Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Tonight is going to be another one of them.
I haven’t had the money to buy her the kind of ring she deserves. Every day she has gone without a diamond on her finger has been physical torture. But it ends now.
My rock is finally going to wear my rock.
“Come on, I need to show you the view.”
“Lead the way,” she murmurs, slipping her hand into mine, the gesture speaking to her trust in me, and I pull her toward the deck of the team owner’s house. Earlier, before Britta arrived at the party, I came out and surveyed the beautiful Pacific Ocean in the distance, but it looks a million times better now that she’s with me, just like everything else.
She makes life a fucking joy.
I hear her intake of breath as we reach the edge of the deck, but I can’t look at the water because I’m mesmerized by the moonlight washing over her skin. Craving more closeness with her, I keep her facing the ocean and wrap my arms around her from behind, kissing the crown of her head, swaying with her as the waves crash below.
“I could have missed this,” she whispers. “I was thinking about how easily things could have been different when I left class today. I could have been going back to my apartment in Connecticut alone, instead of our place. Our. Place. With the basil plant in the window and that weird sound the shower makes when we turn it on. The perfect bed. The music we can hear from the jazz club if we open our windows on Friday and Saturday night. I could have missed it.”
It’s almost impossible to speak. Hearing her acknowledge all those little things out loud floods me with . . . safety. I have a person who notices all the same stuff as I do. There is nothing better. Nothing. “But you didn’t miss it, Britta. You’re here—and that would have been enough, but you keep amazing me. Enrolling in business school the week after we arrived, making new friends, showing up to every damn game in my jersey and keeping the refs in check.” I inhale the scent of her shampoo. “You’re not just here; you’re outdoing yourself.”
She turns around slowly, looping her arms around my neck. “Funny, I could say the same about you, Anaheim’s dazzling new rookie.”
“Dazzling?” I snort, trailing my fingers through her hair.
“Sorry. Murderous. Intimidating. Fierce.”
“Much better.”
She laughs, tilts her head back, and we slide into a kiss. Like most of our kisses, things remain tame for under five seconds before our tongues take control, and I’m doing my best to inhale her. My hands itch to jerk up the back of her dress and grip that tush, but that probably wouldn’t make a very good impression on my new bosses and teammates. Plus, I’ve got a goal that needs accomplishing. Now.
As subtly as possible, I check my watch. 8:59.
Fireworks are set to go off at midnight at a nearby marina, but there is a private show that should be starting in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
A clap follows a boom in the night sky, and Britta gasps, turning around, away from me, her hands wrapping around the glass barrier wall. I had a vision of how this proposal would go. She would be facing me. I would get down on one knee and give her the words that might be a formality at this point but that she damn well deserves, nonetheless.
If I’ve learned one thing being in a relationship with Britta, however, it’s that things aren’t on my timeline. They’re on ours. I adapted to this girl, and she adapted to me. And I’ll keep adapting for the rest of our lives, because that’s what allowed me to keep her—and that’s a success that can’t be measured. Keeping that in mind, I memorize the image of her outline surrounded by plumes of white, pink, and silver, and I take the ring out of my jacket pocket.
Out of the box altogether.
I pull her back against my chest with my left arm and speak in a low voice near her ear.
“You know, tonight marks the end of our expirationship.”
I watch her profile as she blinks, breathes a laugh. “It didn’t even cross my mind.”
For the briefest of seconds, the terrifying thought of what tonight could have been like, if she hadn’t given us a chance, assails me, and I have to close my eyes or get dizzy. “Good, Britta. Because we don’t have an end date.”
It’s an effort to speak around the heaviness in my throat, but I hold the ring up in front of her, watching fireworks go off in her widening eyes, hearing the sharp intake of her breath. “Oh my gosh.” Her chest heaves up, down, and I see half of the most beautiful watery smile. “Sum . . .”