It was strange, he hadn’t really thought of his previous relationships in this light. He usually didn’t think about them at all. Somehow, spending time with Gabby made him think about what he’d been missing. He replayed their conversations in his head, realizing that he wanted more of them, more of her. He shouldn’t have kissed her, he thought with a burst of uncharacteristic anxiety-he had gone too far. But now, all he could do was wait and see, and hope she didn’t change her mind about coming with him tomorrow. What could he do? Nothing, he realized. Nothing at all.
“How’d it go?” Stephanie asked.
Feeling foggy the following morning, Travis could barely open his eyes. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s early, though.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because I want to know how dinner went with Gabby.”
“Is the sun even up?”
“Don’t change the subject. Spill it.”
“You’re being awfully nosy about this.”
“I’m a nosy gal. But don’t worry. You already told me the answer.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly. I assume you’re seeing her today, too?”
Travis pulled the phone away and stared at it, wondering how his sister always seemed to know everything.
“Steph-”
“Tell her I said hey. But listen, I gotta go. Thanks for keeping me informed.”
She hung up before he had a chance to respond.
Gabby’s first thought upon waking the next morning was that she liked to think of herself as a good person. Growing up, she’d always tried to follow the rules. She kept her room clean, studied for exams, did her best to mind her manners around her parents.
It wasn’t last night’s kiss that had her doubting her integrity. She hadn’t had anything to do with that-that was all Travis. And the day had been innocent enough-she’d be perfectly happy telling Kevin all about it. No, her guilt had more to do with the fact that she’d willingly returned for dinner with Travis. If she had been honest with herself, she could have anticipated Travis’s agenda and headed off the situation. Especially at the end. What had she been thinking?
As for Kevin… talking to him hadn’t done much to erase the memory.
She’d called him last night after she’d gotten back to her house. As his cell phone rang, she’d prayed he wouldn’t detect the guilt in her tone. No problem there, she’d quickly realized; they could barely hear each other at all, since he’d answered the phone while in a nightclub.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said, “I just wanted to call-”
“Hey, Gabby!” he interrupted. “It’s really loud in here, so speak up.”
He shouted so loudly that she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “I can tell.”
“What?”
“I said it sounds noisy!” she shouted back. “I take it you’re having a good time?”
“I can barely hear you! What did you say?”
In the background, she heard a woman’s voice asking if he wanted another vodka tonic; Kevin’s answer was lost in the cacophony.
“Where are you?”
“I’m not sure of the name. Just some club!”
“What kind of club?”
“Just someplace these other guys wanted to go! No big deal!”
“I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
“Speak up!”
She brought her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezed. “I just wanted to talk. I miss you.”
“Yeah, miss you, too, but I’ll be home in a few days! Listen, though…”
“I know, I know-you’ve got to go.”
“Let me call you back tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Love you!”
“Love you, too.”
Gabby hung up, annoyed. She’d just wanted to talk to him, but she supposed she should have known better. Conventions had a way of turning grown men back into adolescents-she’d witnessed that firsthand at a medical convention she’d attended in Birmingham a few months ago. By day, meetings were packed with earnest, serious-minded doctors; at night, she’d watched from her hotel window as they’d traveled in packs, drunk too much, and generally made fools of themselves. No harm in that. She didn’t believe for a moment that he had gotten himself into trouble or done anything he’d regret.
Like kiss someone else?
She threw back the covers, really wishing she could stop thinking about that. She didn’t want to think about the weight of Travis’s hand on her hip as he’d pulled her toward him, and she definitely didn’t want to think about the way his lips felt against hers or the electric spark she’d felt because of it. Still, as she headed for the shower, something else was bugging her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Turning on the water, she found herself wondering if-in the brief instant it had happened-she’d also kissed him back.
Unable to go back to sleep after Stephanie’s call, Travis went jogging. Afterward, he’d tossed his surfboard in the back of his truck and driven across the bridge to Bogue Banks. After parking in the Sheraton Hotel lot, he hefted his board and made for the water. He wasn’t alone; there were a dozen others who’d had the same idea, and he waved at a few he recognized. Like Travis, most wouldn’t stay long; the best waves came early and would be gone as soon as the tide shifted. But it was still the perfect way to start the day.
The water was brisk-in another month, it would be nearly perfect-and he paddled over the swells, trying to get into rhythm. He wasn’t a great surfer-in Bali, he’d studied some of the monster waves and shook his head, knowing that if he even attempted to ride them, he’d probably be killed-but he was good enough to enjoy himself.
He was used to being alone. Laird was the other surfer in his group of friends, but he hadn’t gone with Travis in years. Ashley and Melinda, two former girlfriends, had gone surfing with him a few times in the past-but neither ever seemed able to meet him on the spur of the moment, and typically, by the time they arrived, he was just finishing up, which threw the morning out of whack. And as usual, it had been up to him to suggest the activity in the first place.
He was, he realized, a little disappointed in himself for choosing the same type of woman over and over. No wonder Allison and Megan liked to give him such a hard time. It must have been like watching the same play with different actors, the outcome always the same. As he lay on the surfboard, watching the swells approach, he realized that the same thing that made women initially attractive to him-their need to be taken care of-was the very thing that eventually signaled the end of the relationship. How did that old saying go? If you’ve been divorced once, you might be right in thinking your ex was the problem. If you’ve been divorced three times? Well, folks, the problem is most definitely you. Granted, he hadn’t been divorced, but the point was well taken.
It amazed him that all this soul-searching seemed prompted by his day with Gabby. Gabby, the woman who’d falsely accused him, consistently avoided him, overtly antagonized him, and then made a point of repeatedly mentioning that she was in love with someone else. Go figure.
Behind him a swell seemed promising, and Travis began to paddle hard, maneuvering himself into the best possible position. Despite the glory of the day and the pleasures of the ocean, he couldn’t escape the truth: What he really wanted to do was to spend as much time as possible with Gabby, for as long as he possibly could.
“Good morning,” Kevin said into the phone, just as Gabby was getting ready to leave. Gabby moved the receiver to her other shoulder.
“Oh, hey,” she answered. “How are you?”
“Good. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about the call last night. I wanted to call you when I got back to the room to apologize, but by then it was pretty late.”
“It’s okay. You sounded like you were having fun.”
“It was less thrilling than you probably think. The music was so loud that my ears are still ringing. I don’t know why I went with those guys in the first place. I should have known I was in trouble when they started doing shots right after dinner, but someone had to keep an eye on them.”