Page 130 of It's Always Sonny

“Santino Luciano, will you do me the honor of … coming with me?”

He laughs but takes my hand.

We stand up and I guide him hand in hand outside. After a half dozen steps, we enter a makeshift walkway, complete with hanging lanterns and a (fake) snowy white path. And there’s an adorable bleating goat who isn’t a baby anymore and who can walk on his legs, all by himself.

“Is that Sweetness? In a bowtie? On a leash?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” I say, taking Sweetness’s leash. He hops excitedly and leads us along.

I arranged for a long wall of white panels to line one side of the walkway, with projectors opposite them playing highlights from the annals of our history. College football games, videos that neither of us ever deleted from our phones. Slideshows of old—and new—photos together, as well as some I got from Sonny’s family and my friends. Photos of him in an NFL locker room or on the field. Pictures of me from events or with my friends.

And every step leads us closer to a canvas tent at the end of the walkway.

Sonny’s limp is almost completely gone, but as we walk this path together, I find I’m glad not to have to worry about his injury or the impact it will have on his career. His excitement for his own future is better than any championship.

As we reach the end of our history tour, Sonny notices the tent.

“Is that our tent?” he asks.

“Step inside and see for yourself,” I say. I may not have a huge grin on my face, but I can feel the smile in my eyes. My cheeks tighten and the corners of my eyes crinkle. It’s like putting the feelings of my heart on full display.

Our families have followed us, and I leave Sweetness with Sienna. Sonny and I enter the small tent perfect for the two of us, and we’re finally alone.

I’ve recreated what our tent looked like from that night months ago to the best of my recollection, and Sonny laughs to see it.

As grateful as I am for our loved ones to be here, I’m glad to have privacy. I adore them for wanting to be part of this moment, but it belongs to us.

We drop to our knees, because the tent isn’t big enough for Sonny to stand in. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Please do.”

I pull out the box burning a hole in my pocket and open it. It’s Sonny’s grandpa’s ring. “Will you marry me?”

Sonny laughs. “You are such a thunder stealer.”

“Huh?”

“I was planning to propose to you tonight.”

I can’t help but feel smug. “Were you?”

“Yes! My family has a flash mob ready for you! We were going to dance to ‘I Got You, Babe.’ Nonna even had a part.”

“Nonna’s the one who told me to propose to you tonight with your grandfather’s ring!”

“Yeah, well she told me if I didn’t propose to you tonight, she would regret her wedding day forever.”

I laugh so hard, I fall forward, bumping my head into his chest. “How many meddlers can one pavilion hold?”

“All of them. All of the meddlers.” He sits back on his heels but leans forward so our faces are closer in height. “Yes, by the way. I’ll marry the heck out of you. Gimme that ring.”

“Are you sure?”

“PJ, I am not above giving you a noogie. Give me that ring. Now.”

I slide it on his finger, and he squeezes me tightly. “I can’t wait another second to make you my wife.”

“You’re going to have to. I’m not doing a double wedding. I want sun, sand, and sleep.”

---