Chapter 11
TRAVIS
“Sam, I can’t believe you’re not staying longer.”
My brother was visiting for a week. Lately, he came over a lot from Honduras, but only for a couple days at a time. He was seeing someone in Chicago but hadn’t introduced her to us yet.
“Man, we have this conversation every time. Why don’t we enjoy that I’m here?”
As usual, he’d dropped by the office. He’d corrupted me into going up for a drink, even though it was only early afternoon.
“I only spoke with Mom and Dad. The rest don’t know yet. Wait, I’m hearing Luke’s voice.” He stood up and went to the door, opening it wide.
My laptop was wide open on the desk. I’d pulled up the email address I’d set up for the hotel. It was a place for general inquiries. Both Marjorie and I had access, and neither of us looked at it very often.
Luke came in with his fiancée, Megan, and he and Sam instantly started giving each other shit.
I’d missed the reason for it, but truth be told, we didn’t always need one in the Maxwell family.
After listening for a while, I finally figured it out—Sam was giving it to Luke for not agreeing to join us for drinks.
Twenty-five unread emails popped up at me.
“Well, at least I corrupted Travis. Ready to go?” Sam asked me.
“Yeah, just a sec. Let me reply to this email. Fuck, it disappeared.”
It was from Tim. What the hell? Did I manage to accidentally delete it?
“You can find deleted emails in the trash,” Megan said.
I was happy my brother finally pulled his head out of his ass and nabbed her. She fit into the Maxwell clan well.
“I know.” I was a tech guy, for God’s sake. “Damn, there are a lot of deleted emails here. And—”
I froze.
Six days ago, we'd received an email from Bonnie. The subject said, “Important Information for Travis Maxwell.” I immediately opened it.
To Whom It May Concern…
I read it quickly.
For fuck's sake, why did Marjorie delete this?
“Bad news?” Sam asked.
“What happened?” Megan added.
“Wait a second. Let me make a call.”
She’d included her phone number, and I immediately called her, standing on my feet. This was sheer dumb luck, and I couldn't believe it. Fuck yes, the odds were in my favor! This time I was going to save her number in three different places. I wasn't risking losing it again.
“She’s not answering,” I explained, ending the call.
“Who?” Luke inquired.
“Bonnie.”
Megan frowned.
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Bonnie from your trip?”
I nodded. “She sent me an email to the company address, saying I should call her back.'"
Sam hesitated before asking, “A woman who you were with a month ago is writing that you should call her?”
“Maybe she’s in town, and this is a booty call.” Luke’s voice was teasing.
“Or she’s pregnant.” Sam’s words hit me like a physical punch.
“Impossible. We were careful. Quit giving me a heart attack. I know that’s not it.”
Sam gave me his doctor smirk. “You don’t want to know how often I've heard 'We were careful' from pregnant patients of mine.”
What the hell, Sam?
“Dude, you’re giving off Declan vibes. Quit scaring the man.”
They continued to bicker, but I wasn’t listening anymore. What if Sam was right? I couldn’t see it happening, though.
In the end, Sam did manage to convince Luke to go up for a drink with us. Usually, I was all for spending time with my brothers, but right now, all I could think about was Bonnie. Why hadn’t she answered the phone? I dialed her number a couple more times from the bar, then again on the way home.
Once I entered my penthouse, I realized she didn't have this number. Maybe she thought it was spam. God knew they were fucking insane lately. I quickly shot her a text message.
Travis: Hi Bonnie, it's Travis. I just saw your email. Call me back when you see this. I can't believe I finally have a way to contact you again.
She called me the next second. I answered right away. "Bonnie."
"Hey, hi."
"Thank fuck you found me," I said.
"Oh? I did try contacting you on your other phone."
"Some moron leaked my number, and I started getting a lot of spam calls, so I changed it as soon as I landed in Chicago."
"Right. You can just say that you didn't want to talk to me."
I frowned. She sounded sarcastic.
"But I just told you that I want to talk to you, that I'm glad you contacted me."
She cleared her throat but didn’t say anything.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"In Chicago. I came back last week."
"That's great." Her placement in Oceanwell Bay wasn't supposed to end for another two months. Why was she back early?
An awkward pause followed. I had a distinct feeling that I was missing something.
"How are you?" I asked.
"Jesus, Travis, I don't even know where to begin."
"We can pick up where we left off."
She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry to spring it on you like this, but I'm pregnant."
My shoulders went rigid. Every muscle in my body tensed up. I always liked to say that I was prepared for the unexpected. But I sure as hell wasn't prepared for this, even though Sam brought it up.
"Pregnant?"
"Yes. I don't expect anything from you. I just think it's right for you to know, and obviously for the baby to know his or her dad." She spoke quickly, as if she didn’t want to give me a chance to interrupt. “I just thought you should know.”
I paced the living room, trying to gather my wits. She didn't sound like my Bonnie. She sounded cold.
"Bonnie, it's me. What do you mean you don't expect anything from me?"
"I knew you for a few days, Travis, and I've spent the past weeks running around to get everything in place, so I’m prepared to raise my baby on my own. This is only to let you know, as I think that’s only fair. I’m not reaching out to you for your money or anything like that."
She sounded exhausted. It dawned on me that she'd been doing everything by herself, probably thinking I was the world's biggest asshole.
I had been an asshole. It was true I'd lost her number, but I could've made more of an effort tracking her down.
But I'd gotten wrapped up in setting up everything for the hotel, and I'd pushed everything else to the back burner. I needed to rectify that.
"Bonnie," I said, "let's meet and talk about this."
She didn’t reply right away. I racked my brain for a way to bring levity to the situation, but this wasn’t the time for joking or banter.
“Okay, let’s meet tomorrow evening for dinner. Do you know the Revival Food Hall?”
“Yes.”
“It’s close to the practice. I can meet you there at seven.”
“Seven it is. Bonnie, I can’t wait to catch up. I want to know everything: how you’re feeling, how I can help, how we’re moving forward. Whatever you need, I'm here.”
“I really don’t need anything.”
I knew better than to push the issue now. I had plenty of time to get my point of view across tomorrow at dinner.
One thing Bonnie needed to understand was that I still wanted to date her—and I damn sure wanted this kid.