Honestly, while the meal was delicious, every memory of the dishes Ezra had prepared for us fled my mind the moment we finished dessert and the stage suddenly illuminated.
“What is happening?” Owen only shrugged, turning his attention toward the front of the room.
All the air in my lungs and every thought in my head vacated me when a man stepped out from the wings, a guitar slung across his body, sleeves of his signature flannel rolled up to his elbows, showcasing the tattoos I’d know anywhere.
I gaped at Owen. “You didn’t.”
“I think I did,” he said, reaching out to gently close my mouth. “You’re drooling.”
“That’s fuckingBoston Everett,” I hissed. “Of course I’m drooling!”
“Careful, Whiskey,” he said. “Lest you forget how jealous I can get.”
I scoffed. “He’s the biggest country artist in the world,” I said. “He doesn’t give a fuck about me.”
“You bagged an NFL quarterback,” he reminded me.
“Retired,” I said, shooting his favorite quip back at him.
“Hi, Delia,” Boston said into the mic. “According to your boyfriend, you’re a huge fan of mine, and he asked if I’d come outand do a private show for you to celebrate your anniversary. Not gonna lie, man,” he continued, directing his attention at Owen, “I about shit my pants when I got your call. I’m ahugefan of yours.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “So anyway, here we go. This first one is called ‘Rich.’”
As the opening bars of Boston’s most popular love song rang through the speakers, Owen rose from his seat and extended a hand to me.
“May I have this dance?”
Still in shock that he’d done this for me, I stood on shaky legs and followed him closer to the stage, where he hooked my arms around his neck before looping his around my waist. As we swayed, Boston sang about being rich in love, and I rested my head on Owen’s chest. The steady beat of his heart melted into the strings Boston picked, and I floated away, losing myself wholly in this moment.
“Whiskey,” he whispered, and I lifted my head to look at him. “I have a question for you.”
“If you’re wondering if I love you, the answer is yes times a million.” I craned my neck, and he met me for a kiss.
With a laugh, Owen shook his head. “That’s not it, but hold onto that answer.”
As Boston sang the final note, Owen stepped away from me…
And dropped to his knee.
“No.”
“Delia…” he warned.
I slapped my palm over my mouth, holding in all the words that flooded forward.
“I performed this exact act a lot in my career,” he said, gesturingto his position on the floor. “And a few times since,” he added with a smirk, throwing me back to that day at Overtime when he went down on me for the first time.
Exactly a year ago.
“But it’s never meant more than it does right now. You are more than I ever bargained for and everything I never knew I needed. This last year with you has been the best of my life. Pardon the football metaphor, but every day with you is a victory. I love you more with each passing second, and now I’m wondering…will you marry me and be my teammate forever?”
I didn’t need to consider it. I simply dropped to the floor in front of him and whispered, “Yes, Owen Lawless. Of course I’ll marry you.”
He patted himself down, at last digging into his pants pocket and withdrawing a velvet jewelry box. When he popped it open, I gasped.
“It’s too big.”
“No such thing.”
“Owen.”
