Now my heart is rolling over in my chest, my pulse thundering to my veins. I don’t care that the guys are watching me, that twenty-thousand-plus gazes are likely glued to me. I just ask, “What’s that?”
His grin widens. “Well, you know I love you, and you love me?—”
There’s a collective inhalation from all around me.
“And you’re the absolute best thing that has ever happened to me…”
Someone says, “Aw!” and my lips curve up.
“I feel the same about you,” I say into the microphone.
Moreof the crowd joins in with an “Aw,” and I don’t miss that I’m suddenly surrounded by smirking hockey players.
Christ, I’m never going to live this down.
And I don’t fucking care.
“So…I wanted to ask if you’d do me the honor of marrying me.”
There’s another inhalation…or maybe that’s just me, because I can barely hear myself over my pounding heart, can barely force my lungs to keep drawing in air and letting it out again.
He asked?—
Holy shit.
Then the crowd starts chanting, “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” and every cell in my body screams at me to just blurt out my “Yes!” and turn into a blubbering mess.
But then…the mischief takes over.
I look up at the box high overhead, grin, and say, “I’ll have you know I don’t talk about my personal life in public.”
The crowd roars, laughter and cheers mingling at the blatant lie.
“Well, I guess that means I’d better get down here and ask you myself.”
I still.
Because that last sentence didn’t boom its way through the arena’s speakers.
It’s said from a couple of feet behind me.
Slowly, I turn around…and see that Damon’s on one knee just behind the bench.
“Come here, Red,” he orders.
“But you hate phone calls,” I blurt inanely.
“And yet”—his smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—“I just made the most important one of my life.”
I throw myself into his arms, and—spoiler alert—I turn into that blubbering mess. He doesn’t falter, just catches me close, holding me tightly against him, my tears soaking into his suit. His head drops, lips coming to my ear.
“Does this mean you say yes?”
Colt, Four Months Later
I crouch and unscrew the little black cap, press the tip of the ballpoint pen against the valve.
Air hisses out in a rush.
