Keep My Baby Safe

by Bella Grant

  Travis opened his mouth to deny it but decided against it and changed the subject, false lightness in his voice. “What should I wear? Tuxedo? Or is that too much?”

  Ayana hesitated on the other end, and Travis held his breath, hoping she’d let the topic change without an argument. He released the breath when she said, “As much as I love to see you spiffy in your tux, nice slacks and a polo would do. If you have a pink polo, that would be best.”

  “I’m not sure if I do, but I have time to swing by a store and pick one up,” Travis offered.

  “Don’t go to the that much trouble, baby,” she replied. “Any color will do.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

  “No, your father and I are going together,” she informed him.

  “Oh, good. I won’t be the only man there,” he said with a laugh. “Is Dad wearing pink?”

  “Of course!”

  “Yeah, if I can’t find one I’ll get one,” he decided. “Love you.”

  “Love you, baby. See you this afternoon,” she replied and ended the call.

  Travis’ parents meant everything to him. When he’d been able to, he’d paid off the last of the mortgage on their house and handed them the title with their names on it. His mother had cried, and she’d cried even harder and griped at him when she found out six months later that he’d paid off all her medical bills from the cancer. They had lived for him, gone without so he could have, so paying off their house and bills had been so much less than what he owed them. He’d do anything for either of them, even attend a celebration of tatas and spend money on random auction items.

  With a sigh, he refilled his coffee, which he’d sipped throughout the conversation, and carried it upstairs with him to search for a pink shirt. He was certain he’d have to stop at Nieman Marcus.

  Travis walked into the ballroom of what was supposed to be one of the most haunted plantation homes in New Orleans, and his morbid side wished the breast cancer event had occurred after dark to encourage the spirits to visit. He was a great believer in the spirits who resided in this realm, regarding the spiritual world as being as real as the world in which he resided. His mother had instilled in him these beliefs, and he often meditated and listened for the voices he knew were just out of his reach.

  He’d studied his mother’s tribe and had visited the reservation where the surviving members still lived. He loved his heritage and was incredibly proud of it, and one thing he’d always loved about Diana was that she accepted his heritage, learned about it, and had included it in her life. He’d thought she was perfect, and she had been close.

  His thoughts reminded him he hadn’t sent her the message, and he frowned at his forgetfulness. When he’d searched for a pink shirt, as he’d assumed, there hadn’t been one. Getting to Nieman Marcus and finding what he wanted as well as getting to the venue on time had been tricky, so it was no surprise he’d forgotten. I’ll send it when we sit down for the lunch, he promised himself, jiggling his phone in his pocket as he searched for his parents.

  He felt the looks rather than saw them and tried for a nonchalant expression. Without being narcissistic, Travis understood he was a handsome man, but he tried not to use his looks to gain the upper hand. Except in business if he thought it would work. He glanced to his left and saw a gaggle of women jerk their heads in every direction but his and sighed. The attention was usually unwanted, like it was this afternoon. If he was truthful with himself, he would admit only one woman’s attention was needed, and he wasn’t sure she wanted to give it to him.

  “Travis!”

  His mother’s voice pulled his head around, and he lifted a hand to wave at her as he made his way across the room. He kissed her on the cheek and hugged his father before taking his place at a table for ten.

  “This is an awfully big table, Mom,” Travis commented as he glanced at the still-empty chairs waiting for their occupants.

  “Your mother bought an entire table for us,” Gus announced, smiling indulgently at his wife, whose black hair—which had many more threads of gray than it had before the cancer—was loose around her face. She flicked her hair back and smiled at her husband’s tone, kissing him softly on the lips.

  “Do you mean we’re sitting at the table alone?” Travis asked, surprised by the idea though not unhappy.

  “Oh gosh, no, silly boy,” Ayana gushed, slapping his leg. “Every seat will be filled.”

  “With women, son,” Gus warned him, giving him the look.

  “Mother.”

  “Don’t ‘mother’ me,” she chided as she lifted the glass of white wine in front of her and sipped. “You never date, so I invited a handful of lovely young ladies to join us at our table.”

  “This feels suspiciously medieval,” Travis grouched, looking around for a waiter. He remembered there weren’t any and asked, “Where is the bar? I’ll need a couple of stiff whiskeys to get through this afternoon.”

  “I’ll lead the way,” Gus announced as two twenty-somethings sidled up to the table and greeted Ayana. He grabbed Travis’ arms and said, “If you’ll excuse us.”

  As they hurried towards the bar, which was across the room, Travis hissed, “I think Mom is trying to pimp me out.”

  Gus laughed gruffly, turning several heads. The man was small of stature, so the loud, low voice that emitted from his mouth was often a surprise. “I think she wants you to get married again.”

  “Yeah, she’s mentioned that about eight-hundred times,” Travis informed him as they reached the bar. He ordered a whiskey neat, and his father ordered the same.

  “I think we should hang out at the bar for a bit, don’t you?” Gus asked, chuckling when his son nodded his head emphatically.

  “Start a tab, my friend,” he told the bartender as he handed over his card. “Do the proceeds go to the cause?”

  “Twenty percent, sir,” the bartender told him as he tucked the card away.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Gus bellowed, lifted his glass, and swallowed half. He coughed a little and hissed, “Smooth.”

  Travis laughed. “Very smooth. When you sip it.”

  “I need more than a sip to get through this,” Gus told him. “Did your mother tell you about the show?”

  “Show?” Travis asked, his interest piqued.

  “The local fire and police departments have volunteered a handful of men to model bras decorated thematically,” Gus told him, raising his bushy eyebrows in a questioning-their-sanity look.

  Travis choked out a laugh. “Well, that will be a show. Will they have clothes on under the bras?”

  “Dear Lord, I hope so,” Gus answered, shaking his head. “Each bra represents something you can bid on.”

  “Huh.” Travis didn’t really have a response to that, so he lifted his glass and drained it without thinking. He hissed and made a face, then turned to the bartender and asked for two more.

  “So, your mom tells me you talked to Diana last night…” Gus started, allowing Travis the opportunity to fill him in.

  Travis looked down at his father. He stood nearly four inches taller, but he’d never defied the man. “I did.”

  Gus nodded. “Well, your mom didn’t like the idea of you talking to her.”

  “She made that clear,” Travis acknowledged with a grin.

  “I bet she did,” Gus said. He sobered and added, “You know, Travis, I always liked her, even when she was in trouble and the two of you split. She’s a good girl.”

  Travis stared at his father, surprised. “So you don’t think it’s a bad idea for me to talk to her.”

  Gus took a deep breath as he accepted his drink from the bartender with a nod. He looked into his son’s eyes and said, “Son, I want you to do what makes you happy. I know she used to. So I guess you have to decide if she still can.”

  Astounded by the information, Travis didn’t speak for several minutes. Finally, he asked, “How do you know I’m even thinking about talking to her again?”

 
“Your mom knows everything. You know that,” Gus told him, shaking his head as if his son was daft. “I’m heading back to the table. You ready?” The subject of Diana was closed.

  Travis braced himself as if heading into battle, eliciting a laugh from his dad. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Just rescue me if they try to drag me off.”

  “Your mother won’t let me,” Gus said seriously as he pushed away from the bar. Travis laughed and followed him, preparing for an onslaught of unwanted female attention for the next few hours.

  Chapter 4

  That evening, Travis came home the winner of a pack of tickets to a Saints game in the fall, which he’d won by bidding in the silent auction, and two tickets to see Ed Sheeran in two weeks that he’d bid on during the live auction. The Saints tickets had been approximately what he’d pay for them if he’d purchased them online, but the Ed Sheeran tickets had been incredibly expensive. However, he reasoned, the money was for finding the cure for breast cancer, so he felt it was money well spent.

  His father had been ecstatic about the Saints tickets, so they had made plans to go together and ask his cousin’s boys to come with them who hadn’t been before. Since Travis was an only child, his cousin’s children were the closest thing he had to nephews. On the other hand, his mother, who he thought liked Ed’s music, had no idea who he was, so what he thought was a gift for her was now a pair of tickets to a concert he would enjoy but had no one to take to.

  He lumbered into his house, thinking about all the work he needed to accomplish before Monday, but he needed some food first. The meal they’d served at the charity event had been tasty but sparse and a little too fancy for his palate. His father had announced a trip to a burger joint as they were leaving, but he wasn’t in the mood for greasy. He wanted a sub sandwich and potato chips, his favorite meal, so he’d stopped at a Jimmy John’s and ordered their tuna with no tomatoes, a bag of jalapeno chips, and a giant pickle cut into quarters. He stuck the bag in his fridge and hurried upstairs to change so he could enjoy his meal in comfort while he worked.

  The new contract with Doctors Smith and Cartwright needed another read-through before he sent it to them, and he needed to start the research for contractors to put in bids to renovate the building the doctors had purchased for their stand-alone ER. After changing, he returned to the kitchen, made himself a glass of iced tea in a Yeti he’d been given as a birthday present, grabbed his dinner, and meandered down the hall to his office.

  His phone beeped, announcing the arrival of an email, and the sound triggered the memory of the unsent message he’d planned for Diana. Now that time had lapsed, a touch of self-consciousness invaded his mind. What if she was simply being nice in accepting his friendship? She might not be the slightest bit interested in anything other than the informal, almost cold relationships social media offered.

  No, he thought, shaking his head as he unwrapped his sandwich and pickle, laying them out on the paper before dumping the entire bag of chips next to the sandwich, which smelled heavenly. His stomach growled as he took a bite of the sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. Diana had looked at him like she wanted to see more of him, and he’d heard the longing in her voice. When she said she missed him, she’d meant it, just as he had meant it. Sending her a friendly message—a hey, it was good seeing you—was perfectly fine and would start a conversation that might lead to a dinner.

  He smiled at himself, realizing that yes, he definitely wanted to see her, but the message had to begin with a friendly vibe rather than a romantic one. If she rejected him, he didn’t want to look like an idiot. He set the sandwich down and reached for his iPad plugged in behind him. He opened the messenger app, typed in her name, and stared at the blank space ready to be filled with his words.

  “Well, shit,” he cursed, his mind blank. Was one sentence enough? Again, he shook his head at himself for behaving like a teenager. You were with this woman for years! Stop being an idiot! he yelled internally. He knew her better than he knew anyone, so why was writing a simple message so hard?

  After another moment’s thought, he typed.

  Hi, Diana. It was so great seeing you last night. You looked beautiful. I hope you’re doing well. Hope we run into each other again.

  He read the note, pursed his lips, and decided it was as good as it was going to get. Sweet, lets her know I’m thinking about her and that I would like to see her again without actually asking her on a date, he decided, nodding. His finger hovered over the send arrow for a second, then he hit it and heard the little sound messenger made when a message was sent.

  Can’t get it back now, he thought, laying aside his iPad and picking up his sandwich. I hope she doesn’t think I’m an idiot.

  Diana had spent the day cleaning her small apartment, which meant sweeping and mopping, dusting, and laundry. What it didn’t mean was clutter. Diana notoriously left several days’ worth of mail sitting on the bar that separated her living room from the kitchen, and often she’d troop from her bedroom to the kitchen with at least five or six glasses in her hands. But her apartment smelled like the violet floor cleaner she used, and her laundry wasn’t piled up in the corner of her room taking up space.

  She timed her cleaning perfectly so she could walk to the two o’clock yoga class at the yoga studio she had found in her neighborhood. Yoga had been one of the pastimes suggested to her by the addiction counselor Cameron had sent her to. The meditation, the soothing movements and music, and the release of negativity she felt after every class had helped her forget about wanting to make the next bet. Even after she’d stopped seeing the counselor, she continued yoga and tried to go at least three times a week. Saturday afternoon she was a regular, but she had to switch around the weeknights due to working late when Cameron had a particularly difficult case.

  The yoga had also freed her mind from its obsession with Travis, which had fueled the gambling. Seeing him, though, had brought him to the forefront of her mind, but the thoughts weren’t obsessive. They were happy and, if she was being honest with herself, it made her happy that his Facebook revealed no relationships since they’d been together. As she moved into a new position, she wondered vaguely if he’d noticed she’d accepted his request. She lost her balance briefly, corrected, and opted to push the man out of her mind before she pulled a muscle.

  When she got home, completely relaxed and feeling good, she showered and made herself a chicken salad for dinner. She settled on her couch and turned on the third season of Breaking Bad, which was her favorite so far. She binge-watched regularly and had a list of shows she wanted to watch, including the entire run of American Horror Story and the new show based on the Archie comics, Riverdale. But she had to finish all five seasons of this first.

  Two shows in, she walked into the kitchen after pausing it for her single glass of red she enjoyed each night, her one indulgence. She only allowed one, sometimes two if she’d had a bad day, but that was the limit. Her Friday night out and about with Alyssa had been a rare drinking binge, but she hadn’t woken with a hangover, nor had she felt at all yucky. When she plopped back down with her wine, her phone pinged and lit up, notifying her of a Facebook message.

  She nearly spilled her drink when she saw Travis Hodges as the sender. Carefully, she set her glass on the coffee table and opened the app to read the message. Smirking, she thought he’d written the perfect nonchalant dude message. Vague, but the message’s purpose was clear. He wanted her to know he was thinking about her, but he didn’t want to put too much of himself out there.

  Diana thought it was adorable that he would write her a message like that, especially since they’d been together for so long. Tickled, she pondered her response. She knew for certain that he was the love of her life. But she didn’t think they could put the past completely behind them. She would have high expectations of him not working so much, which he would probably not reach, and he would always wonder if she was going to gamble away their savings. Their trust had been broken five years ago, and getting it
back was a hard battle she wasn’t sure she had the strength for.

  On the other hand, she mused as she reached for her glass to sip her wine. She rested the glass against her hip and switched apps to a mindless solitaire game while she thought about the pros and cons of a renewed relationship with Travis. He wouldn’t have contacted her if he didn’t want to see her, she knew that for sure. He would have liked a few of her posts, but no message would have come if he wasn’t interested in seeing her.

  She switched apps again to her notes and began to type her list.

  Pros: he’s the love of my life, I’ll never love someone like him, he always made me laugh, he seems to have his life together, he’s gorgeous, and he’s rich

  She felt a little weird putting the last one on the list, but it definitely was a pro. She wouldn’t ask for any of it, wouldn’t spend a dime of it, though, if they were to get back together, not until he trusted her completely again. Which brought her to the cons.

  Cons: he might still be a workaholic, which I’m not dealing with again, he probably wouldn’t trust me with his money, we’d probably have to go to counselling to settle all the unresolved issues

  Her heart screamed at her to reply, to ask him out, to invite him over, and her heart was much louder than her brain. She read his message again and composed her answer carefully, reading it several times before pressing send. She shook her head at herself because she was so nervous, like she was talking to a new guy. But when she thought about it, the Travis she had talked to at the bar the night before was a new man, and she was a very different woman. This would be a different relationship, if one happened.

  Hey, Travis, it was great seeing you, too. I’m doing very well. I work for a lawyer, Cameron Rhodens, and love it. Thank you for the compliment. You looked pretty darn sexy yourself. It would be fun to hang out.

  She added a winky face emoji after the sexy line and a smiley face at the end, hoping to give the message a happy, fun tone. With a tilt of her head, she remembered that she had asked him out for their first date, and she had always been the more forward of the two. That hasn’t changed, she thought nostalgically, knowing he’d always appreciated her forwardness as she had enjoyed his shyness. She hit the send arrow, closed the app, and sat back with her wine. She had time for two more episodes if she wanted to be in bed at a decent hour, but she remembered it was Saturday, so she might indulge and watch three. She pushed play on the remote and sat back to enjoy the drug-cooking main character when her phone pinged.