Then louder. “Yes. Yes!”
The room explodes with cheers, laughter and someone yelling something inappropriate, pretty sure it’s Greyson.
But I concentrate on the woman in my arms. She doesn’t even look at the ring. It’s still in my hand on her back as we hug.
For the first time in her life, she gets to choose and she’s choosing me.
I pull back and when I kiss her, slow and certain, there’s no question she’s my everything.
When we pull out of the kiss she screams, “I’m going to be an O’Ryan!”
She springs up, Sutton, Birdie and Noelle jumping withher in a circle. She doesn’t even care about the ring I spent a month’s salary on.
I found my person.
A person I can trust.
A person who cares about me, not fame or fortune.
The person that played with my head and won my heart and my trust.
BONUS EPILOGUE
WITT - TWO YEARS LATER
The first thing people notice about my office is the glass.
Floor-to-ceiling panels wrap around the top level of Armadillos Arena like a goddamn spaceship overlooking downtown Dallas.
The second thing they notice is the silence.
No TVs blasting sports commentary.
No music.
No assistants hovering.
Just the soft mechanical hum of servers in a 20 foot climate-controlled closet and the faint click of my keyboard.
Exactly how I like it.
Dara steps into my office carrying a tablet and an iced coffee I forgot I ordered forty minutes ago. “Your viewers think you died.”
I don’t glance up from the letter in my hand.
“Statistically unlikely,” I say.
“That was sarcasm.”
“I know.”
She drops the coffee beside me before adjusting the sleeve of her blazer. Dara’s worked for me long enough to understand the rules.
If I’m wearing the black headphones, don’t talk unless the building is on fire.
If I’m holding a letter, don’t interrupt.
And if both are happening simultaneously?
