Page 131 of Elevator Pitch

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.