Page 25 of Pitching for Keeps
"There," he says, voice rough. "That's better."
"Jay—"
"Marry me."
"What?"
"Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday. When I make it back up, or maybe even if I don't. Marry me, Tracy."
"Jay—"
"I know it's crazy. I know we just got back together five minutes ago. But I also know you kept grass from my no-hitter and I kept your journalism bracelet, and if that's not forever, I don't know what is."
Ted honks outside.
"That's your ride," I say weakly.
"Answer me first."
"You can't propose at my sister's wedding while I'm wearing a bridesmaid dress with a jersey over it!"
"Watch me." He drops to one knee right there in the foyer. "Tracy, please. You've been wearing my name for five years. Want to make it official?"
"This is insane."
"Is that a no?"
I look down at him—this boy I fell in love with over baseball statistics, who kept my bracelet, who's proposing with no ring while Ted honks increasingly urgently outside.
"It's a yes," I say. "Someday. When you're ready. Yes."
He jumps up and kisses me hard and fast and perfect.
"I love you," he says against my lips. "I love that you kept the grass. I love that you still wear my jersey. I love that you know my ERA to four decimal places?—"
"Two point seven four three," I correct.
"See? Perfect." He kisses me again. "I have to go."
"I know."
"I'll call you from Sacramento."
"I'll be watching the game."
"I know you will." He backs toward the door. "You always are."
"Always," I confirm.
He's gone, Ted's car peeling out of the driveway. I stand there in my bridesmaid dress and his jersey, grinning like an idiot.
"So," Megan says from the stairs, "did my baby sister just get engaged?"
"Someday engaged," I correct. "It's a thing."
"Is it though?"
"It is now."
