Page 90 of Elevator Pitch

“I just wanted to surprise you.” While doing something nice for my son.

“Did you bring me to the play because Harley asked for me to be there?” Her eyes cast downward when she asks.

My forehead furrows. “Absolutely not. I didn’t even know he’d want you there. I asked you to go with me, not necessarily for him, if that makes sense.”

“For a minute there, I just thought you’d invited me to attend for him. And this wasn’t a date.”

I stare at her. “This is a date,” I state, maybe a bit too adamantly. Maybe not the most romantic one as it involved my kid’s play, and a discussion about my deceased wife, but still a date. “And I don’t want to argue with you about my son.”

Vee sits up straighter. “We aren’t arguing about Harley.”

“I don’t ever want to fight.” Guilt hits me once more at how often Patty and I fought near her end. Her struggles. My helplessness.

“Fights are going to happen, Ross. It’s inevitable. You’ll leave the toilet seat up or your socks on the floor, and I’m going to lose hair in the shower, clogging the drain, and drape my bra over a chair. Things happen.”

Her scenarios lessen the tension and stir something inside me. The situations she describes imply we have a future to fight in.

I nod at her plate. “You finished?”

She’s only eaten half of her mushroom-quinoa burger which she told me was life-altering, but I’m ready for our night to progress and move away from the sorrows of my past.

Vee nods, crumbling a paper napkin and tossing it onto her plate.

“Then let’s get out of this place.” I reach over the table for her hand as I scoot to the edge of the booth. After dropping a few bills on the table, we step into the brisk spring night, and I inhale.

This city and the woman holding my hand are the air I need right now.

This moment is a season I intend to enjoy.

Chapter 29

[Vee]

Once we arrive back at my apartment, I don’t really want Ross to leave but I also don’t trust myself to let him stay. He smells so good, and he looks so good, and he was rather stern about our date. But most of all he seemed so vulnerable talking about Harley and Patty. We didn’t need to share all our sad stories, yet we seemed to understand one another on some deeper level.

Life is hard. Death is harder. Regret and guilt go hand in hand. Living with grief is the worst.

But we still have a life, and we owe it to those gone to live it as best we can.

Which circles me back to inviting Ross inside my place because I’m not ready to let him go.

And because I’m awkward, I jump ahead. “I won’t have sex with you.”

“Okay.” Ross falters as he’s lowering himself to my couch, pausing mid-bend with his ass back and hands reaching for the cushion.

“The Anchors are winning with or without that happening between us.”

He finishes taking a seat, drapes an outstretched arm along the back of the couch and chuckles. “Okay.” His eyes never leave me, where I stand in my living room which suddenly feels too small with him present.

I love my apartment. It’s just the right size for one. A little cramped when Hannah is home, but I had to sell the house once Cameron was gone. The memories there were too much. Not to mention, a civil servant’s compensation wasn’t enough to pay that mortgage.

“And we don’t even need to sleep in the same bed for them to win either.” Wringing my hands together and swaying side to side a bit, displays my anxiety. If I get anywhere near a bed with Ross, I don’t know that I can lie there pretending I don’t want more with him. Because I want so much more than just a superstition proposition.

Us, he said in his truck. I want to stick around and see where we go, too. However, we should go slow.

“Okay,” Ross states again, dragging out the word. “But how do you feel about sitting on my lap? Letting me kiss you? Consider it book research. Which by the way, you haven’t mentioned. How is the writing going?”

Sit on his lap? My resolve is faltering, but I concentrate on the other part of what he said.