Chapter 30 #2
“I don’t think this situation could get any weirder,” Laurel mutters. She’s disgruntled that I didn’t expand further about my relationship with Ross, other than mentioning that we’d met in Houston last year, reunited while I was in Arizona, and then bumped into one another again in Chicago.
“Is bumping some new term?” Laurel teased.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, kid.”
“You’re the one who taught me to have a dirty mind.”
“I did no such thing.”
But my girls read romance novels, following my love for them. Plus, I write them. Romance novels are full of life lessons, dirty minds appreciated.
“Where are we?” Hannah asks, interjecting into my memory of the conversation with Laurel.
“You won’t believe this,” Laurel mumbles, cryptic with her sister as we approach Ross’s front door.
I ring the bell although I know the code. When the door opens on a rush, Harley eagerly greets me.
“Verona.” He eyes the girls. “And her sisters.”
I blush but the girls stare at him. Hannah’s forehead furrows, concentrating, like she recognizes the nineteen-year-old in front of us but can’t place him.
“Ladies, this is Harley. Harley, my daughters, Laurel and Hannah.”
“Physical therapy.” He points at Hannah. “Teacher.” He looks at Laurel.
Laurel’s head swivels. “He knows about us.”
“You’re being weird,” I whisper. She’s acting like Harley is some kind of teenage rock star heart throb, instead of an average college kid.
Harley steps back, allowing us to enter the house. “Dad’s in the kitchen. I’ve never seen him so nervous. Then again, we should be nervous. He never cooks.”
The three of us follow Harley into the large kitchen where Ross is rushing between a pan on the stove and items on the countertop.
“Can I help?”
Ross spins at my voice. His hands are cupped, chopped mushrooms spilling over the edge of them. “Hey.” His smile is filled with both relief and concern.
“What’s wrong?” I rush to his side.
The flame beneath a second pan sparks bright orange. Something sizzles. Ross turns toward it. “Shit.”
He dumps the mushrooms into the first pan and reaches for a wooden spoon, stirring the mixture.
“Like I said, we might be in trouble,” Harley mumbles somewhere behind us.
Placing my hand on Ross’s back, I peer into the first pan. Whatever is inside is boiling at a high heat and giving off a slightly noxious fume.
“Whatcha making?” I don’t want to be anxious, or critical, but it doesn’t look . . . appetizing.
“It’s supposed to be mushroom risotto.”
I glance from the pan to Ross. “Do you know how to make mushroom risotto?” Because I’m pretty certain it’s not by boiling mushrooms, or with the goopy mess of rice inside the second pan.
“Not really.” Ross lowers his eyes and rolls his lips. His broad shoulders fall. He’s so disappointed in himself, it is endearing. He wanted to make us dinner. Me and my girls.
I reach for the stove and turn off the flames. “Maybe we should just order pizza.” With my hand still stroking up his back, I try to sooth the blow to his ego while reassuring him pizza is a good idea.
“Are you . . . Ross Davis?” Hannah asks, echoing her sister’s tone from yesterday morning, and reminding us of our audience.
I drop my hand, and Ross and I turn as one, watching Hannah’s eyes widen. “You are Ross Davis.”
“Brilliant. My family has strongly confirmed who you are,” I mutter to him.
“And your mom is V. C. Hux,” Harley states, sounding equally impressed by me when I haven’t been the one to explain to him who I am.
I turn toward Ross. “You told him?”
“He asked questions.”
“Kids have a nasty habit of doing that.” I laugh.
Ross and I smile at one another until Hannah interjects again. “Are you two dating?” Her question is stated as if she can’t believe it. Her mom. A famous baseball coach. Like how incredulous would that be?
“Who’s dating?” The strong masculine voice comes from a dark-haired kid who is the image of his father in body stature. Height. Width. His face is round, but his eyes are molten chocolate.
“I think your dad is dating our mom,” Laurel clarifies for the young man I assume is Landon.
“We aren’t dating,” I immediately state.
“We aren’t?” Ross turns to me, eyes wide and hurt.
“Well . . .” How the hell do we explain ourselves to our kids? I’m sleeping with your dad? Only, it’s not just sleeping anymore because he had his tongue, mouth, and fingers all over me last night, and yeah, that just does not need to be shared with the class.
Ross turns back toward his boys and runs his hand up my spine, squeezing the back of my neck. “Landon, this is Verona Huxley. Vee. And we are seeing each other.”
“What does seeing each other mean?” Hannah asks.
“I think it’s like talking to.” Laurel crooks her fingers in air quotes.
“You know, when someone isn’t your boyfriend yet but you’re exclusively talking to one another.
” Laurel turns toward us. “You are exclusive, right?” Her eyes narrow.
Her question is direct and fired at Ross because my girls know their father cheated on me.
Thanks to the rather loud arguments Cameron and I once had, my girls heard things. Things I tried to delicately explain while not making excuses for their father. I refused to dismiss his adultery while attempting to forgive him.
What kind of example had I been for my girls, though?
I wanted to portray fortitude in a marriage, but honestly, nothing would erase what he’d done.
There hadn’t been time for closure or forgiveness before he was taken from us.
And, I should have shown my girls not to take shitty treatment, wedding band on your finger or not.
“We’re exclusive,” Ross states, squeezing my neck a little more firmly. Reminding me of what he said the other morning.
“And how long has this been going on?” Landon asks, his tone nearly as sharp as Laurel’s.
“November,” Ross says, when I say, “March.” We look at one another.
He hasn’t been with anyone since November? He explained the Chandler situation, but I still thought there had been others between our meeting in Houston and seeing each other in Arizona.
I glance back at four sets of eyes watching Ross and me. I’ve never been in this position before. My girls meeting a man. Or me meeting a man’s children. The moment feels a bit surreal, especially if I add in that Ross Davis is who he is.
Hannah is still starstruck while Laurel is suddenly eyeing Ross with deeper concern.
Harley is smiling like he’s been in on the secret for a while, while Landon crosses his thick arms over his chest and glares at his dad.
“How about pizza?” I choke out, wanting to derail the inquisition of Ross and me. And maybe wipe the scowl off Landon’s face. Food can be a good distraction.
“Thank God,” Harley dramatically states while Laurel pulls out her phone.
“What do you like?” she asks the room in general, taking over to scan for local pizza places. And suddenly four adult children are glancing at their phones, scrolling pizza options, and firing off ingredients they prefer, giving Ross and me a break.
“That went well,” I mumble, turning in his direction.
“We aren’t dating?” He scans my face, his eyes weary, concerned even.
“Ross,” I warn softly. “Maybe we should discuss this later.” We’ve narrowly gone unscathed just being in the same room as each other. I slip a quick glance at Ross’s oldest son. “Landon doesn’t look too happy.”
Thankfully, the kids fall easily into conversation with each other, occasionally including the older adults in the room.
Laurel goes into teacher mode, making certain everyone participates, keeping everyone engaged, while Harley has his theatre schooling on display.
Hannah and Landon are a bit quieter but they each laugh at the antics of their siblings, and slowly any tension in the air dissipates until the girls and I prepare to leave.
“Don’t you want to spend the night?” Harley teases. “You still owe me pancakes.”
“I took you to The Syrup Tap,” I remind him.
“What?” Hannah’s head whips in my direction so quickly her neck must crack. Her offense is obvious in her tone. How dare I take someone to her favorite place without her.
“Tomorrow we can go there,” I say to her.
“Why would you be spending the night?” Landon asks, his gaze going from me to his dad.
The conversation comes full circle.
“Because that’s what Dad and Verona do,” Harley continues. A smile graces his face, like what he’s suggesting is no big deal. Adult sleepovers anyone?
“What do you mean, that’s what Dad and Verona do?”
“Dad said Verona is his good luck charm. When she sleeps here, the Anchors win.”
Uh-oh.
“What the fuck?” Landon blurts, turning toward his father. His folded arms slip to his sides, fists clenched.
“Hey.” Ross glares back at his eldest son, agitated as well. “Watch it.”
“Baseball players are so silly.” Harley waves at my girls, as if the playful movement can unravel the blooming tension.
“On that note, I think it really is time to go. Thank you for the pizza. It was great to meet you, Landon.” Although I’m not certain the sentiment is reciprocated.
“I’ll walk you out,” Ross states, stepping forward like he’ll follow us.
I hold up my hand, then awkwardly twist it like I intend to shake his, making the moment even more ridiculous. “We’ve got it.”
Ross stares at my outstretched hand, and for a second, I imagine him wanting to bat my hand away, cup my face, and kiss me senseless in front of all four of our children so I’ll stop acting so strange.
Then again, kissing me in front of our kids would be even stranger, and the image quickly vanishes.
“I’ll call you later.” Ross ignores my hand, which I eventually lower.
Harley saves the moment by reaching for Laurel and then Hannah, hugging each of them before coming toward me.
“I messed up, didn’t I?” he whispers, but I shake my head when I pull out of his embrace.
Ross and I messed up as we don’t know how to define what we’re doing with each other.