Page 103 of Waiting for Her

Grady lifts me up and spins me around, peppering my face with kisses. I wrap my legs around his waist, not caring that our family is being given a free show and kiss the hell out of him.

“Sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he growls quietly, burying his face in my neck.

“You’re going to be my husband,” I whisper into his ear, and I feel wetness hit my skin. From tears or his tongue, I’m not sure.

“You keep talking like that, and our family is going to be getting the X-rated version rather than PG-13.”

He gently places me back down on my feet and takes my face in his hands. “You said yes.”

“There was no other answer to give.”

Just then I hear what sounds like a marching band drum cadence begin before they begin playing the Liberty High fight song.

I look up at Grady with wide eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose and yells, “Mom! I told you NO marching band!”

“Hey, you’re the one who started it with the orchestra and choir!”

They’re shouting over each other as a small group of band members march around us playing a song I used to cheer to before they shift from the fight song directly intoThe Wedding March.

Barrett has his phone raised, recording the entire thing, and the rest of the family is laughing while taking turns to give us congratulatory hugs.

Hazel wedges herself between Grady and me, and he immediately reaches down to lift her up.

“You’re my brother now?” she asks, scrunching her nose up.

I giggle, knowing exactly why she’s asking.

“Well, soon I’ll be your brother-in-law, kiddo.”

“But that still means I can’t marry you, right?” Her eyes are pleading with me, but I’m still going to break her heart.

“Nope. He’s all mine. You gotta get your own Grady,” I tell her, tickling her side.

She pokes out her bottom lip in a pout but quickly gets distracted by the non-family members on the field.

When I see Coach Mac walk around the corner carrying a bouquet of roses, I feel like the night is complete. Throughout Grady’s entire football career at Liberty High, and even after, when Grady was playing for Southern Michigan State, he was in the stands every chance he could get.

I know this because whenever they had home games, the cameras would zoom in on him in the stands.

He hands the beautiful flowers to me, and I break out of Grady’s hold to give him a hug. “Missed you, old man,” I murmur, careful to keep the roses off to the side so I don’t smoosh them between us. “You’re looking well.”

“I work out,” he teases, flexing his bicep.

“Thank you, for everything,” I say, my arm sweeping out all around us.

“Eh, he did it all. I just provided the location.”

“Nah, you did far more and you know it.”

“An honor,” he murmurs, a slight blush creeping up his neck. “Now, let me see this rock.” He lifts my hand and inspects my ring. “Woo-wee! Wish I could take credit for this, too!” He winks and drops my hand.

“Moving in on my fiancée?” Grady asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close, and kisses my temple.

“Mmm,” I hum.

“Like hearing that, yeah?”

“Yeah, fiancé, I do.”

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