Of course.
Relief washes over me, and while this isn’t ideal, it’s the only thing I can think of. And I know Travis will treat Lucy as if she’s the most precious person in his life. I tell him that my mother lives in my building and give him her apartment number. I also let him know that he can get the key from my mom to gain access to my apartment. It’s risky, but the alternative is telling Elijah I need to go and having him follow me.
“Sorry, that was business,” I tell him, offering him a smile that I can only hope placates him. I know that I have to play nice in order to keep him at bay.
“Back to my visitation. I figure that I’ll come up one weekend a month until school is out, and then she can come to Virginia for the summer. Renee would really like to be a mother to her. I’m sure you can understand.”
My mouth waters, and not in the way that it does when I see Travis, but the way it does before I’m about to throw up. That is what I want to do right now, hurl into my garbage can or all over his lap. He can’t be serious with this pile of shit he laid out for me.
“I think I need a minute, Elijah.”
I leave my office, taking my picture of Lucy and my cell phone with me for good measure. I wouldn’t put it past Elijah to snoop through my desk while I try to regain my composure. In the bathroom, I lean against the door and try to catch my breath. I knew this day would come, but honestly I never expected it. I figured—had hoped—that he was content with his new family and wouldn’t want to interrupt mine.
Heading to the sink, I splash water on my face and pat it dry, trying not to ruin too much of my makeup. Elijah doesn’t need to see that he’s getting the best of me. I return with my head held high as I strut back into my office. Sitting back down, I face him.
“First off, Lucy has a mother; it’s me, and I don’t give a rat’s ass if your wife wants to be a mother to my daughter—it’s not going to happen. Second, if you want visitation, you will have to follow the court order that has been in place since she was six months old. Had you been following it right all along, I might have been amenable and let her spend a week or so in Virginia, but you haven’t, and one weekend a month isn’t going to change that. Third, I am never going to understand anything when it comes to Renee or you, for that matter. As far as I’m concerned, she has no say in what goes on in Lucy’s life.”
“Don’t test me on this, Saylor. She’s my daughter, too.”
I should take his threat seriously, but I don’t. “Then act like it, Elijah. Until then, we have nothing to talk about.”
“Except, I’m here to see her.”
I pick up my phone from off my lap and look at my calendar. “Tomorrow we’ll be at the indoor play palace. You can see her there.”
Elijah stands and slips on his coat. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. One call and her bags are packed and she’s on the next flight with me.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he’s walking out of my office. I’m frozen in my chair as his words replay in my mind. There’s no mistaking that threat. If I don’t give in to his demands, he’s going to call in a favor. He did that many times when he was living here, often with his corrupt friends. Elijah said that’s how you made it to the top, how you became powerful, trading favors for favors.
I grab my coat and lock up my office. The trains will be crazy at this time of the day, so I hail a cab, only to get stuck in traffic about halfway from home. I get out and walk as fast as I can through the holiday shoppers, and in high heels. In hindsight, I should’ve taken the time to change my shoes, but I want to get home to Lucy. I need to hold her, feel her in my arms, and know that she’s safe.
When I open my door, Travis and Lucy both stare at me. Christmas music is playing, and our tree is lit. Travis smiles, and I cover my mouth to hide my laughter. This man, who has been telling me that he wants something, anything, with me is sitting on my couch wearing a tiara. His lips are painted ruby red, and the blue eye shadow he has on really makes his eyes brighter.
Somehow he knew that this would make my day better.
Fifteen
Travis
By the mixed expression on Saylor’s face, I can tell something is bothering her even as she tries to mask the turmoil at my current state. I slowly slide the tiara off and set it on the table before scooping Lucy up in my arms and carrying her over to her mother. Don’t ask me why I felt the need to do this, as opposed to letting Lucy walk over, but something inside told me that I needed to deliver Lucy into her arms.
They both collapse into each other while I stand by awkwardly. This seems to be a private moment that I shouldn’t witness, and yet here I am, wanting to envelop both of them in my arms. In the matter of a week, these women have wrapped me around their fingers, and there isn’t shit I can do about it.
Saylor lets out a sob. It was quiet, but I heard it. As she sets Lucy down, she shyly tries to cover her eyes so that I don’t see her tears.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask as I reach for her hand.
She lets me hold it, only briefly, until she’s pulling away and wiping her eyes. “Stressful day.”
“Thankfully, it wasn’t anything I did,” I tell her jokingly. She smiles, only it doesn’t reach her eyes. I’m not sure what happened today at work, but whoever fucked up did a number on her.
“Mommy, Travis let me do his makeup.”
Saylor looks at me and laughs. I curtsy and wish I still had on the tiara so I could twirl around like a ballerina.
“His makeup looks great, sweetie.”
Lucy beams with pride and runs off to her room after Saylor asks for an “adult” minute.
“I need more than a minute, Saylor. I think you know that.” I waggle my eyebrows at her, causing her to half laugh, half cry. I pull her into my arms, and she nestles her head into my neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head and pulls away from me. “I can’t take you seriously with that crap on your face. Follow me—I’ll help you clean it off.”
I don’t think Saylor realizes that I’d follow her anywhere, especially if she’s leading me down the path of righteousness. For her, I’d be a better man. All she has to do is say the words, and I’ll enter every self-help program available to be the type of man she deserves. But something tells me that she likes the bad boy in me and that she craves the dirty-talking, cocky man that I am.
Her bathroom is decorated in a Disney theme, and earlier when Lucy was giving me the grand tour of their two-bedroom, one-bath apartment, I noticed that Saylor’s life has been overcome by Lucy. I don’t mean that in a bad way, but I do know that women like to have space to go and relax, and Saylor doesn’t seem to have that. Every inch of their apartment is “Lucy,” whether it’s toys, books, or decorations.
Saylor motions for me to sit on the pink-covered lid of the toilet as she digs under the counter for something. I watch her prepare a handful of cotton balls with some type of liquid, as if it’s pure science.
“Close your eyes,” she says. The liquid is cool against my eyelids, and the pressure she’s applying is soft. “I’m sorry she did this.”
“I’m not. It was fun. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
She moves to my other eye and follows the same technique. “You could’ve told her no.”
I smile and rest my hands on her hips. I feel her lean closer as she continues to rub the cotton ball over my face, removing the remnants of Lucy’s makeup job.
“This shouldn’t feel good, but it does,” I whisper into thin air. I’m afraid to open my eyes, fearful of her expression. Sometimes my little comments make her happy, and other times they make her step away.
“This might taste funky, so try not to lick your lips.” She starts working on my lips and scrubs a bit harder.
“Ouch,” I mumble as my bottom lip is tugged across my face.
“Sorry, she really caked this crap on.”
“Where’d she get it from anyway?�
� I ask in between swipes.
“My mom. Lucy isn’t supposed to use it without permission and supervision.” Saylor continues to work at removing the lipstick. She steps out of my hands, and I open my eyes to find her staring at me. I’m tempted to pull her onto my lap so she can straddle me and have another heavy make-out session, but with Lucy in the other room, I can’t imagine Saylor would even kiss me right now.
“I was supervising,” I say with a laugh.
“Right, and what if I couldn’t get this off?” she laughs.
I shrug and stand to look at myself in the mirror. Aside from my lips being stained red, the makeup is gone. “Then the media would’ve had a field day with me.” I wink at her in the mirror, and she blushes. “Do you want to talk about what has you all upset?” I ask as we leave the bathroom. She shakes her head and motions toward the door.
“I need to give Lucy a bath, and I’m tired. Do you mind?” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she’s covering her face and shaking her head. “I’m sorry—that came out wrong.”
“It’s fine, Saylor.” I bring her to my chest and hold her tightly. After a few seconds, her arms snake around my waist. Kissing the top of her head, my lips linger there for a moment until they move down to her temple, cheek, and finally to her lips. Her quick intake of air isn’t lost on me as I try to fight back a smile while I kiss her. “Good night,” I tell her as my lips hover over hers. “Lucy has already eaten dinner. I am the master at fish sticks and fries.”
“Good night, Travis, and thank you for saving me today.”
“You save me every day.” I leave her with those parting words, hoping that she understands what I’m saying to her. Hell, sometimes I don’t even understand what I’m saying except when it comes to Saylor. I know that she likes me, but something is stopping her from pursuing a relationship. It could be a number of things—my reputation is probably the biggest hurdle—and I hope I’m doing everything right when it comes to showing her that I’ve put that life behind me, more so for her than anything.
Instead of taking a cab or calling for an Uber, I walk home. The night air is brisk, and the wind is holding steady. I can’t get my mind off Saylor and how I’d much rather be in her tiny apartment than home alone. Their home is filled with love, warmth, and it makes you feel welcomed, while mine is a designer slab of bachelorhood.
I groan when I see the same trucks parked outside my house, not to mention the surveillance van sitting a few doors down. They think they’re subtle and that I don’t notice them. I’ve been tempted to play practical jokes on them but have refrained. It’s part of my trying to turn over a new leaf. The Travis Kidd from a week ago would’ve stuck a banana up their tailpipe, had copious amounts of food delivered, and probably even ordered them an escort.
My name is called as I near my house. Someday I’ll be able to answer all their questions, but until then, I stuff my hands in my pockets and keep my head down.
“Travis, are you still a Renegade?”
“Do you know what’s taking the DA so long?”
“Are you nervous that your arrest is imminent?”
The last question has me stumbling over my feet. A reporter reaches out and grabs my arm to help me straighten up. “Thanks,” I say as I adjust my coat and start walking up the stairs to my door. Unless this woman somehow stole my jizz, there is no way they can pin her rape on me. It’s unfair that I’m being hounded when there hasn’t been a peep about her or her credibility.
As soon as I’m behind my closed door, I lean against it and sigh. I want to scream, throw things, and stand in front of my large picture window with my middle fingers up, telling them all to fuck off. Somehow I doubt Saylor would approve of a stunt like that, though, and the damage I would do with the media would probably be beyond repair.
Instead, I move through my darkened house, turning on only the television for light, and slip into my bathroom to take a shower. There isn’t a thing sitting on my countertop, and my walls are decal-free. In fact, looking around I feel as if the gray-and-white décor is boring and lacks life. Saylor’s may be cluttered, but it feels homey.
After a long, hot shower and a self-induced facial to make sure the makeup is in fact gone, I park myself in front of the television. Thankfully, I’m not the headline on every channel tonight, but the alternative is Christmas movies. I search in hopes of finding something like Die Hard to watch, but I can only find the sappy love stories that are meant to make women weep and send men running.
Except I don’t want to run anymore, but I’m not sure I want to settle down either. I do know that Saylor is someone that I want to explore a relationship with, but I also know that exploring isn’t an option for her. She comes with Lucy, and loving one means loving both. There’s no doubt in my mind that I can love them both, but I’m not sure love is enough.
My phone rings, and Branch’s name and ugly mug appear on my screen.
“’Sup,” I say as I continue to flip through the channels.
“I have a suite at the Bruins game tomorrow night. You interested?”
“Is this a date?”
“Fuck no. I’m taking my son and thought you’d like to meet him. Plus, it’s probably wise for you to be seen with your teammates. I’ve read some shit that says we’ve all turned our backs on you, and—”
“I know you haven’t,” I tell him before he can finish his sentence. “Can I bring someone? Well, two someones?”
“Kidd, are you saying you have a girlfriend?”
The thought of Saylor being my girlfriend brings a smile to my face. “Nah, she’s my publicist, but she has a daughter that’s your son’s age. Maybe they can have playdates and shit while you’re here.”
“The more the merrier. Coop is bringing Ainsley, but not the twins. The fucker got Wilson to agree to babysit.”
I laugh as images of Wilson changing shitty diapers play out in my mind. “What a kiss-ass.”
“Who? Bailey?”
“No, Wilson,” I say. “Who the hell volunteers to babysit twins?”
“Dunno. So you in?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there for sure. Put me down for three just in case.”
“Righto. Peace,” Branch says as he hangs up. I don’t even hesitate to call Saylor, and when she says hello, a jolt of excitement hits my dick, causing it to wake up.
“Fuck, you sound sexy when you answer the phone.”
“Travis…” She draws my name out, making me pray that she’s been thinking about me.
“Fuck, Saylor.” My hand palms my growing erection. “Don’t you just want to fuck and get rid of all this sexual tension between us?”
The line goes silent until I hear her sigh and mutter, “Yes.”
“Me too, but not a one-night stand. I want more.”
“I can’t,” she says, killing the small buzz I had going over the thought of us knocking boots.
“Right, I forgot,” I say, clearing my throat. “Branch’s son is in town, and he’s the same age as Lucy, or close to it. He’s invited me, or us, to the hockey game tomorrow night. He has a suite. Do you want to go?”
“Travis—”
“Look, I’ll leave your name at the will-call window if you want. I thought I’d offer, but I realize that you can get tickets to any event you want. So, good night, Saylor.” I hang up, wondering how she can go from night to day so damn fast. One minute she’s asking me to watch her daughter and doesn’t balk when I kiss her, but then she won’t go to a hockey game with a bunch of baseball players.
Am I missing something? Or am I so wrapped up in her that I’m not seeing what’s right in front of me—a woman who has told me nothing can happen?
Sixteen
Saylor
My phone vibrates beside me, and a quick glance shows a text from Elijah instead of Travis, like I had hoped. All morning I have contemplated calling him to apologize for my behavior last night, but I’m a coward. I can’t bring myself to tell him that, while I’m interested, he’s not wor
th the risks, and I can’t find the right words to convey that to him without hurting his feelings. The last thing I want to do is hurt him, but I have to tell him. I can’t continue leading him on, even though each kiss brings me closer to succumbing to him.
Elijah’s face lights up my screen, this time by calling. I dread speaking to him, so I send him to voice mail and open his text message instead. He’s asking when and what the address is for the play palace, and honestly I was hoping he would’ve forgotten or decided Lucy wasn’t worth the headache and returned to Virginia, back to his picture-perfect house and Stepford wife.
I decide to wait until about five minutes before we leave to let Elijah know where we’ll be. It’s mean on my part, but the man deserves to be kept on his toes where Lucy is concerned. All the way to the play palace, she yammers on about Travis and how he’s her best friend and how she wants him to come over again. Secretly, I do, too. I haven’t slept well all week, not since the night he came over, and I have never felt more alive than the day we made out at the gym. When I’m alone, thoughts of the night Travis and I spent together keep me yearning for him, and no matter what I do to quell those visions, there are more waiting in the wings to take their place. Not to mention the anticipation of what could happen if I let go of my inhibitions and gave in to him.
Last night when he called, I almost gave in and invited him to come back over. He’s right—the sexual tension between us is thickening day by day, and I’m on the verge of combustion. Travis has a knack for taking a word like fuck and turning it into the most sensual expression ever. When he asked me if I wanted to fuck, to be with him longer than one night, I nodded yes while my mouth muttered the words I can’t.
I can’t replayed over and over in my head as I achieved my own orgasm while imagining it was him between my legs. I have never been one to resort to self-pleasure, until this week, and now it is an automatic response after he’s left or after he’s invaded a dream. While I may know my body, Travis mastered it in one night, and I’ll never be able to duplicate what he did.
Grand Slam Page 10
