Chapter 39

[Vee]

"Hello?"

"Cassandra," I groan as I cross my living room when she took the liberty to answer my phone. I didn't block Ross's phone number because that felt childish, but I also haven't answered his calls. I got the message. Again .

When he told me to go home. When he wanted to keep me a secret.

Lay low? What did that even mean? This wasn't some mafia romance where henchmen were out to get me. Ross and I had an arrangement, and clearly someone found out about it. As only Cassandra knows from my side, I assume the information leaked on Ross's end. Maybe it was locker room talk. Men sharing their superstitions and how they acted on them. Maybe it had all been a joke to him, although I doubt that. He couldn't have faked the orgasms he had with me. He just doesn't want anyone to know we're beyond the sleeping pact. Way beyond.

So much for being his girlfriend .

I'd held myself together, though only barely, as I headed to the airport the following morning, feeling despondent and rejected. Once I hit my apartment, the crying began. I'm heartbroken and pissed. I knew it would hurt when we ended, I just didn't think it would end like this. How Ross took it upon himself to protect me , by pushing me away. Like he's embarrassed by our situation.

Shouldn't all that matter be the happily ever after no matter how the tale began?

Then again, I'm the writer, not him.

"Cee-Cee." I hold out my hand, wiggling my fingers. We've been arguing once again about how I should hear Ross's side of the story. I don't have to make a decision, just hear him out.

But I'm tired of excuses from men. And I'm sad that once again I haven't been a partner's first choice .

When my phone rang on the coffee table, and Cassandra was closest to the device, she took the liberty to snatch it up and answer.

"Actually, this is Cassandra. Hang on a minute. She's right here." My best friend holds out the device, waving it at me with a strong jab of her arm while mouthing: Talk to him .

I shake my head, glaring at her before taking the phone from her. Fine , I mouth back.

"Hello."

"Vee?" Relief washes through his voice. The sound is both strained while exhilarated.

"Ross." We've established who we each are. I don't know what else there is to say. Silence falls between us a second before he clears his throat.

"God, I wish I could just get on a plane and talk this out face-to-face." He exhales. "Kiss you. Hold you. But I can't."

I sigh. "I know you can't. I would never ask you to or expect you to. You have obligations and responsibilities. I'm not mad that you couldn't drop everything and run home to me, Ross." I pause, willing myself not to cry again. "Baseball is important to you, like writing is important to me. I'm mad because you pushed me out, practically put me on a flight, like I didn't matter. Like I don't have a voice in any of this."

"I don't know how things got so out of hand."

Between us? I bite my lip, not willing to ask, not wanting to argue.

"I should have led with what happened in the locker room. You saw that picture. Valdez was spewing bullshit about you. And he somehow knew about the superstition pact."

My mouth falls open.

"I was coming to your defense. Suspending him, actually, when that photo was taken."

I don't need to ask which photo. It's made quite the rounds on social media. His assistant coaches standing in front of him. Someone with a hand on Valdez. Two guys restraining Bolan Adler.

Ross sighs. "Things got out of control. I lost my temper, which I never do, but I won't let someone talk about you, Vee. Belittle what we have." He pauses. "Because there is something between us, sweetheart. Superstition went out of the ballpark long ago. It's you. You're good for me ."

I roll my lips, holding back any comments, and taking a deep breath to keep myself in check.

"And I want to be good for you. Thought I was pushing you away when all I was trying to do was protect you. I hurt you, but I was only worried that if you'd have come to the next game, someone would see you, and hound you, not me. I don't want that kind of limelight for you."

"Because I'm not a supermodel." I clamp my lips shut, mad at myself for interjecting.

"Because you're so much more. Vee, you don't need supermodel as a status. You're beautiful, inside and out, and you're right for me. And I miss you."

My heart hammers. I want to believe him, but even if I miss him, too, I've learned my lesson about men who grovel.

"What did Valdez say about me?"

"Sweetheart." Ross sighs. "It doesn't matter but he knew about our arrangement. Not who we are now, but how we started."

"How did he know?"

"He said he overheard two women talking. Called you a superstition whisperer. He took the conversation and ran with it."

Oh my God . I glance at Cassandra who is watching me as my eyes bug out.

"Ross." I choke. "I'm so sorry. I think it was me. Cassandra and I were talking about our situation at brunch one morning, and Valdez was at a table a few feet away from us." And Cassandra can be loud, although I love her for it sometimes.

Silence fills the phone again before Ross says, "It doesn't matter. Our secret is out." He bitterly chuckles.

"I'm sorry to embarrass you."

"I'm not embarrassed." His tone turns defensive .

"Then I don't understand why you're apologizing. The secret is out. The superstition has been over for a while. Wins. Losses. Our sleeping arrangement hasn't made a difference."

"It's made a difference to me," Ross says, his voice softening.

I don't know what to say. He's made an impact on me as well. All the sorrow I've had for the last week unleashed a torrent of words, and my writing is nearing the end.

"I downloaded one of your books," he finally says.

My gaze leaps to Cassandra again, who is still watching me, but making a heart symbol with her hands.

"Why?" I ask, fighting the thrill that rushes through me that he purchased one of my books.

"I want to know more about you, Vee. I want to experience your talent and read all the words that come from that creative brain and those beautiful fingertips."

I glance down at my hands, recalling all the times Ross massaged my fingers.

"Actually, I've bought all your books. They'll be waiting for me at the house when I get home." He chuckles softly. "Might take me a few years to read them all, but I'm willing to put in the time. I want the time, Vee. To know everything there is about you. All the fiction, and all the facts. I only want you as Verona Huxley. No one or nothing else."

"Ross." I whisper, touched by his purchase and sudden dedication to read all my work.

But words are just words.

"Good luck in Phoenix," I say, my voice thick. My heart breaks that he's where the magic happened. If only I could turn back the clock. But would I?

Happenstance . The chance to see him again after that elevator stuck.

Happy chance. The unlikely event that we'd meet again, and a whirlwind of events would get us to where we are now.

Suddenly, I'm choking up after promising myself I would not cry anymore. "I need to go," I whisper, the soft tone strained .

"Can I see you when I get back to Chicago?"

"I'll think about it." But he knows what that means. It's mom-speak for probably not.

+ + +

I can't avoid the Anchor games. I mean, I could sell all my tickets and make a nice profit, but the thing is, I enjoy the games, and reliving the memories made with my dad and my girls.

So, on a Thursday evening, a day after the Anchors return to Chicago, Cassandra and I go to the game where I purchase two extra tickets for Laurel and Hannah to attend.

Girls' Night Out at the ballfield. I can't think of anything better.

To my surprise, Landon and Harley are sitting with their aunt, Rena, in the same section.

"Hey, guys," I question when I notice them noticing me.

Landon gives me a long look. "What a strange coincidence, right?"

"Us here at the game in the same section as you," Harley adds.

I tilt my head. Strange indeed, but even stranger is how they are both acting . . . weird.

Rena taps the back of Landon's head, eyeing him in a silent conversation before turning toward me. "It's so great to see you again." Her hug is a comfort. We had a good time meeting each other in Philadelphia. Under different circumstances, we might have become good friends.

"Well, enjoy the game." I smile, attempting to avoid looking toward the dugout as I return to my seats.

Puzzled by their presence, I'm thrilled for Ross that he has family here to support him. With the boys here, I'm hopeful this means the father-son relationship is on the mend for all of them. Healing hurts. Promising a better future.

From our seats, I continue to try to ignore the dugout, sipping my margarita and staring at the field, while hardly concentrating on the game. With the antics of Aunt Sassy around my girls, the night passes with laughter despite the anxiety humming through my body. My family is a good distraction for me.

In the middle of the fifth inning, the jumbotron board lights up with birthdays, congratulations, and marriage proposals, and it's a highlight of the game as we try to find the proposals in the crowd.

But tonight, as the board nears its broadcasting end, one name flashes across the screen.

VEE.

My gaze leaps to the dugout where Ross suddenly appears, climbing up on top of the roof, holding a poster in his hand. Bubble letters printed in Anchor red and blue on the sign reads:

Hey, hey, Laurel and Hannah.

I'd like to date your mom.

"Oh my God," Cassandra gasps, clutching at my wrist.

"Mom?" Laurel whispers, her head snapping toward me.

Hannah stares at Ross, eyes wide.

Around us the crowd noise slowly lowers to hushed whispers and turning heads, people searching for the mom on the sign.

My gaze falls to Landon and Harley a second, both of whom have turned in their seats and face me.

Voices closest to us catch on.

"Didn't someone hold up a sign years ago asking if Ross would date their mom?

"Whatever happened to that woman?"

"Oh my God. Does he mean her?"

Someone claps, setting off an echoing wave, before more hands are coming together and people are chanting. A combination of Ross-Ross-Ross and Mom-Mom-Mom .

I glance around me, until I see myself highlighted on the video screen. Then more heads are turning, and cameras are flashing.

Someone cries out, "There she is. "

Tears blur my vision. Ross still stands on the dugout rooftop aiming the sign toward my section. Glancing left then right, I see security at the end of the row, waiting for me.

"Vee-Vee," Cassandra whispers, implying what I need to do.

"I know," I choke.

"It's like that movie Never Been Kissed ," Laurel squeals.

Only I've been kissed, a number of times and in a number of places, by the man holding up a sign waiting on me.

Flustered, I'm already moving down the row. "Excuse me. Pardon me." I don't have far to go before security surrounds me and I'm hopping down the stairs toward the dugout entrance from the stadium seats.

As I near the dugout, I see Kip Garcia standing on the dugout stairs, arms crossed, shaking his head with a big grin on his face.

Comments fire toward me from the players watching their coach.

"Damn, who knew coach was such a romantic?"

"Do you think she'll date him?"

"There she is."

I reach the entrance to the dugout from the stands, where I'm assisted under the netting and over the fence. Then I'm helped up to the dugout roof by a number of players' hands, but it's Ross I'm concentrating on, who has dropped the poster and holds out his hand for me.

"Hi," I whisper after he tugs me close.

"Hey, happenstance," he says, bringing me closer to him. "So, what do you say?"

"Will I date you?" I glance at the posterboard face up near our feet. With tears in my eyes, I laugh. "I'll do one better, Ross Davis. I'll sleep with you as well."

Ross chuckles, the grin spreading his round face. Then, he's cupping my cheeks and bringing me in for a kiss before forty thousand fans.

Suddenly, "hit it' blasts over the loudspeakers and I pull back, laughing at Ross's former walkup song. Happy tears stream down my face .

"Think I should share my rap dance moves with everyone?" I ask him, unable to contain my glee.

He chuckles as well, noticing the past video of me waving my arms and swinging my hips which is suddenly projected on the screen.

Nothing is sacred on the internet .

"Let's keep all your moves just for me, sweetheart," Ross says.

"Whatever you say, Coach."

"I say kiss me, Vee, because I love you."

"I love you, too."

And I do kiss him, to the cheer of baseball fans and the background sound of Rob Base and DJ EZ.