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Gage came up behind her, holding a toddler in his arms. “She’s growing up too fast. Come in.”
“Good to see you,” I said as I followed him into the house—I must have been there a handful of times, but it looked different each time with fresh art and pictures crowding the walls.
“The kids are watching a movie,” he said. “Come out to the patio with us.”
I followed him, seeing Cora go sit by her brother, Andrew, on the couch. Then they called Tara over, and she toddled to sit between them, hogging the popcorn bowl. They had an incredible family.
When we got to the back porch, Farrah was already out there, curled under a blanket on the patio couch in front of the gas fire pit. Gage asked me if I wanted a beer or if she needed a refill, but I shook my head, going to sit in a chair across from Farrah.
He sat next to his wife, pulling her legs over his lap in a familiar way that had me missing Mia like crazy.
Farrah said, “If you weren’t a football player, I’d tackle you.”
Okay, she was pissed at me too.
Gage tilted his head at her. “You said you’d play nice.”
She shrugged, drawing the blanket to her chin. It would have been chilly out here if not for the warmth coming from the fire. I leaned a little closer to get more of its heat. “Look, I know I fucked up. And I want to make it right, but Mia needs to see that I’ve changed. I just don’t know how to show her if she’s not going to give me another chance.”
Gage pressed his lips together, nodding thoughtfully. Farrah tilted her head as she studied me like she was trying to tell if I was full of shit. I couldn’t blame her.
Finally, Gage asked, “Well, what are you doing to make it better?”
I listed off the things I was doing in therapy to change my attachment style. My therapist said it was common for someone who lost a parent young to avoid people when they were upset, but she was hopeful I would get better with time and practice. IknewI could.
Gage said, “The thing about CEOs is that they operate on data. Mia will need to see something concrete—reports of some kind—to show that you’re making the improvements.”
Farrah nodded. “But reports are so not sexy. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want your therapist writing her letters keeping track of you.”
But then a lightbulb went off in my mind. “What if I wrote her letters?”
Farrah gave me a small smile. “He’s not as dumb as I thought he was.”
Gage gave her an admonishing look. “Farrah!”
“What!” she protested. “He broke my best friend’s heart...” Then she looked over at me. “But I’m glad you’re working to fix it. I know she loves you, Ford.”
The confirmation from Farrah was like a hug from a friend when you’re on the verge of tears already. I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I’m not sure if that’s enough,” I said.
Farrah lifted her lips to the side. “Love isn’t enough... Gage and I have been together for years now, and if we just counted on thefeelingof love to carry us through, we’d never make it. A relationship, a marriage, requires thoughtfulness, forgiveness, patience, self-control, growth, and more. But if your love leads you to action, I know you’ll make it through.”
With Farrah’swords echoing in my mind, I went home and wrote the first letter to Mia. I wasn’t sure how long it would take, but I wouldn’t give up. Because Farrah was right; love wasn’t an emotion.
It was my dad coming to stay with me just because he thought I didn’t want to be alone.
It was Krew and Milo coming to the field at midnight to drive me home.
It was Vanover making sure Mia ate on her busy days at the office.
And now, it would be me, writing to Mia to show her I wasn’t running. Not anymore.
NOVEMBER
Dear Mia,
Two weeks ago was the best day of my life.
I woke up in the morning next to an incredible woman. The way the sunlight came in through the window made her hair look golden. And then she opened her pretty blue eyes and placed them on me.