17. Travis
TRAVIS
“W hy don’t you head home and enjoy your holiday a little early?” I had the pleasure of watching my assistant’s eyes go perfectly round at the suggestion before pointing out, “We are as ready as we’re going to be at this point.”
It was hard to believe, but what I said was true.
We were as prepared for the launch of our new East Coast operations as we could be.
The month of November had been spent going over every last detail, anticipating all possible emergencies.
Nothing short of an act of God could throw us off at this point.
Even then, there were contingency plans in place for worst-case scenarios.
“Only if you’re sure,” Lauren mumbled as she started getting her things together at her desk. She knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially on a Saturday night when she could easily have been out having fun.
“You’ve given me enough of your free time. We’ll catch up in person after Thanksgiving, and of course, it would be helpful if you could keep me abreast of anything that comes through that seems like an emergency. Other than that?” I shrugged. “Get out before I change my mind.”
She left so quickly, I was surprised she didn’t kick up dust in her wake.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” she called out over her shoulder, and I laughed softly, heading into my office to close up shop.
It was an impromptu decision, giving her the next couple of weekdays off, but I wasn’t na?ve.
Very little ever got done during a short week.
The office was due to be closed starting Tuesday evening.
Most people merely passed the time at their desks until then.
This was unusual for me. Understanding why a person would be in a hurry to get the hell out of the office and be with their family.
I had no doubt a lot of that stemmed from my lack of any warmth in my own family.
Any love I’d ever gotten from Mom was soon countered by my father.
He sure as hell had never made holidays a priority.
I had a reason to hurry through getting home now.
I doubted I’d be able to take it easy next week, the second to last before we launched our ships from our own private terminal at Port Liberty in Bayonne.
But in between times, I would be with the people I wanted to be with most. I was the luckiest son of a bitch alive.
And finally, I was starting to appreciate it.
Though it made no sense. On paper, nothing about Penny and me worked.
She was too young, too innocent, na?ve about so much of the world.
Too sunny, too bouncy. We had made no promises beyond keeping things purely physical.
It was wrong for me to act like we had something more, even in my own head.
But I was tired of the notion. Telling myself it didn’t mean anything every time we were together, when she fell asleep in my arms, or when we laughed over the sort of inside joke only we understood.
I was lying to myself, and those lies were coming to a head sooner than I wanted to admit.
Now that I was on my way home, where Sofia would more than likely be in bed, but Penny would be waiting up, there was one topic at the forefront of my mind.
I had nothing else to distract me from it.
Sitting in the back seat as the driver navigated the busy streets, I turned the problem over in my head.
How to approach asking Penny to stay with us since that was the only conclusion that made sense?
Something reared up in me the way it had been doing for the past few months every time I considered keeping her with us.
That part of me, not far beneath the surface, was unable to accept the idea of trusting.
She had done nothing but show me how honest and true she was, but there was still no shaking the memory of having a rug ripped out from under me all at once, with no warning.
I understood too well waking up one morning and thinking my life was as perfect as it could be—a thriving business, a beautiful wife, a daughter who made the sun rise and set for me.
And by lunchtime that same day so much of it came crashing down.
Could I risk that again?
Could I put Sofia through it?
This wasn’t all about me. Could I trust Penny not to make me regret letting her into my life?
Did I have it in me to make her happy? To be the man she needed?
Could I balance this new phase in my career with a new relationship?
Then again, I’d been balancing it for months.
Not that we were in an official relationship, but we were together in practice if not on paper.
Would it be that much of a difference? To say, “ Penny, I want you to stay in our lives, but not as a nanny. I want to take care of you and Sofia. I want us to be a family. ”
What if that wasn’t what she wanted? She loved Sofia. That was obvious, but was it enough? Was I enough? I always thought I was for Nicola, and look where that got me.
It didn’t matter. The past was just that. It was time to suck it up. I was lucky Penny hadn’t pressed the issue yet, but that wasn’t her style. Six months were almost up, though, and she wouldn’t stay silent forever.
In other words, it didn’t matter whether or not I was ready to officially welcome this woman into my life. I would never be ready. Some things a man had to do before his brain could catch up and talk him out of the best thing that ever happened to him.
The idea of what I was about to do filled me with the sort of nervous anticipation nothing else could touch.
Not even the thought of the splashy event we planned for the opening could touch the sort of pulse-pounding excitement that flowed through me once I stepped out of the car in front of the house.
Home, sweet home. Our home? Would she want that?
My heart raced with anticipation as I jogged up the steps and through the front door.
Profound silence greeted me like I’d stepped into an empty church.
It made me soften my footsteps as I roamed, searching for Penny, ready to blurt the question out.
Will you stay? Could we make this more than physical?
The kitchen was empty, without so much as a tea kettle on the stove to indicate she’d made a cup to unwind. Maybe she wasn’t in the mood to unwind.
My dick thickened at the idea and added a little speed to my progress.
I left the room after double-checking the locks on the patio door, intending to head upstairs.
Maybe she was waiting for me in bed. I untucked my button-down shirt on my way from the kitchen, stopping only when I heard a sound coming from my office.
All right, then maybe she had decided to surprise me at my desk instead. There was no shortage of pleasant thoughts playing in my head like scenes from a porno by the time I rounded the open doorway.
She wasn’t waiting behind my desk, wearing nothing but a smile. She wasn’t stretched out on its surface, either, offering herself.
She sat in one of the two leather chairs facing the desk, tapping her fingers against the arm, drinking from what looked like a glass of whiskey. I had never seen her drink hard liquor before.
Right away, my senses went into overdrive. There was something ominous about the whole situation. “Long day?” I ventured, watching from behind her as she took another sip from her glass.
“Very long.”
This wasn’t like her. Facing away from me, she offered a flat answer that revealed nothing. My heart flooded with dread as I approached. “What happened? What did I miss?” What was I talking about? There was one reason she would act the way she did, and it made my heart plummet. “Sofia? Is she?—”
Shaking her head, then turning it partway to the side to glance over her shoulder, she replied, “She’s fine. She’s in bed, dreaming of pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream.”
“Then what’s going on?” I poured myself a drink because instinct told me this might go easier with a little liquid courage.
It was the energy in the room, the way it seemed to suck all the air out until it was a challenge to breathe.
“Are you all right?” I asked, turning her way.
She was blank-faced, without the usual spark she carried. There was no radiance. No… her.
“I don’t actually know.” I waited for one of her typical, cheerful quips to follow that but was disappointed.
Who would ever have guessed I would one day crave that irrepressible positivity?
She adjusted the leg of her yoga pants, touching a fingertip to a small hole.
Anything so long as it meant avoiding my gaze.
“Talk to me,” I urged, choosing to sit next to her rather than take the desk chair.
“There was a visitor today.” She crossed her legs, folded her arms, lowered her brow, and pierced me with a sharp look. “Maybe you’re the one who should talk to me. Maybe I would’ve been better prepared.”
It was better when she stared at her lap. “You’re going to have to start speaking English because I don’t understand.”
Her chest rose and fell in a sigh. “Sofia’s mommy was looking for her.”
No . Not this. I was prepared for almost anything but this.
I reeled the way a man did when he’d been blindsided, lost in a fog but at the same time fighting to control the sudden spike of adrenaline. Somehow, I managed to speak over the roaring in my head, forcing air through my tightened throat to ask, “What do you mean? Be specific.”
“Nicola.” The name hung in the air for a moment, poisoning it. “We had a long talk through the security system. I’m sure you can look at the footage if you would like a recap.” She wasn’t angry. She sounded sad, confused. Empty.
I was angry enough for both of us. Furious, enraged, my blood pressure shooting through the roof as I pictured that worthless bitch’s face in my head. “She had the nerve to come here?”
“She wanted to see her daughter.”