The Layover That Changed Everything : Love at 30,000 Feet (The Meet Cute Series Book 1) by Persis C Lassiter

Author:Persis C Lassiter [Lassiter, Persis C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The Birthday Party

Song : Manic Monday - The Bangles

The house looked perfectly ordinary from the outside—two stories, beige siding, an American flag slightly faded from too much Idaho sun. But the moment I stepped inside, I had a feeling we’d just entered a portal to chaos.

“Kids?” I whispered to Jon, eyebrows raised in that please-tell-me-there’s-an-exit-plan way.

Jon, always the steady one, nodded and said, “Blake’s kids. Valentina and Vance. They come here for the summer.”

He said it like this was a normal thing like we were expecting guests for tea and not opening the door to the Real Housewives: Idaho Edition. I hadn’t even taken my shoes off and was already considering slipping them back on and pretending I’d left something important in the car. Like my sanity. Jon, bless his heart, tried to soften the blow with a little background as we walked into the living room.

“Blake had an ex-fiancée—Jeanine. They were together when we were in the Navy. Had two kids. Things got bad… like, really bad. DUIs, assault charges. He had a drinking problem and got violent. She finally left him.” I blinked.

“I… never saw that in him.”

“Yeah,” Jon said with a sigh.

“Anyone can pretend to be someone they’re not. But he’s clean now. Been working on himself.”

I nodded, though internally I was thinking: We’ll see. I’m not exactly one to judge. I was a stripper for ten years. I know all about second, third, and twelfth chances. But still. A woman’s intuition is a real thing, and mine had been buzzing since the second we pulled into the driveway.

“God’s not gonna ask me about Blake when I get to those pearly gates,” I muttered.

We entered the living room, and it was like stepping into a daycare center mid-meltdown. Four kids. Count them—four. Two I immediately recognized as Blake’s spawn because of the strong family resemblance—ginger hair, Irish skin, and expressions like they were already bored of life at sixteen and eight respectively. Valentina, sixteen, sat on the couch with her AirPods in, giving major don’t talk to me unless you’re offering Starbucks energy. Vance, eight, was busy playing his video games at the dining room table, unbothered into what looked like an aggressive death match on the computer. But then there were the other two.

“Oh God,” I whispered. “No. No no no.” Jon followed my gaze and grimaced.

“Patricia’s kids,” he confirmed.

“Janet and Justin.”

Of course. Just what I needed—two miniature Patricias to haunt me before I’d even had a chance to pee. Seriously, what is it with people naming their kids like they’re trying to start a knockoff cartoon duo? Janet and Justin? It sounds like a discount crime-fighting team that solves mysteries with juice boxes and bad attitudes.

Janet, thirteen, stood stiffly near the stairs in a sweatshirt that looked like it had survived a few hand-me-down cycles. Her resting bitch face was already fully formed—impressive for someone barely a teenager. Justin, seven, was on the floor, legs spread out, shoving Oreos into his mouth like he was preparing for hibernation.

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