Page 130 of Elevator Pitch

“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.