Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(49)

“But Iron Man is rich,” Travis said, smiling.

Charlie shook his head as he walked away and opened the door to his room. “But he doesn’t have any real powers.”

Travis’s heart stopped as he took in Charlie’s room. For the most part, posters of comics and superheroes covered the walls, but on the same wall his bed was pushed against were posters of Travis. His first album cover. Performing live at one of his concerts. Facing Charlie, he asked, “So, you’ve known about me for a long time, huh?”

“Yeah, Mom told me about you when I was five. Even made me a scrapbook.” Charlie ran to his nightstand and opened a drawer, pulling out a leather-bound book. Travis sat down on the bed, and Charlie hopped up next to him, handing him the book.

Travis opened it to find his Rock Canyon High School ID card and his football picture on the first page. I wonder how she got that.

“The next couple of pages are of you performing, and then there are some photos of you and Uncle Mike at the river. My favorite pages are toward the end, though.” Charlie reached over him and flipped the pages until he reached the one he wanted. “There. These are of you and Mom.”

Sure enough, there were pictures of Gemma and him hugging in the quad at school, making weird faces for the camera. The next page held their prom pictures and a couple of snapshots from that night. There were pictures from Stephanie and Jared Brown’s wedding that summer, and their photo-booth pictures from the fair. After that, though, it was just clippings from magazines following his career. Travis was touched, tears pricking his eyes as he turned the last few pages.

How could she take so much time making sure his son knew everything about him without giving Charlie the chance to really know him?

Closing the scrapbook with a slap, he tried to smile through the pain. “So, why don’t you show me where I’m sleeping?”


Charlie jumped up readily. “Sure, follow me. It used to be Mom’s room when she was a kid.”

Travis let Charlie lead him back downstairs, even though he knew the way well. He’d spent the better part of two years in that room. Around the base of the stairs and through the kitchen, Gemma’s old room was at the end of a narrow hallway. Opening the door, Charlie stepped back and spread his arms with the flourish of an entertainer.

“Here it is,” Charlie said.

The furniture was made of cherry and tasteful. When Gemma had slept here, there had been an iron bed frame and a white vanity dresser with stars painted along the side. Gone were the posters of *NSYNC, wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with books, and the bright purple butterfly bedspread. A simple navy comforter with several blue-and-white-striped pillows adorned the bed, and there was a nightstand and dresser, but nothing else.

“Wanna set your stuff down and grab an ice cream bar?”

Turning to his son, who was practically hopping from foot to foot, he said, “Sure. Ice cream sounds awesome.”





Chapter Fifteen




* * *





GEMMA HAD CALLED Rico’s Pizza before leaving work for a to-go order, but she wasn’t really hungry. Her nerves were too frazzled to think about dinner. She had tried calling Mike several times, but he kept sending her straight to voice mail. Callie and Gracie had come by for lunch, and Callie had told her to give him time. Gracie hadn’t said much, which was unusual for her. Then again, she had already voiced her opinion and Gemma had ignored her, so maybe she figured there was nothing more to add.

All day she’d been stressing and worrying about how she was going to handle this whole crazy situation. In one weekend she had turned her entire life upside down, and all because she couldn’t say no to her ex-boyfriend.

He’s not my ex-boyfriend anymore, he’s my husband. My super-hot husband, with whom I’ve broken my long-standing celibacy and who is now living under my roof.

Not that he was interested in her anymore; he’d made that perfectly clear. But when he’d grabbed her hand, she’d still felt that tug in her lower abdomen. How could something so strong be one-sided?

Don’t go there again. This situation is about Travis and Charlie, not your reawakened hormones.

Walking into Rico’s, she wished she could quiet that little voice in her head. It had absolutely no problem saying exactly what it meant, and it was annoying.

Rico stood behind the counter, a scruffy Italian man with silver at his temples and a thick New York accent, even though he’d been living in Rock Canyon for nearly twenty years.

“Hey, Rico. I called in an order,” Gemma said.

“I saw it, and don’t you worry, I fixed it for you,” Rico said, putting two large pizza boxes and a plastic salad container on the counter.

Gemma stared at the enormous amount of food. “But I only ordered a medium pizza and a salad.”

“Yes, but your new husband used to finish a whole one by himself, so I made him a special pie. You tell him to come see me soon, okay? Oh, and don’t you worry about the salad for the party; Vicky is making a spinach salad with fresh strawberries, feta, and candied walnuts, with a red wine vinaigrette.” Kissing the tips of his fingers, he added, “Fantastico.”

“Party? Rico, what party?” Gemma asked, handing him her debit card and dreading his answer.

“Your reception. Hope Weathers told Vicky, and Vicky told me that we were in charge of the salad, although just so you know, I make excellent gnocchi with a spicy cheese sauce, if you want an Italian menu instead.” He swiped her card and handed it back to her, smiling at whoever had just walked in behind her.