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Except for the gift tucked under my arm.
I walked to my bedroom, seeing the perfectly made bed done by my housekeeping service. I tossed the black box on the white covers, then slipped out of my dress. Taking off the strapless bra was such a relief.
The tall windows reflected my naked body. My breasts, which hung so much lower now than twenty years ago when I graduated high school. My apron stomach folded over my hips. It seemed like all of me was sagging, except for my head, still held high.
In the reflection, I watched myself open the box and slip the jersey over my head, the material sliding over my body until the hem rested right below my ass.
I was surprised how sexy I felt, and I had to go to my walk-in closet with its floor-length mirror to get a better look.
Surrounded by all my clothes and shoes, I stared at myself in the mirror, in disbelief of howcuteI looked.
My entire wardrobe was designed to be professional, stylish, powerful. I had the most expensive designer gowns and suits,but I’d never felt as gorgeous as I did with Ford Madigan’s name on my back.
It was a shame I couldn’t wear this jersey tomorrow. Or better yet, every single day.
In consolation, I kept it on as I went to the bathroom and washed away the day’s makeup and released my hair from its twist. My blond locks fell around my shoulders, and for a moment, I allowed myself to wonder what it would feel like to have Ford here with me. To watch him react to me, naked underneath his jersey.
But then reality sank in. An ex-boyfriend’s comments about my schedule here, a complaint about my priorities there. Sometimes I wondered if a relationship could hold two successful people or if one person’s ambition was destined to suck up all the air.
Wasn’t that the case with my former boss, Gage? He’d fallen in love and stepped down as CEO so he could spend more time with Farrah and her children from a former marriage.
I respected his decision to have a family, but it wasn’t mine. I loved my job. I wanted to fall in love too—with someone who understood. Was that too much to ask?
With my mind running wild with fantasies and questions, I slipped under my covers, hit the button to put out all the lights, and slowly fell asleep to the quiet hum of the air conditioner.
I decidedto stay in my condo the next day, buckling down without any distractions. I hardly turned my head away from the computer screen until I heard the sound of my front bell. A delivery.
Confused and half-dazed from working so intently, I walked to the front door, rubbing my eyes. I only realized I was still inthe jersey when my doorman, a sweet older man in a green and gold suit, gave me a sheepish smile. “For you, Ms. Baird.”
I straightened my shoulders, mustering all my dignity. “Thank you.”
I took the black box from him, wrapped in a black silk ribbon, thinking it looked an awful lot like the gift Ford had given me. But when I walked to my living room and set the box on the coffee table for examination, I realized there was no telling who it was from without opening the package.
A tug of the ribbon was all it took for the material to fall away, and I lifted the lid. Seeing the contents made my lips spread into a smile.
It was a purple blazer, made to look like Ford’s jersey, all the way down to his name and number on the back.
I bit my lip, holding it up, and a piece of white card stock tumbled to the ground. When I picked it up, I instantly recognized the handwriting from the flower delivery.
Like I would let my girlfriend show up to the game without my number on her back.
18
FORD
Game days wereall about trusting myself and the work I’d put in all week. So instead of watching more game film or squeezing in additional personal development, I made it a point to clear my mind of all the noise.
For home games like today, my personal mindfulness guide, Bernét, came to the house to lead me through a meditation exercise and then breath work. For games where I wasn’t at home, we always video called and did our work digitally.
But being in person was better, with a blend of essential oils diffusing throughout my home gym. But when we finished and a driver came to take me to the stadium, my mind kept straying to Mia and the package I was having delivered.
My tailor had agreed to the last-minute project, and I couldn’t wait to see what she thought. If she’d wear it. Checking my phone revealed no new messages from her, so I had to wait.
After several hours of prep in the locker room, the team took the field to warm up. And when I looked at the suite I knew Mia used, I saw her watching from the window... in her new purple blazer.
Damn, did she look good.
Her hand lifted in a wave. And even though I couldn’t wave back, not with my coach watching, I sent her a smile.