going home. “I’ll let you get back to work,” she said before hanging up. “We’ll see you on Friday. Your dad’s looking forward to seeing you. He misses you.”
It took everything he had not to laugh out loud. His dad missed him? His dad could visit anytime he wanted. Travis lived the same forty minutes away that Conner did, and Travis knew he’d been to Conner’s house plenty of times since the baby was born. Travis’s phone worked just fine, too. His dad didn’t miss him. His dad missed who he had been. He didn’t have the time of day for this version of his son.
Travis didn’t dare bring up the trouble with his dad. It was better his mom thought everything between them was fine. Travis had grown up in a house where he was taught not to worry his mother.
He hung up and scrubbed his face with his hands. This Friday was going to be torture. It was time for him to face all the people who’d supported him and his career all these years. He had to suffer through all their condolences, sympathetic looks and pats on the back. Best of all, Summer would be there to witness it, giving her more reason to think he was a loser.
His relationship with Summer was shaky at best. She hated football. She was unfazed by the dimples. All the things that made him so desirable to women in the past had no effect on her. There was no reason for her to agree to meet his mother. Still, Travis was a glutton for punishment. He got up and perched himself on the corner of her desk. She smelled like spring—fresh and flowery.
“So, we’re going to the Sweetwater homecoming game this weekend.” He picked up her paper clip holder, which she promptly took away from him and set back down. “Do you know what that means?”
Refusing to look at him, Summer sighed. “It means I need to bring earplugs to protect my hearing from the screaming fans and my abundance of indifference to make sure your head doesn’t get too big.”
“Ha-ha.” Considering he was coming back a has-been, there was no danger of an overinflated head. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“Oh, come on, the fair prince is returning to his kingdom,” she said with a flourish of her hand.
Little did she know, his trip to Sweetwater was more like the return of the prodigal son. He had squandered his chances of fame and fortune and could only hope his father would forgive him. This was a bad idea. Inviting her to his parents’ house was asking her to make things too personal between them. He’d tell his mom she couldn’t make it. He’d do a brief introduction at the game and that would be that. “Never mind.”
He headed back to his desk and pulled up his script for the five o’clock newscast. He tried putting some of the report in his own words to make it easier to regurgitate.
“So what does it mean?” Summer pressed. She folded her arms across her chest. “And don’t say nothing.”
Leaning back in his chair, his fingers nervously drummed on his thighs. “It means I’m going home, and maybe you’d ride with me instead of in the station van. We could stop by my parents’ before the game. My mom’s a big fan of yours.” Her bluebird eyes widened a bit. “I told her I could probably get her some one-on-one time with you if she made cupcakes.”
“Cupcakes? The red velvet ones?”
“Those are the ones,” he said, managing a smile. It was humiliating to need a bribe.
She pondered his request for a second or two. “Did you know there was a tornado in Sweetwater back in 1986 that developed with little warning and caused almost fifteen million dollars in damages?” Her voice was a little higher than normal.
Travis figured that was better than a no. “My parents lived in Sweetwater back in ’86. My mom might be able to give you a firsthand account of that tornado.”
Interest flickered in her eyes. “Don’t tease me.”
“No lie,” he said, making a mental note to call his mother immediately and make sure she knew
It took everything he had not to laugh out loud. His dad missed him? His dad could visit anytime he wanted. Travis lived the same forty minutes away that Conner did, and Travis knew he’d been to Conner’s house plenty of times since the baby was born. Travis’s phone worked just fine, too. His dad didn’t miss him. His dad missed who he had been. He didn’t have the time of day for this version of his son.
Travis didn’t dare bring up the trouble with his dad. It was better his mom thought everything between them was fine. Travis had grown up in a house where he was taught not to worry his mother.
He hung up and scrubbed his face with his hands. This Friday was going to be torture. It was time for him to face all the people who’d supported him and his career all these years. He had to suffer through all their condolences, sympathetic looks and pats on the back. Best of all, Summer would be there to witness it, giving her more reason to think he was a loser.
His relationship with Summer was shaky at best. She hated football. She was unfazed by the dimples. All the things that made him so desirable to women in the past had no effect on her. There was no reason for her to agree to meet his mother. Still, Travis was a glutton for punishment. He got up and perched himself on the corner of her desk. She smelled like spring—fresh and flowery.
“So, we’re going to the Sweetwater homecoming game this weekend.” He picked up her paper clip holder, which she promptly took away from him and set back down. “Do you know what that means?”
Refusing to look at him, Summer sighed. “It means I need to bring earplugs to protect my hearing from the screaming fans and my abundance of indifference to make sure your head doesn’t get too big.”
“Ha-ha.” Considering he was coming back a has-been, there was no danger of an overinflated head. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“Oh, come on, the fair prince is returning to his kingdom,” she said with a flourish of her hand.
Little did she know, his trip to Sweetwater was more like the return of the prodigal son. He had squandered his chances of fame and fortune and could only hope his father would forgive him. This was a bad idea. Inviting her to his parents’ house was asking her to make things too personal between them. He’d tell his mom she couldn’t make it. He’d do a brief introduction at the game and that would be that. “Never mind.”
He headed back to his desk and pulled up his script for the five o’clock newscast. He tried putting some of the report in his own words to make it easier to regurgitate.
“So what does it mean?” Summer pressed. She folded her arms across her chest. “And don’t say nothing.”
Leaning back in his chair, his fingers nervously drummed on his thighs. “It means I’m going home, and maybe you’d ride with me instead of in the station van. We could stop by my parents’ before the game. My mom’s a big fan of yours.” Her bluebird eyes widened a bit. “I told her I could probably get her some one-on-one time with you if she made cupcakes.”
“Cupcakes? The red velvet ones?”
“Those are the ones,” he said, managing a smile. It was humiliating to need a bribe.
She pondered his request for a second or two. “Did you know there was a tornado in Sweetwater back in 1986 that developed with little warning and caused almost fifteen million dollars in damages?” Her voice was a little higher than normal.
Travis figured that was better than a no. “My parents lived in Sweetwater back in ’86. My mom might be able to give you a firsthand account of that tornado.”
Interest flickered in her eyes. “Don’t tease me.”
“No lie,” he said, making a mental note to call his mother immediately and make sure she knew
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