Page 97 of Hello Quarterback

When I stalled, our eyes met, and I swore I saw moisture in his before he blinked it back and held the door open for me.

I slipped into the back of the limo, settling across from the door. Once he got in and closed the door behind him, we were alone in the car, only soft music breaking the silence.

“It’s good to see you,” he said eventually.

I looked away from the dark city passing by outside the tinted window. “Is it?” Because I was hurting, unsure how I’d make it through the night.

“It is, Mia. I...” He paused, scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “I hate this.”

That caught my attention. I took him in, wondering what was coming next. Torn between hoping he’d call off the charade so I could finally lick my wounds and fearing the same end, meaning I’d never get to see or spend time with him again.

Realizing I was waiting for him to explain, he crossed the limo and sat beside me, taking my hands in his. I had to close my eyes against the pain searing through my chest. I missed him, his touch, so much I dreamed about it.

Everything in my life was going right. But I’d never been more miserable.

“I miss you,” he said. Another stab of pain. Because I missed him too.

I missed our goodnight texts. I missed the way he held me. How he made me feel like my success wasn’t intimidating but something to be admired.

“Do you miss me?” he finally asked.

My throat felt tight as I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak without falling apart.

His features seemed to lift with hope. “I know I messed up, Mia, but I do love you. Can I have another chance? I’ll do anything.”

I glanced down at my hands resting in my lap. There were three rings on my left hand. One on my right. Thousands of dollars on just my fingers. But I would trade all of it to go back to that day and beg Ford to behave differently. I took a slow, steadying breath. “Ford, I love you. With all my heart.” My voice broke, and tears threatened to fall. “But it isn’t as simple as a grand gesture and another chance. You showed me that when your back is against the wall, you’ll push me out of your life and avoid me.”

His gaze lowered. He clearly felt ashamed, and part of me wanted to rescue him from that feeling. But the wiser part of me knew better.

“The only way we could ever have another chance is if you showed me, somehow, that you had truly changed. That you’d grown to a point where you wouldn’t hurt me and push me away when things get hard. Because I wasn’t just with you to be with a famous quarterback—I loveyou. All of your fame could be gone tomorrow, and I’d still be here.”

His lips quivered as he looked up at me, eyes red from unshed tears. “I’m?—”

The limo slowed and stopped. Within seconds there was a knock on the door before Zeke opened it up. We both cleared our expressions, put on brave faces, as we stepped out of the limo. Appearing as the perfect couple I thought we were.

Cameras flashed around the red carpet into the hotel ballroom, and Ford kept ahold of my hand until we got to the photo staging area. A press backdrop was behind us, alternating the Griffen Industries and Andersen Avenue logos.

We posed together for photos. And for a moment, he pressed his lips to my temple and whispered, “I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”

55

FORD

It tookme a long time to realize I had no idea how to prove to Mia that I was changing. Anyone could go to therapy once a week, but actually doing the work, making lasting changes, that was harder to prove.

I’d asked my dad and my brothers who actually had successful relationships for advice, but I needed to ask someone who knew Mia better than anyone else. So I called Gage Griffen and asked if I could come over and speak to him and his wife.

Farrah was Mia’s best friend. And Gage worked more hours with Mia than anyone on the planet—aside from Vanover. He was my backup plan, followed by Tallie.

And even though Gage was my friend, I was still nervous as I parked my truck in front of his unassuming suburban house. The only thing that stood out about it was the bright yellow front door.

I knocked on it a few times and instantly heard the clatter of life behind the door. Children yelling, two of them arguing over who would answer. A pan falling to the floor. It made me smile, reminding me so much of my own home growing up.

The door swung open, revealing their daughter Cora wearing matching pajamas. She must have been eight or nine. “Hi, Ford!”

“Hi, Princess,” I said with a smile.

She blushed. “No one calls me that anymore.”

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