Chapter 30
[Vee]
I wake from the sudden click of my front door closing. Swiftly, I shift my head on the pillow. Ross is still beside me, snuggled up close to my side. His arm drapes over my middle as I lie partially on my back, the other part of me resting against him.
Movement in my kitchen which is just outside my bedroom door snags my attention.
“Ross,” I whisper-hush. “I think one of my girls is home.”
Ross leans into me, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. We did not have sex last night. Not the conventional kind, but clearly the oral variety.
After our moment in my living room, we came to my bedroom where we shyly watched one another undress.
Ross took care in removing his dress shirt and folding his slacks over a hanger I offered him.
I had trouble with the zipper on the back of my dress and he helped me lower it, reminding me of our first encounter.
This time, his knuckles slid down my spine after the zipper was separated.
“I love your back.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me.”
Ross Davis has been a first in many ways.
“Ross,” I whisper a little louder. “My daughter is here.”
His eyes ping open, startling me with their brightness. “And?” He tips up his thick brows.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?” His sleepy voice is gruff. His deeply pinched brows expressing his confusion.
I’ve never introduced my girls to a man in my life. Never had a man worthy of being introduced to them. And Ross walking out of my bedroom with me would make quite a statement. One I’m not certain we’re ready to make, even if we discussed an us only last night.
What I say instead is, “Because you didn’t want anyone to know about us.”
“I never said that.” His eyes widen.
Now doesn’t feel like the time to argue with him, nor remind him that the first time we met, he said no one should know about our night together. We weren’t public in Arizona. Silly superstition.
His pinched brows deepen. His eyes darken. “Lots of people know about us.”
“Kip and Cassandra.” A whole two people.
“You met Harley.”
“That was different.” Harley was an unexpected surprise in Ross’s home. I realize that’s not too dissimilar from whomever might be in my kitchen and just dropped something heavy on the floor.
“Well, I’m not climbing out the window.” His tone is disgruntled, possibly hurt.
“Just . . . just stay in here until I can get rid of her.” Another first. Something I never thought I’d say as a grown adult, before I scramble from my bed, rushing to slip on a pair of loose leggings.
Not bothering to change the T-shirt I wore to bed, because whichever daughter is in my kitchen won’t mind bra-less mom.
I slip my fingers through my hair, conscious that Ross is watching me as I step around the bed.
He shifts quickly and efficiently, climbing up to his knees and snagging my wrist to catch my attention before I open the bedroom door.
“Hey,” he whispers when I spin to face him. Proud chest on display. A thick wedge in his snug boxer briefs. “Good morning.” He slips his hand to the back of my head and kisses me in a rough greeting that leaves me a little dizzy when he releases me.
“Stay,” I warn, poking at his chest before I slip out my bedroom door, quickly closing it behind me.
Laurel tips back from behind the open freezer door. My brown-haired beauty’s face lights up when she sees me.
“Hey,” she greets me like it’s perfectly normal for her to be standing in my kitchen, unscheduled or unannounced, rummaging through my freezer.
“Hey, baby. What are you doing here?”
“I was out of frozen waffles.”
“Uhm. So you came to my house?” Go to a freakin’ grocery store.
“You were closer than the store.”
“Do I even have frozen waffles?” I stopped food shopping specifically for my girls a long time ago unless their visits are planned.
“No.” She sighs and shuts the freezer door before facing me. “The Syrup Tap?”
“Is this your way of asking if I’ll take you there?” I laugh. She isn’t asking me out to breakfast, she’s asking me to take her to breakfast.
“I live on a teacher’s salary.” Her hand comes to the hip she juts out to punctuate her financial status.
“And I live on a starving artist’s one,” I tease. “But give me a few minutes and we can go.” The excuse is perfect, allowing me time to change and slip out of my own apartment before I’m caught with Ross Davis in my bedroom.
Only, said bedroom door opens and out walks the man himself. Suit pants and dress shirt on, but shirt untucked with only a few buttons near his waist fastened. His shoes are in his hand, socks tucked within them.
Laurel’s mouth falls open. She lifts her hand, twisting it at the wrist to point behind me.
“Mom.” Her voice is a strangled cry of shock, like she’s frozen by the sight of a great big hairy spider on the wall.
“Mom,” she repeats, not blinking.
“Mom.” She sounds like she did as an insistent child, as if she doesn’t have my full attention. “Ross Davis.”
I shift, glancing over my shoulder while Ross crosses the very short distance in my narrow kitchen from my open bedroom door to me. He presses a kiss to my shoulder.
“Mom. Ross Davis just came out of your bedroom.”
“I know.” I sigh, a little embarrassed. Not by Ross but by the implication of what might have happened in my bedroom when nothing happened in there. It happened in the living room. In my bedroom, we talked more about Harley and then kids in general as they reach adulthood.
Which Laurel is clearly displaying she hasn’t mastered, especially when she states in shock, “You’re Ross Davis.”
“I am.”
“Coach of the Chicago Anchors.”
“Yes,” he says, slipping a hand around my back and squeezing my hip.
“Hot silver fox,” she chokes.
“Uhm?” Ross chuckles.
“Laurel!”
“And you just came out of my mom’s bedroom.”
“Okay. I think Ross was just leaving and you and I can talk on the way to The Syrup Tap.”
“Isn’t that where you took Harley?” Ross asks, his voice close to my ear.
As I’m watching Laurel, her mouth gapes again before she says, “You went out with Harley Davis?”
For half a second, the announcement sounds like a reverse harem romance where the woman dates the dad and the son. Something I have no interest in doing, nor am I attracted to men young enough for me to be their mother!
“Laurel,” I say a bit sharply.
“I think I’ll let you explain that one.” Ross chuckles behind me, then kisses my cheek. “I should probably go.”
He steps away from me and addresses Laurel. “Nice to meet you.” He doesn’t offer a hand but tips up his chin. Laurel melts.
As Ross heads down the hallway leading to the front door, I hold up a finger to Laurel suggesting I want her to stay. Pinned to the hardwood floor, still in utter shock, I don’t think she’d move if I asked.
“Wait,” I call after Ross, quickly following him. He pauses near my front door and turns to face me. Lowering my voice, I ask, “What am I supposed to tell her?”
Ross stares at me a long minute. “Are you embarrassed by us?”
“No.” I choke. “I just thought you wanted to . . . not be public.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to be public?” His eyes widen and then narrow, suspicious. “Unless you don’t want to be public?”
The thought of Ross Davis being my dirty little secret is almost laughable. Who would I be hiding him from? He’s the one with fans and paparazzi.
Still, I don’t answer his question. I don’t know how, so I snap. “This was your sleeping arrangement.”
“Let’s be clear.” Ross stands to his full height.
“The only sleeping arrangement is me in your bed. Or you in mine. Us. Together. We’re more than some arrangement, Vee.
” He lets out a loud huff. “So let’s have all the kids meet.
Clear the air in one breath. We’re public.
” His eyes narrow at me. “Exclusive. Monogamous.”
I swallow down his meaning. “Okay,” I whisper.
“Dinner. My place. Tomorrow night.”
“What?” I snap again, surprised by how quickly he wants to make us public with our kids. I also remind him, “Hannah is in Milwaukee.”
“That’s only an hour away. Ask her to come home. And Landon will be home tomorrow anyway. He’s going to the matinee performance of Harley’s play.”
“Don’t you have a game tomorrow?” It’s almost sad that I have his schedule memorized.
“Day game. I’ll cook dinner.” Then Ross leans forward, kissing me a little longer than a quick out-the-door kiss, and I’m left breathless and staring at the back of the shut door after his exit.
“Mom?” Laurel calls from the opposite end of the hallway, clearly confused by Ross’s presence.
Maybe even more flabbergasted by the fact he kissed me.
And now we’ve been invited to dinner at his place. As a family. So my girls can meet Ross Davis and learn that we’re together.
Is this even reality?
+ + +
Thankfully, Hannah isn’t put out by my last-minute request to come home for a night. My blonde-haired girl is even wearing a summery dress, unlike her typical wardrobe of athletic wear.
“I have somewhere special I want to take you.” Can I say I have someone special I want her to meet? Doesn’t that imply he’s my boyfriend or something? Can I have a boyfriend at forty-something? Calling him a man-friend sounds even stranger. And the truth is simply not an option.
I’m sleeping with Ross Davis.
I’d asked Laurel not to say anything to Hannah yet, but I’d been doubtful she could keep this secret to herself.
When Cassandra called me, I laughed, suspicions confirmed about my eldest daughter and her secret-keeping ability.
“Can’t keep a secret from Aunt Sassy, can we?” I’d teased Laurel after the call where Cassandra squealed with delight before admonishing me for not keeping her up to date on the Ross situation.
What was our status? Sleeping partners? Research assistants? Even I was confused. We’ve called ourselves an us, but what does that mean?
When we pull up in front of Ross’s house on the lush, tree-lined side street in a posh neighborhood, the girls gawk at the narrow, three-story brick home.
“Don’t be weird,” I warn them both.