“You did it,” she gushes, reaching up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the side of my jaw.
“We did,” I say, cupping her cheek and running my thumb over her pouty lips.
“I’m so proud of you.” She nuzzles into my touch, and my heart damn near explodes.
Dropping my bag, I take her hand and lead her out on to the pitch. Her eyes drift over the empty stadium, turning her head to take it all in.
“Are we allowed to be out here?” she asks, turning her attention back to me when we reach the kick-off spot.
A small breeze blows her hair into her face, and I tuck the wayward strands behind her ear. “I’ve got permission,” I murmur, my heart racing so fast I hope I don’t pass out.
Framed in the lights of the stadium, Willow has never looked more beautiful. She gazes up at me with thoseocean blue eyes, and I know I’m the luckiest man on this planet. Before I can lose my nerve, I take a step back, pulling the little velvet box from my pocket as I lower to one knee.
Her eyes widen when I open it, revealing the princess-cut diamond ring. “Luca…”
“Our road here hasn’t been easy, and my biggest regret is ignoring you for the first four years, but we’ve come through all the hard stuff—leaving home, starting fresh here in the UK, and blocking out the voices that weren’t on our side.” My throat tightens, but I push on. “Through all of that, we built something good. Something real. You’re my home, Willow. I love you.”
She covers her mouth, tears shining in her eyes.
“Every time you wear my name on your back,” I say with a watery grin, tugging on the hem of her jersey, “I feel like the luckiest guy alive. But I don’t want you to only wear my name on match days. I want it to be forever.”
I take her hand in mine.
“Willow Jane Hepburn, will you make it official? Will you marry me?”
She sniffs, swiping at her eyes as she nods. “Yes. Of course, I will.”
With shaking hands, I slip the ring onto her finger before climbing to my feet and crushing my lips to hers. It’s messy, and full of too many emotions to untangle—relief, love, nerves, and a thousand memories together, culminating in this one—but Willow’s hands find my face like they always do, and she kisses me back with everything she has.
Whenwe finally pull apart, she’s laughing through her tears.
“Trust me to be wearing contacts and mascara when you make me cry,” she chokes out, wiping under her eyes. “I can’t see a bloody thing.”
I laugh with her, still catching my breath. “You look perfect.”
She snorts, swiping at another tear. “I look like a raccoon.”
“Still perfect.” I press a kiss to the tip of her nose.
Her watery eyes meet mine, and she smiles. “We’re perfect.”
I don’t say anything. Instead, I pull her closer and squeeze her waist. “Let’s go home.”
Willow hesitates. “What about the team?”
“Forget about the team. I can celebrate with them in a couple of weeks when we get promoted.” I have no doubt we can pull it off. “Tonight, I want to celebrate with my fiancée.”
Her cheeks flush, and she nods. “Let’s go.”
We retrieve my bag and head out to the players’ carpark. I drive us home in comfortable silence, unable to wipe the grin off my face. Every time I peek over at her, she’s staring down at her left hand with a soft smile.
I park outside our little cottage, and as we walk up to our front door, I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing the gleaming rock.
“I love you, Angel. I’m so relieved you said yes.”
She looks up at me, a teasing glint in her eye. “Well, I was holding out for Ronaldo, but he’s too in love with his wife, and probably a little old for me, anyway.”
I raise a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Are you being a brat on the day I propose?”
