She’d flown down to tell him in person, feeling as though their relationship deserved that much, hoping things could end amicably as he was close with Owen. But he’d shot down that hope. He pinned the fault on her, calling it a choice, acting as if she’d chosen her family over him, which wasn’t the case. She wanted to be together, but her family needed her at that time and Travis wouldn’t give up the bistro in Aruba. In her mind, he was the one who’d said no to a future together. And had confirmed it by burying his face in another woman’s lap.
“If that were true—” his gaze was hot “—then you wouldn’t have spent the majority of this evening avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding. I’m one of the hosts. I have guests to greet, mingling to do.” Her chest felt tight, her cheeks hot.
“I’m moving back.”
What? Okay, fine. Did he want a parade? “Congratulations.”
“Aren’t you going to ask why?” He cocked his head, that charming grin that used to make her weak in the knees playing around his lips. She hated to acknowledge that it still made her knees wobble slightly.
She locked them tight. “I’m sure it doesn’t matter to me.” Because they weren’t together and whatever city Travis decided to call home had no effect on her life.
“My gram.”
Those might have been the only two words in the English language to stop Mal from simply turning on her heel and exiting the conversation. She loved his grandma. Mildred Dawes was small and gray and, as she liked to claim, “full of beans.” Her love of life and family touched Mal in a way she hadn’t known before meeting the woman.
Mal swallowed the angry words, the hurt feelings, and looked at Travis. “Is she okay?”
Mildred was just one of the many things Mal had lost when she and Travis had gone their separate ways. Mal didn’t remember any of her grandparents. Two had died before she was born, the others when she’d still been too young to form full sentences, but Mildred had acted as a pseudo grandparent, instilling common sense and down-home wisdom whenever she thought it necessary. And, according to Mildred, it was often necessary.
Travis smiled. “She’s fine now. She had a little scare with her lungs that turned into pneumonia, but she’s recovered. It’ll take more than that to keep her down.”
Mal reached out without thinking and put her hand on Travis’s arm. The heat seared her palm and she jerked it back. “I hadn’t heard. I...I’m glad she’s okay.”
“Me, too.” He smiled. “It sort of brought home the truth about what I was doing with my own life.”
She didn’t want to know. She’d given up her right to curiosity about Travis’s life when she’d walked out of his office and never looked back. “And what was that?” She curled her fingers into her palms.
“I thought I needed the business, but it’s not worth much without the people you love.”
Her nails bit into flesh even as she told herself he wasn’t referring to her. Even if he was, it was too late.
“I sold the bistro.”
“What?” She blinked, glad she’d already locked her knees as it prevented her from reeling.
They’d opened the gorgeous beachside restaurant in Aruba together. Had planned to work there for a few years, watch it grow and enjoy the Caribbean lifestyle. And then her father had had a heart attack and Mal had been needed at home. When she’d explained to Travis, she’d thought he understood. Her family needed her. She had to go back. But he hadn’t. Apparently he’d thought the business and his life on the beach were more important. Before she’d even gotten on the flight to go back home, he’d been consoling himself with another woman.
“I had some interest from buyers. Once things happened with my gram...” Travis shrugged. “I decided to take them up on it.” His eyes caught hers, held. “I’ve missed you, Mal.”
She swallowed, tried to breathe in some clarity and muttered, “Can’t have missed me that much.” Seeing as he’d never once contacted her since she left Aruba.
“I did.” He reached for her hand. “I was just too stubborn to admit it.”
She pulled her hand back. “Well, now I’m too stubborn to believe you.”
He studied her for a moment, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve really missed you.”
Had he really? She looked at him, risked staring deep into those dark eyes she knew so well—had looked into so many times before. What she saw there scared her. Not the fallacy of a glib tongue or polite conversation. But naked honesty. Yet she just couldn’t. She wasn’t that Mal anymore. Couldn’t be. “It’s been too long, Travis.”
“Has it?”
Mal didn’t know what to say to that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew what she should say, what her head told her to say, but there was that little matter of her heart. So she kept her silence, managing only a quick nod.
“Mal.”
She shook her head so violently that she felt it in her temples. “No, Travis. I don’t want to talk here.”
“Then let’s go somewhere else.”
Mal shot him a look. “It’s Owen’s wedding. I’m not leaving.”
But she should have known that wouldn’t be enough. Travis had grown up in a small paper-mill town, a rough and tumble place where he’d learned to push for what he wanted and fight when necessary. Polite platitudes and dressed-up words wouldn’t put him off.
“Then we’ll talk later. After the reception. You tell me a good time and I’ll make it happen.” He took a step toward her. “Midnight. Six in the morning. Three days from now. I don’t care. I’ll be available.”
“Travis.” She didn’t finish. He didn’t give her the chance.
“I’m only asking for one conversation. Just one and then you’ll never have to talk to me again.”
The old Mal would have agreed. Would have heard him out. But the old Mal had been burned by this man and she shied away from allowing it to happen a second time. “I should go. Say hello to the other guests.”
She walked away before he could say anything else. She couldn’t listen to it, not now. And with each footfall, the surprise and shock of Travis’s homecoming turned to something she could hang on to. Something sharp and hot and angry.
Mal headed around the house, following the same path Owen had earlier. Seriously, if it wasn’t his wedding she’d have had to kill him. In fact, she might have to do it anyway. Grace would understand. There were certain behaviors that were just not okay. Forcing your sister into a chat with her ex ranked right up there.
“What were you thinking, Owen?” She didn’t care that she was interrupting him making out with Grace. They should be out mingling with the crowd, anyway.
“Busy here, Mal,” Owen said, his eyes still on Grace. But then that was nothing new. When Grace was in the vicinity, Owen’s eyes tracked her. Even now, when she was pressed up against the side of the house with nowhere to go and his arms around her, Owen’s gaze shifted when Grace did. Mal pretended she didn’t remember that Travis had once been the same around her.
“Yes, I can see that. But I’d like you to explain why you dragged me into a conversation with Travis.” Even now, Mal could feel the flush of embarrassment warm her cheeks. She was glad the reception was outdoors, and although it had been an unseasonably warm March, it was hardly summer weather.
“Looks like you survived.” He stroked a finger down Grace’s