As the afternoon rolled on and she jotted down her list of ingredients, her bell rang, and she opened the door to find Megan and Stacy on her porch. “I don’t recall starting a midwife’s practice, so do tell me why the two pregnant ladies are at my door.”
Stacy laughed. “Let us in.”
“Like I have a choice,” Cara said, as she gestured for them to come inside.
Stacy pointed to the red couch in her living room. “Sit with us.”
“Okay,” Cara said, and did as instructed. Perhaps it was the older sister tone of voice that made her obey, and she parked herself between the two women.
“Listen,” Stacy said, placing her hand on Cara’s leg. “I think you need to go to the auction tonight.”
She shook her head adamantly. “No. No. No. And in case that wasn’t clear, no.”
Megan spoke up. “I know you were planning on going and bidding for him, and I even encouraged you to do so. And I feel terrible because my brother was an ass, but I think you should go.”
“Why?” Cara asked, holding her hands out wide. “None of you ladies are telling me why I should go? I put my heart on the line last night, and he just completely dismissed me.” Her voice broke, and all the tears that she had shed alone last night came roaring back. Torrential rains poured down her cheeks, and she let the waterworks fly. “It hurt so much.”
Her chest ached with the pain. The cruel memory of the way he’d ditched her—we had a good time—sliced into her heart once again. Megan leaned across the coffee table to grab some tissues and handed them to Cara.
She dabbed at her cheeks.
Stacy wrapped an arm around her. “Sweetie. I hate seeing you hurt,” she said softly, squeezing her shoulder. “More than anything in the world. And I would go to the mats for you, and hurt anyone who hurt you. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not at Travis’s house right now beating him up, even though I could.” Stacy held up her fists in the put up your dukes pose. Cara managed a small, faint laugh. “So all I’m saying is, trust me. I know that’s hard, but I don’t think you’ll regret going. I’ll be by your side. And if you want to leave, we will leave. But you trained that dog—”
“Do you mean Travis? Because dog is a nice word, and I don’t think he was so nice.”
“She means Henry,” Megan said, and for some reason the fact that Travis’s sister was here made her consider the request more seriously.
“I do want to see Henry,” Cara said under her breath.
“You can’t let this change you,” Stacy said. “You hold your head up high and you go. You have every right to be there tonight to cheer on the dog.”
“You want to go, don’t you?” Megan asked. Cara nodded and squeaked out a yes. “Then let’s get you ready, and we’ll take you, and you can see the dog do his thing.”
“Promise me you’ll stay with me the whole time, Stace?”
Stacy crossed her heart. “Promise,” she said.