There’s confetti all over the ground and floating in the air. Loud, celebratory music blaring. Swarms of camera operators and reporters jockeying for position.People, people, people, everywhere.
Not surprisingly, a throng of reporters, cameras, and booms presently surround Roman and Coach Hardy as they exchange tearful words about twenty yards from where my group has come to a stop. Surely, those reporters are beaming out every emotional word between the pair to the world in real time.
When the short exchange between Roman and his beloved coach ends, Roman moves on to hugging Marco, who’s been waiting nearby for his moment. Marco looks defeated and exhausted in this moment, but even so, he manages a wide, tearful smile for his cousin before enthusiastically embracing him. If Marco was going to lose to anyone, I’m sure he’s glad it was his beloved Romie.
A tearful Nicola offers a quick peck to Roman’s cheek, but soon, Roman locks eyes with our group and heads toward us as that pack of reporters moves in lockstep with him.
Before Roman reaches us, he turns to the nearest camera and shoves three upside-down fingers into its lens. Apparently, Roman wants his son to know his daddy is thinking about him, even now, in this one-of-a-kind moment.
Finally, Roman makes it through the throngs of people to reach our group, at which point he energetically hugs both of his parents, followed by Levi and Cameron. When he gets to Luca, I can’t help noticing Luca covertly handing Roman something. Something that fit neatly inside Roman’s palm. What was that? Did I imagine that? I can’t fathom what it could have been.
My thoughts are interrupted when Roman takes me into hisarms. Suddenly, I forget all about whatever that possible handoff might have been. “You did it!” I shout into Roman’s ear so he can hear me above the pandemonium. “I’m so proud of you, baby!”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Roman replies, squeezing me tight. “I love you so much.” He kisses me deeply, and as he does, the world melts away. When Roman finally releases me, I’m expecting him to kiss my cheek and jog off to his next destination. But to my shock, he takes both my hands, kneels before me, and holds up a ring box displaying a massive, dazzling whopper of a diamond ring nestled in black velvet.
“Oh my God!” I blurt, as the cameras surrounding us squeeze in to capture the moment.
“Iris Eugenie Benedetto,” Roman says with tears in his eyes and a tremble in his deep voice. “You’re my lucky charm. My best friend. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, as my wife. Iris, will you marry me?”
I barely get out my shrieking yes, thanks to the sob involuntarily hurtling out of my throat. But thankfully, Roman understands me well enough. With a whoop, he slides the massive rock onto my finger, rises, and takes me into his arms, crushing my sobbing frame against his chest.
When I open my eyes, there’s a camera that’s squeezed in so shockingly close, I feel like I’m going to pass out from claustrophobia. “Roman,” I gasp out, clinging to his jersey for dear life. “Tell that guy to back up.”
I don’t need to ask him twice.
In a flash, Roman grabs that intrusive camera’s massive lens with both of his large hands and guides it back. But he doesn’t push the offending camera as far back as I’m expecting. Instead, once it’s out of my personal space, he thrusts his sweaty face into its lens and bellows, “Do you see that gorgeous woman—that perfect ten over there? She’s my fiancée now.My future wife.So, anyone who’s got anything negative to say about her better comesay it directly to my face—or better yet, don’t say anything at all.”
Swoon.
His nostrils flaring, Roman holds up my ringed hand to the camera. “My future wife,” he repeats. When he lowers my hand, he kisses me again, this time so passionately, my body goes slack in his arms, like I’ve been electrocuted.Holy shit.
Surely, Roman’s proposal and that sexy little speech into the camera will spread like wildfire on the internet, far more so than my stupid runaway bride video that already feels like ancient history. At least, I genuinely hope that’s the case, because hot damn:Roman proposing to me and telling the world to shut the fuck up about his future wife is one viral video I’ll be absolutely thrilled to star in.
Chapter 40
Iris
A Year and a Few Months Later
After putting Maverickto bed, Roman slides onto the couch next to me, where I’m reviewing this month’s payroll for my new equine therapy center.
As he gets settled, I close my laptop and grin at him. “Did he fall asleep in the middle of his first book?” We have a running bet about how quickly Maverick will fall asleep—namely, whether he’ll make it through his first requested book or not. It’s an especially fun game on days like today, when Maverick played especially hard.
Roman flashes me an achingly handsome smile. “He passed out on page three. You win.” He motions to my closed laptop. “Finish up, if you need to.”
“I’m good. It’s not due till tomorrow.” I slide the laptop onto the coffee table and snuggle up to him. “How was the shoot today?”
“Fun, boring, long.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Lucrative.”
We both laugh. After back-to-back Super Bowl wins, money seems to grow on trees for Roman Maguire these days. Sponsorships, licensing deals, brand deals, investment opportunities. He’s got his pick of all of them—and they’re all worth millions on top of endless millions. Hence, the top-of-the-line equine therapy facility Roman was able to build for me without breaking a sweat.
With a kiss to my temple, Roman asks, “Did you have fun shopping for wedding dresses today?”
I can’t help smiling from ear to ear. “I sure did. I found the perfect dress—only the third one I tried on.”
“Congrats. I can’t wait to see it on my fiancée ... and take it off mywife.”
Today’s shopping excursion was a dream come true.
