Page 68 of Stepping Up to the Plate

That’s not cryptic at all… Where could we be that would help me ‘make moves in the right direction’ that is located inside a house in a business district? Could this be a therapist's office? That would line up with what he said, and a converted house would make a homey space to spill your guts. Talking to a therapist about all my past baggage is on my life to do list, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Does Brady really want to open up that can of worms in the middle of our fun day together?

Instead of asking any of the semi-normal questions swirling in my mind, I blurt out, “Do you think I’m emotionally unstable?”

“What?” he rears back in surprise.

“I would get it if you did. I have had a lot going on lately, but if you thought I needed therapy, I’d rather you have talked to me about it. I know you think of yourself as Mr. Fix-It, but choosing a therapist is something I want a say in.

“I thought I was handling the divorce and the childhood trauma it evoked well. If you think I need intervention before I go full-on 2007 Britney, you could have talked to me about it first.”

“2007 Britney? What does that even mean?”

“That’s what we’re doing here, right? Seeing a therapist?” I ask, pointing to the house.

He sits stunned for a few seconds before tipping his head back and barking out a loud laugh. It takes him a few minutes to get a hold of himself.

“You done?” I deadpan, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, baby. That was too funny,” he declares, wiping tears from his eyes. “This is not a therapist's office.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?” I huff, embarrassed by my rant.

He reaches over and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “This,” he states with his head tipped to the building, “is my management team’s office: Green & Kinser. The agency mainly represents athletes and musicians, but they recently began working with influencers, too. I sent my PR rep your blog, and she wanted to meet you to discuss collaborating on some upcoming projects. I thought she might also be able to give you some advice on how to take your account to the next level. You’re great at the content part, but she could help you with promotion and securing more brand deals.”

“You showed her my blog, and she wants to meet me?” I squeak.

“She sure does. She has been hounding me about it for weeks now and I thought today would be a good day to do it.”

I glimpse down at the sundress Tiffany picked out. It’s cute and decently modest, but not anywhere close to business casual. Noticing my assessment of myself, Brady interrupts my negative self-talk.

“You look beautiful, baby. As I said, they work with athletes. They’re used to us rolling up in workout clothes and wet hair. Molly is about my age and from what I recall, is usually in jeans. You don’t need to be dressed all fancy.”

“Okay,” I acquiesce.

“I’m going to walk inside with you to say ‘hello,’ but then I’ll leave the two of you to chat. I’ve got to go by my agent’s office down the hall to sign some paperwork, but then I’ll be back to take you to the next stop. Text me if you’re done before me and I’ll speed it along. Sound good?”

My nod has him rounding the truck and leading me inside.

* * *

As Brady said, Molly is wearing jeans and a Ryder Brothers tour tee. From what I can see in the lobby, they must be repped by the same agency. Molly appears to be in her mid thirties with a friendly smile and the sleekest ponytail I have ever seen.

“Miller, good to see you. It’s about time you brought this precious angel in to meet me,” she gushes. “I am obsessed with your blog. My sister is going through a divorce and I am constantly sending her your posts. You found an underrepresented audience.”

I blush at her praise. “Thank you. I realized when I was going through it how little support or information was out there. No one was talking about what it’s like when your identity shifts that much right as everyone else is finding theirs. I hope I am making other women – and men – feel more seen.”

“Ugh, and humble, too!” she comments. “Alright Mr. Baseball, Tyler and Macy are expecting you in his office. Go see the man before he blows up the group chat. We’ll call you when we are done here.”

“Alright, Molls. Take care of my girl.”

“Of course,” she vows.

Miller gives me a chaste kiss and promises to be here when I am done.

“Let’s move this conversation to my office,” Molly suggests.

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