Family Camp (Daddy Dearest, #1)(63)
Of course, Travis wouldn’t do that on purpose, Geo knew that. But he was so proud of Travis for just…just fucking being honest and real and, God, Geo lo—
Geo just liked and admired the hell out of the guy.
Teresa talked about setting an example, and they talked about young kids and more about Travis growing up as a foster kid, and it was good. Travis’s nervousness appeared to subside, and the host did an awesome job of making him look human and likeable and, oh God.
Travis had come out to the entire world.
“One more thing I’m dying to ask you before you go,” Teresa said, a sparkle in her eye.
“Go ahead,” said Travis.
“The guy you were with in the photos. Is he your boyfriend? Partner? Is this a long-term thing?”
“Oh, crap,” Geo muttered.
“Holy shit!” Jayden crowed.
“Jayden, language.”
“Um…” Travis smiled sheepishly and blushed. He actually blushed. And it was the best reason for HD TV that Geo had ever seen in his life. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. We haven’t known each other long. But he’s a great guy, and he’s raising two terrific kids. So. We’ll see.”
Geo missed the part where Teresa said goodbye and cut to commercial because he was hyperventilating and because Jayden leaped up and accidently stomped on Geo’s foot as he jumped around in victory.
Chapter 30
Geo checked the chicken in the oven for the tenth time. It was done, and he was just trying to keep it warm, hoping it wouldn’t dry out.
Which was a metaphor for romance, really.
He put the salt and pepper on the dining room table. Earlier, there’d been candles and a book of matches on the table too. But that had seemed too “anniversary” or “happy Bar Mitzvah” or something, so he’d removed them. God the pressure! Now there were just two place settings and glasses for wine.
He checked his watch. Any minute now.
Please God, let this not be a disaster. I’ll give up RuPaul’s Drag Race, I swear.
Since Travis had come out on national TV, there’d been a flurry of news stories about him. His photo was on the CNN homepage for a week. And of course, everyone in the world had an opinion, good and bad. Fans, news anchors, and even congressmen weighed in. Should there be gay athletes in professional sports? Yadda, yadda, yadda.
It was stupid in Geo’s estimation. Why did they have to make it such a big deal? But there’d been plenty of support for Travis too, and that was nice to see. And at least Geo and the kids had been spared. Travis always deflected questions away from “the guy in the photos,” as had James Mayhew when reporters called the camp asking questions. Plus, Travis had hired a PR firm that had been very aggressive about protecting their identities. Fortunately, the press seemed happy to focus on Travis since he was the celeb. Fortunately for Geo anyway.
Travis had sent Geo an email explaining some of the details—advice from his PR firm and lawyers, their legal rights, etc. In the email, Travis said he hoped Geo and the kids were okay, and he hoped to see them soon.
Since then, there’d been half a dozen text messages. Just brief things like “Miss you,” “Hope you’re okay,” and “Tell Jayden and Lucy I said Hi.” He’d sent a few photos of Max for Lucy.
It wasn’t much in terms of actual word count or depth of feeling expressed. But it was everything to Geo. At least Travis was reaching out to him. He wasn’t trying to pretend they didn’t exist, that camp had never happened. And he wasn’t angry at Geo. In fact, he was taking pains to make sure any impact on them was minimized.
That was very much not asshole behavior. It was anti-asshole, actually. And damn, Geo missed him and longed for a real conversation.
Now Travis was coming to Geo’s house. The Padres had a game in Oakland. The team took a plane, but Travis drove so he could stop by Fresno. Which was awfully committed of him, Geo thought. Because it was almost a nine-hour drive from San Diego to Oakland, and nobody on God’s green earth wanted to drive on I-5 through Fresno Valley in August. So he had to want to see Geo pretty damn bad.
He was due any minute. And Geo was freaking out.
It had been only two weeks since the shit had hit the fan and Geo had woken at camp to find Travis gone. But so much had changed it felt longer. Geo had gone back and forth telling himself maybe it would work out and telling himself not to get his hopes up, to just let it go. But no matter what he told himself, he ached for Travis in a purely physical way—his touch, his presence, his smiles, his deep voice. And yeah, his hot kisses and killer bod.
But also, Geo had been shunted to the side in this entire melodrama. And that felt wrong. He should be by Travis’s side, helping him through this, standing up for him as one of the two people involved in this “scandal.” He realized he was really a very small cog in the whole thing, that the other guy in the photos could, technically, have been anyone. But still—he wished Travis hadn’t had to face this alone.
The doorbell rang, causing Geo to about jump out of his skin. He checked himself one last time in the mirror—navy shorts with a crisp navy and white linen shirt, which was the best thing he could dig up to wear in August when it was a hundred-and-five degrees outside. He wiped a bit of chicken grease off his nose. Classy. The knock came again, and he hurried to open the door.