Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

22. Ford

22

FORD

The next morning when I checked my phone, I saw a text message from Mia. It was a logo with the word RISE.

Mia: For my charity.

I grinned at the graphic. It was like her—bold, bright, impactful.

Ford: I love it.

Mia: Thanks for the extra push.

Ford: Any time.

I clicked my phone off and left my room, going out to the kitchen for breakfast. My chef was already working on it and said, “Just a few minutes, Ford.”

“Thanks,” I replied, heading to the coffeemaker and grabbing a cup. I always allowed myself one in the morning. Something about the smell of freshly brewed coffee was irreplaceable. I think because it reminded me of quiet mornings on the farm, slowly waking up to hear my parents talking softly over a cup of coffee.

As I sat at the table drinking coffee by myself, I looked at my phone, realizing I wanted to text her more.

Continuing the conversation would be purely indulgent for me. So I set my phone aside and tried—failed—to get her out of my mind.

Over the next week, I felt a sense of restlessness like never before. I was doing everything required of me, going to work, training, going to (and winning) my out-of-town game, but it still felt like something was missing.

I didn’t want to admit to myself that it was Mia. Mia was missing.

Although I couldn’t deny it when Tallie messaged me and relief immediately washed over me.

Tallie: Mia had a lunch fall through today. It would be a great chance for you to bring lunch into the office and talk her up. Are you free?

I had to make myself wait thirty seconds before texting her back and saying I was. Wouldn’t want it getting back to Mia how desperate I was to see her.

Tallie: Great. I'm going to need you to pick something up, and you're going to accidentally go to the wrong floor. You'll go to floor thirty-five instead of thirty-six and walk until you find the glass office in the corner. That's where Thomas works. Talk with his secretary, see if there's anyone else there you can chat with. They might ask you to sign autographs. If they do—sign them. Be your likable self and slip in positive comments about Mia. Think you can handle that?

Ford: Easily.

Instead of going to a restaurant, I had my chef prepare something so that I could bring a home-cooked meal to Mia. I was sure she dined out all the time with her work schedule, and if she was anything like me, I missed eating at home when I'd been out for a while.

I shouldn't have been as nervous as I was getting dressed and ready to go to meet her in her office. I shouldn't have been nervous as I went to the florist and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers and lavender.

But I was. Even as I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the thirty-fifth floor.

As soon as the elevator doors opened though, I knew my play. I knew my purpose, and I was willing to fulfill the role. Especially after she had done so well for me at the Ford's Friends gala.

The thirty-fifth floor in the Griffin Industries tower looked similar to the thirty-sixth floor. But instead of being taken up by Mia’s office and a conference room, there was a lot more going on here.

A receptionist sat in front of a desk right where the elevators opened. As soon as she saw me, she said, “May I help you?”

“I’m bringing a friend lunch,” I said like Tallie instructed. “Thomas Weatherford.”

“Need me to show you where to go?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I've got it.”

I started walking back in the similar direction as Mia’s office, like Tallie had told me to, and I realized that this floor had way more people on it. There were offices along the walls, and even a bank of people working at half cubicles.

At first, no one noticed me, but then the murmurs started.

A guy wearing a suit came up to me and said, “Ford Madigan?”

I nodded.

The guy said, “Are you here to see Miss Baird?”

I offered him an easy smile and said, “Yeah, I am. Her office is that way, right?”

The murmurs were going around us, and I could see people looking up from their desks, talking, whispering to each other. Tallie was a genius.

The guy talking to me said, “I can take you up there... for an autograph,” he joked.

I laughed, setting my bag of food and the flowers down on a table. “I'm happy to sign an autograph for you.” I raised my voice a little bit. “And anyone else who might want something signed.”

The guy seemed gobsmacked and eager at the same time. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course. Mia tells me all the time how amazing you guys are and how hard you work. It's the least I can do for you giving her such great support.”

I could see his chest puff up with pride. People always loved when others said good things about them behind their back.

He said, “I actually have a Diamonds football on my desk. I'll go get it.”

Someone else was already walking up to me with a legal pad and a Sharpie. “My son loves you,” she said, grinning. “He’s not going to believe this.”

For the next half hour or so, I took selfies and signed legal pads, a football, a poster, and even a blazer.

That is until a stern voice said, “What's going on here? My receptionist said you wanted to see me?”

I turned to see a guy that I knew of but had never officially met. Thomas . I offered him a grin, saying, “Sorry, I must have misspoken. I was actually heading to Mia’s office and hit the wrong floor.”

He layered a smile on his lips that didn't quite meet his eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Madigan, but we're on a tight deadline here. I'm sure you understand.”

A few people in line to get my autograph frowned and sagged. “Of course,” I said to Thomas. “I shouldn't have assumed... Mia is always happy to let me interact with her direct staff no matter how busy.”

Another dig at Thomas.

He was about to answer when I saw a familiar face walking into the room in leather loafers.

“Ford, there you are,” Vanover said. “Mia has been waiting on you.”

I gave him an apologetic look and said, “Sorry, I got caught up.” I looked to the people who were still waiting to get something signed. “Next time I’m in the office, I'll ask Mia if she can send out an email so we can all chat,” I promised.

They seemed to perk up at that, and I swore I saw Thomas’s jaw muscles flex angrily.

“Come now,” Vanover said, waving his hand at me. His expression was calm and collected, but I suppressed my smile until we got into the elevator to go to the next floor.

Vanover leaned over and whispered, “How did it go?”

“Perfectly,” I said. I couldn't wait to tell Mia.