That was the moment I started to breathe.
"When you love someone," I said, holding her gaze to mine since I couldn't jump over the table and hold her to me. "Figuring it out is the fun part."
The edges of her lips tilted up at the sides, and her eyes misted. And, you know what? Fuck it.
There wasn't one rule that said I couldn't jump over the damn table if it meant I'd get to my wife.
So, I did.
Vaulted right over the sonofabitch and moved straight to my Maya.
Maya, whose eyes had gotten huge about the time I'd slid my ass across the table and knocked off a few microphones in the process.
"What are you doing?" she asked, breathy as all hell and gorgeous as all fuck.
"I came to kiss my wife."
The room stilled, some kind of universal pause button having been pushed about the time I decided to follow through on every single promise I'd ever made, and every single promise I'd ever make to this woman.
She sucked in a quick breath of air, which was good because she'd need it while I kissed the hell out of her. Right there in front of the media. In front of my teammates. In front of the entire fucking world.
Because, dammit, this was the fun part.
"You know," I said, in her ear so only she could hear, "I heard once that women like to have their respect served with a side of tongue. That still hold true?"
Maya nodded, unable to find words. Which wasn't a problem, because with what I had planned, we wouldn't need them.
"Sloan," Elliott practically shouted my name, cutting through this fucking fabulous moment between Maya and me.
I turned, only because he'd always had my back and while his timing was shit, he'd never truly let me down.
"Hot mic," he said, pointing to his lapel.
I glanced at the microphone clipped to my shirt and said, "Fuck."
"I think they heard about the respect served with a side of tongue," Maya whispered. Which she didn't need to do because my lapel microphone would pick it up no matter what her volume.
"I love you," she said, not whispering. "I love singing in stadiums, and I love my ZipZings, but I'm in love with you, Sloan Stevens, and there's no way I'm doing life without you."
"You think you're still in love with the idea of being in love?" I asked, not even serious because I knew the answer already.
"I'm not in love with the idea of marriage or even getting married." She smiled as she pressed her forehead to mine. "Or being in love with being in love." She held my gaze with hers as she said, "I'm in love with you, Sloan Stevens. For better or for worse."
"Mine," I said, leaning in to pull her for a kiss.
She broke it only long enough to say, "All yours. And you're mine, too."
Yes, yes, I was.
Instead of saying something smart or just saying nothing at all, I ripped the damn microphone off, pulled the wires free, and then I picked Maya up in my arms.
"Did you actually add product placement to your declaration of love for me?" I asked, chuckling.
"I figured it couldn't hurt when you finally have that meeting with them." She smiled against my mouth.
I carried her like we'd just gotten married, and there was a threshold or some shit like that—her arms around my neck and my grip holding her tight.
That was how we left the press conference.
