Chapter 31
Farrah
Tonight was exactly what I’d needed.
To be surrounded by every single person I loved.
We arrived a little late to dinner, thanks to the personal spiral I’d had to drag myself through before getting into Walker’s truck.
I’d been scrolling through social media and stumbled across a photo of Walker and me.
The caption was harmless—and honestly, I wanted to frame the picture because of the way he was looking at me.
Swoon.
But then I made the mistake of scrolling.
You’d think I would know better by now, especially after just having a conversation with a few of the other players’ wives and girlfriends about protecting my peace and staying far, far away from comment sections.
Did I listen? Of course not.
Instead, I spent a solid twenty minutes doom-scrolling, hunting down every negative comment like it was my job. Then I stood in front of my mirror and picked apart every inch of myself, wondering if they were right.
Was it healthy? Absolutely not.
Did that stop me? Also no.
Luckily, Walker showed up, forcing me to pull myself away, and the moment I saw his face, felt his presence… all the noise quieted. The doubt faded. I felt anchored again. Back in us.
I decided to wait until after dinner to bring it up.
I wanted to handle it right this time. Even though I felt steadier, I wanted to be honest with him—to tell him how it affected me and, more importantly, how I was able to work through it.
We’d been here before, back in college, and I refused to give him another reason to doubt me.
When we got back to my place, we tucked Hadley into bed and settled onto the couch. Walker was scrolling through Netflix when I finally spoke.
“I saw a picture of us from Austin,” I said, peeking over at him.
He froze, jaw tightening. “Yeah. I saw it tonight.” He hesitated. “It’s a good picture, right?”
“It is,” I said softly. “And I want to be honest with you because a lot of our past issues came from me bottling things up.” I took a steadying breath.
“I read the comments. And I’m not going to lie, I spiraled.
I focused on the shitty ones and wasted way too much time questioning myself. That’s why I was running late tonight.”
His hand found mine immediately. “Farrah—”
“I’m not done,” I said gently, holding up a finger.
“The minute I saw you, I felt grounded. The noise faded. For once, I didn’t let it swallow me whole.
” I squeezed his hand. “There will be more pictures. More articles. More comments. I can’t control that.
But I can control how I respond, and I promise you that if I start feeling insecure, I’ll come to you first. We’ll work through it. Together.”
I watched the tension ease from his shoulders.
“That’s the part that scares me,” he said quietly. “Losing you to all the noise again.” His gaze dropped to our hands.
My chest tightened at his admission as I softly brushed my thumb over his knuckles. “You’re not going to.”
He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. Then he leaned forward and kissed me—soft, steady, sure.
“Together,” he murmured against my lips. "I like that."
"Together," I echoed.
“May I please speak to Farrah King?” the voice on the other end asked.
“This is she,” I replied, placing my phone on speaker as I organized the stack of fabric swatches scattered across my desk.
“Good morning, Ms. King. This is Tabitha York. I’m Duke Preston’s assistant. He reviewed the portfolio you sent over a few weeks ago and would like to schedule a time for you to come into the office to discuss the potential design job for the clubhouse renovation.”
I froze mid-swatch, my mouth falling open.
Emma and Maddie were both in my office. Their eyes widened in unison, and Emma mouthed silently, Are you for real?!
“Ms. King? Hello?”
“Sorry—yes!” I blurted. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to come in and discuss it.”
After we worked out the details, I hung up and turned to the girls, adrenaline buzzing through me. “Holy shit. We might be the design firm that renovates the Austin Aviators’ clubhouse!”
Maddie scoffed, planting a hand on her hip. “No. We are going to be the design firm that renovates the Austin Aviators’ clubhouse.”
Emma squealed, clapping her hands together. “I’m so excited. I’m so excited!”
We jumped around my office like lunatics, celebrating a job we didn’t technically have yet—but I didn’t care. Just getting a meeting with the owner of a Major League Baseball team was massive.
And for the first time, I didn’t give a shit that the door had been opened because of Walker.
Duke saw my work. He chose to move forward.
Now it was my job to close the deal.
I stood outside the elevator bays leading to the executive offices at the ballpark.
I readjusted my bag over my shoulder, nervously reciting my pitch in my head over and over.
Technically, I hadn’t been asked to prepare anything, but I knew better.
I was always prepared for any design opportunity that presented itself.
Landing this job would be huge for my career—access to Austin clients, bigger city budgets, a step beyond the small towns I’d built my business in.
The elevator chimed before the doors swung open, and I stepped inside.
Once I arrived at the executive offices level, I stepped out and headed in the direction Tabitha had instructed me to go.
After venturing down a few hallways, I planted myself in front of Tabitha York's desk and flashed her a smile.
She glanced up from the computer she was furiously typing on and, to my surprise, greeted me in return with a warm smile before she stood, extending her hand.
"Hello, you must be Ms. King. I'm Tabitha. It's great to meet you in person."
I shook her hand. "I am, it's so great to meet you as well. Thanks for scheduling everything for today."
She tucked a strand of her silver hair behind her ear. "Not a problem at all, I know Mr. Preston is excited to discuss the clubhouse with you."
I wanted to be Tabitha York when I grew up. She was in her fifties; gray hair cut into a perfectly groomed bob—beautiful and chic as hell. She carried herself with grace, but still with an edge I appreciated.
Tabitha led me back to Duke's office. The door was already open, but Tabitha stopped outside and knocked on the door frame. "Mr. Preston, Ms. King is here."
I crossed the threshold and took a moment to take in his vast office.
There were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the pristine baseball field on one side, and the other offered a breathtaking view of the Austin skyline, with the hill country tucked neatly in the distance.
Duke stood up and rounded his large desk to greet me.
After shaking my hand, he smiled, noticing the views I was busy admiring. "Pretty spectacular views, right? It's great to see you again, Farrah." He gestured towards the group of plush leather chairs that surrounded a circular table. "Please, have a seat."
I nodded. "It really is, and thanks again for the opportunity.
" I settled into one of the chairs as he took the chair across from me.
I glanced around his office, clocking all the finishes.
It was very masculine but still tastefully done.
Dark wood finishes accented with deep greens and navy, championship articles framed alongside signed baseballs tucked behind glass cases.
Duke studied me a moment. "Always a designer, huh? I see the way you’re taking in the space, and I assure you, I had nothing to do with this office; it was my father's and my grandfather’s before that. It's a bit dark for my taste."
I chuckled, the nerves easing. "Sorry, am I that obvious?"
Duke smiled. "Very… but that tells me a lot. In a good way." He noticed my bag hanging off the chair, his attention shifting.
I turned to grab my bag. "I brought a proposal for the clubhouse. Ideas I had for the space, some options for finishes, that sort of thing."
He held his hand up to stop me. "I prefer we go walk the space and talk through it as we go. How does that sound?"
A grin tugged at my lips. "I like that idea, let's do it." Walking a space always made the vision come alive—for my clients and for me.
As we made our way to the clubhouse, we made brief small talk, and one thing I immediately appreciated was that he never once brought up Walker. It made the opportunity feel truly earned because of my talent, not because of who my boyfriend was.
Duke took me into the players’ lounge first. I instantly noticed the harsh fluorescent lighting, the worn leather couches, and a few flat-screen TVs hung on the wall.
Off to one side was a fridge, a coffee maker, and a few tables.
It felt more like a hospital waiting room than a players’ lounge for an elite major league baseball team.
After I finished looking around the space, I faced Duke.
"All right, lay it on me," he teased, clearly knowing how bad the space was.
“First thing—I’d eliminate the overhead lighting.
This should be a space where the guys can actually relax and reset,” I said, gesturing around us.
“I’d rip out the kitchenette and replace it with a long quartz countertop and a central island with barstools.
” I pointed out where I envisioned it. “An industrial-sized fridge, a deep navy feature wall to ground the room, softened with layered lighting and fabric accents. To keep it masculine, I’d bring in reclaimed wood tables, updated leather couches, and a few recliners.
Then tie everything together with an accent rug here.
” I moved toward the TVs. “Four screens instead of two—positioned in a square—and subtle touches of Aviators’ colors and branding throughout. ”
Duke nodded as he took in the space, his gaze tracking where I’d pointed things out. “I love it,” he said thoughtfully.
“Great. I have mockups on my computer for all the spaces,” I replied, “but where to next?”
We moved into the main locker room. “In here, the bones are solid,” I said. “I’d replace the lockers, clean up the walls, and refinish the floors—keep the layout, just elevate it.”
Next came the training room and showers. “This space needs softer lighting and a calmer palette,” I continued. “It’s about recovery and healing. I’d also upgrade the rehab equipment and training tables. And for the showers, I’d tear out the dated tile and replace it with a modern slate.”
Once we were back in his office, I pulled up the renderings on my computer and walked Duke through each space. He shook his head more than once, seemingly impressed.
“You came incredibly prepared,” he said.
I smiled. “I may have badgered your assistant for photos and measurements.”
We moved on to budget—and when he laid out the number he had in mind, my pulse kicked up, even as I kept my expression steady. It was massive. Exactly the kind of project that could change everything for my business.
We talked timelines next. The plan was to start immediately after the season ended, aiming to have the renovation completed before next year’s opening day.
"So, Farrah. Are you in?"