Page 98 of Elevator Pitch

“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?”