He puts my phone down on the console. "This isn't about me at all."
I shrug. "I may have used some inspiration for the hero's backside. Yours is so fine, it should be commemorated in books. I'd take a photo and put it on the cover if I could. But otherwise, unless you're secretly undead and in search of your family's long-lost treasure, no."
"Why didn't you say something?"
I shrug again. "The other stuff, the Tony stuff, was big. And the social media stuff was true. I mean, I've gained over five hundred thousand followers just by being a hot mess. Hell, Phaedra was even following me."
That was a shock. And total coincidence that I saw her name on a post.
"Plus, you met my family."
"Yes, and at some point, we're going to have to unpack that bag," Xavier says.
Sighing I say, "I know. But in the meantime, I had to make this right for you."
"But I don't understand why."
"Why wouldn't I? Soccer is your dream. Your passion. You weren't ready to give that up yet, so I couldn't let some wanker take it from you."
He looks at me. "You really want nothing else from me, do you?" His voice is incredulous, like he can't believe what he's saying.
I don't want to lie to him. I don't want to keep anything from him ever again. "That's not totally true. There is something I want from you."
I see his chest rise and fall as he closes his eyes for a moment.
Quickly, I say, "I want you to marry me. For real. I want to be your wife, and all that goes with it. Soccer games, making smoothies, being a WAG. You tell me and I'll do it, as long as you'll marry me for real this time."
"Dammit, Ophelia."
Shit. No. He's going to jump out of this car and run far away. "I'm sorry. I know it's too much. But that's me. Always too much. We can get a divorce. Owen will figure out a way—"
My words are cut short when Xavier's mouth crashes on mine. He's holding my face in his hands, keeping me close to him. "No, dammit, Ophelia," he says, breathless. "I wanted to be the one to propose this time. Haven't you ever seen a romance movie? The man does it."
I laugh and he kisses me again, this time soft and sweet. A sigh escapes me. "So no divorce?"
"No divorce, but yes a proper wedding and proper marriage. But first, we need to celebrate properly, which may or may not include my fantasy of seeing you in nothing but my jersey with my name across your back. Now, where are we going to make all this happen?"
"Home."
Epilogue: Ophelia
A proper wedding indeed. Well, as proper as we could put together on two months' notice.
It's on a Thursday still because that's the only day we could rent out The Tower, where the Buzzards had their cocktail reception. We're on the fourth floor, in the library, which is perfect for a bookworm like me.
Xavier starts practice next Tuesday with the Buzzards, so we'll be spending his last few days on a mini-honeymoon back at Avon Old Farms Hotel, complete with the four-poster bed.
I'm thinking of getting one for home. Our home. The apartment we picked out. We're in the back bedroom together, with the front bedroom as a guest room. Xavier's parents are staying there this week. Philip is up in the loft, sleeping on my ugly couch. He's quite the grump about it.
But for right now, I'm getting ready to walk down the small aisle toward the man I love. This time, I'm wearing a long white off-the-shoulder A-line dress made of the world's softest chiffon. Marley looks stunning as my maid of honor in her black dress. There was no way I was getting married (again) without my ride-or-die.
"Here are your flowers," she says, handing me my bouquet. Naturally, I had the florist recreate the flowers Xavier gave me on our first wedding day. "I didn't threaten Xavier this time, but I can before we start. Should I?"
Of course, Marley gave Xavier the "talk" before our first wedding. I'd expect no less of her. "No, I think we're good there."
"Good. Are you ready?"
"Are the favors all set?"
