“Great news. I floated the idea of Coach Hardy coming aboard with you, and—”
“I haven’t even talked to him yet, Cam.” I’m in the bungalow now, but I’m too amped to sit, so I pace around the small living area. “You’re putting the cart before the horse.”
“Rome, I merely floated the idea, like I was brainstorming. Trust me, I handled it perfectly.”
“And?”
“They went batshit crazy over the idea. To be clear, they want you any way they can get you, with or without Coach coming along; but it sure sounds like a package deal would bring them all the way up to our asking price.”
“They’d have to pay Coach whatever he wants, too.”
“They know that. His salary would be chump change compared to yours, though, so it’s barely worth stressing over. They said the two of you together would be a ‘dream team’—too big an opportunity to pass up.”
“That’s good to know.”
“No, it’s great to know. Are you sure you don’t want me to fly out there and join your golf game on Friday?”
“Having you there would only fuck up the vibe.”
“But what if Coach has questions about—”
“He won’t. Cam, I don’t want it to feel like a business meeting, okay? I want the conversation to unfold organically throughout the day.”
“Yeah, that’s probably the best strategy.”
“It’s not a strategy. That’s my whole point.”
“I’m just saying, whatever tack you want to take with Coach is great with me, as long as it gets the job done.”
“Would you take your agent cap off for a minute and be my best friend? You know Coach is like a second father to me, so I’m not gonna push him into doing anything he’s not completely sure about. He’s an institution at Michigan, so I don’t want him risking his legacy if he’s not one-hundred-percent certain that’s what he’s willing to do.”
Before Cameron responds, my phone buzzes with a call from my mother. “My mom is calling. Keep me posted.” Without waiting for Cameron’s reply, I end our call and take the incoming one. “Hey, Mom. Everything okay?”
“It’s great. We’re on the plane, and Maverick wanted to say another quick goodbye before it’s time to turn off our phones.”
I head into the bedroom. “Put him on.”
As I sit on the bed, there’s a shuffling noise, followed by the sweetest sound in the world. My son’s voice. “Guess what, Daddy? Grampa let me haveanudderWyan ice!”
“Anotherone?” I gasp out. The kid devoured Hawaiian ices twice daily this past week.
“Grampa said it was my last hooray.”
God, I love all of my son’s cute Maverickisms. “Grampa always knows best. Enjoy your last ‘hooray,’buddy.” As afamily, we’ve decided not to correct most of Maverick’s cute mispronunciations. As my mother said, he’ll grow out of them soon enough, at which point we’ll miss them dearly.
“Gramma said I can watch a movie on her iPad on da airplane, so I’m gonna watchCars.”
“Sounds like you’re gonna have a fun flight. I love you, Mav.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
Oh, my heart.Hearing those magical words from my son never gets old. “Hey, don’t hang up. Put Gramma back on.”
There’s another shuffle. And then my mother’s voice. “For the record, I wasn’t there when your father bought him thatHawaiian ice. If I’d been there, I would have put a stop to the madness.”
“Don’t be a scrooge, Mom. It was his last ‘hooray.’”
Mom cracks up. “I’ll put that in my journal.” She’s been meticulously keeping a journal about all the cute things her first grandchild says and does, the same way she kept journals about all three of her sons. “Mav said something journal-worthy earlier. He’d just come out of the—” There’s an overhead announcement on Mom’s end of the call. “Oh! They’re closing the doors. I have to hang up. I love you, sweetheart.”
