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Ford: Come to my game?
I bit my lip, rereading the message just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. And once reality set in, it took all I had not to do a happy dance. (If only Vanover wouldn’t have been able to see me and ask far too many astute questions.)
After not hearing from Ford all week, I wondered if our tryst in the back of the limo had simply been a one-time thing while simultaneously and sincerely hoping it was just the beginning.
I wanted something real with him. And maybe this was the sign he wanted something too.
I looked at my calendar, seeing I didn’t have travel or an event this weekend. I did have some work to do, but between hotel Wi-Fi and my hot spot, I should have no problem getting it done. Just as I was about to tell him yes, I’d come, more text bubbles appeared on the screen.
Ford: It would be great exposure for us.
My heart instantly sank, and I felt ridiculous for getting my hopes up at all. But then he sent another text.
Ford: Please?
What was this man doing to me? My heart was on a roller coaster that no sane person would ride.
What did Ford want?
How should I respond?
I had so many conflicting ideas racing through my mind. And if I’d learned one thing from business, it was to bring in advisors you could trust.
In this realm? It was my friend Farrah. And that meant... I had to tell her the truth.
I switched to a new message thread.
Mia: Do you have time to swing by the office today?
I hoped she would reply—with raising kids, her mind was scattered in so many directions, sometimes she would see a message and think she’d responded to it without actually doingso. How she raised her children as a full-time mom while taking on interior design clients from time to time, I had no idea.
But luckily, she messaged me back this time.
Farrah: Mind if Tara tags along?
Mia: Can you make sure she has headphones? Might be some rated R topics.
Farrah: OMG YES.
Farrah: OMW.
I smiled at her enthusiasm and set my phone down to call Vanover on the speaker. “Hey, block off my schedule for the next hour and a half, please?”
“Done,” he replied.
Since I’d have to set some time aside for Farrah, I buckled down and focused on the report.
I was pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in my office, practicing my presentation, when a knock sounded on the glass wall behind me. Turning, I spotted my best friend holding her toddler in one arm and a sparkly unicorn backpack in the other.
My smile was instant. I waved them in and said, “Vanover, can you bring us a couple glasses of white wine and a juice box for Tara?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned, smiling at the little girl who peeked up at him from behind her mom’s shoulder.
After he left, Farrah got her daughter set up on a blanket on the floor, with a tablet playing her favorite cartoon. She’d just gotten the headphones—with an iridescent unicorn horn protruding from the headband—secured on her daughter’s head when Vanover returned with our drinks.
Once he was done passing them out, he went back to his desk, and Farrah and I went to the meeting table, sitting in the chairs. Farrah wore leggings and an oversized T-shirt, and I was a little jealous of her comfy clothing, since I was wearing slacks and a blouse with an underwire bra. Even though it was a Saturday, Thomas or another exec was liable to swing by.
“This must be juicy,” Farrah said, sipping happily on her wine.