Page 40 of Ready to Snap
As I’m about to run into the tunnel, Elle is waiting with her VIP pass, wearing my jersey. She runs into my arms and I kiss her with abandon. I missed her so fucking much that I couldn’t give a fuck about my gear and toss my helmet aside. Elle was always supposed to be mine—even if neither of us knew it years ago.
I pull back to get a good look at her. “Hey, gorgeous. Where are the guys?”
“Going back to your place to wait for you. I thought I’d stick around.”
“Fuck that. I’m skipping the media circus.”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to give your statement about how you love your team and how talented they are, then you’re signing autographs until the last fan leaves,” she insists with her usual gusto. “This could be your last home game.”
“You’re right,” I groan, and kiss her again. As she moans into my mouth, I’m tempted to drag her into a closet somewhere until she’s screaming my name. I guide her off to the side and reach into my zippered pocket, pulling out a small jewelry pouch. I don’t want to wait until tonight. “I’m not getting on one knee because I want this moment just for us. Right after we hung up the video call last week, I did a little…shopping.”
I take out the ring, and I can’t stop smiling. I almost went with an obnoxiously large diamond, but it would’ve earnedme her typical eye roll. I wanted something special; something uniquely her. There was a dark blue sapphire that reminded me of her eyes—I had to get it. There is no right time to propose to someone; when you know, you know.
Eyes wide, she gasps, “Will!”
“Marry me, gorgeous.”
Elle kisses me and laughs against my lips. “I should’ve known you’d pull a stunt like this!” I stealthily slide the ring onto her finger, and as we break apart, she pins me with a glare. “I didn’t say yes.”
“I also didn’t technically ask either, because I know you’re going to be my wife.” Gliding my hand into her hair, I kiss her again. Lights flash around us, so I take her hand and lead her into the tunnel, away from prying eyes. “I love you, Elle.”
She reaches to brush my damp hair off my forehead. “I love you too.”
I pull her closer and whisper beside her ear, “Elle Darling has a good ring to it, don’t you think?”
“It does,” she agrees with a hum. “Okay, fine. Yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Don’t sound too excited! Let’s try that again:Will Darling, love of my life, I can’t wait to marry you.”
She lets out a full laugh and—as expected—playfully rolls her eyes. “Will Darling, love of my life, I can’t wait to marry you.”
I shout into the tunnel, “Elle Davis just said I’m the love of her life! And she can’t wait to marry me!”
There are whoops and hollers as she hides her face. I kiss the top of her head, and my heart is so full it’s going to burst out of my chest.
Tilting her chin to look at me, I assure her, “I love you so fucking much. You’re my soulmate, gorgeous, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life choosing you.”
EPILOGUE — WILL
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Elle-bear! You’re huge,” Nora coos, rubbing Elle’s growing belly.
“Ugh, I know! You’d think after baby number three, my body would be used to this,” she groans, opening the door wider for Nora, Ronan, and their son, Leo, to enter. He’s so much taller than I remember—I haven’t seen him since my wedding. At sixteen and nearly six-one, Leo is nearly the same size as his parents. Bridget and Luc’s son, Gavin, lights up when he sees him, and the two of them busy themselves with watching the soccer game away from the little kids.
It’s an unusually cold day in March, and I help everyone with their coats, then whisper to Elle, “You’re not huge; you’re fucking gorgeous.” It earns me an anticipated eye roll and wide smile. If I had it my way, we’d have ten kids—but I agreed when we got pregnant with number four I’d go in for a little snip-snip. I procrastinated, and had it done this week.
They join Russ and Scarlett at the kitchen island, where Lucas’ wife, Bridget, insisted she was in charge of pouring wine and beer. It’s a little unconventional for ababy shower—no gifts, just drinks and barbecue—but when have Elle and I ever been conventional?
“Can you turn up the tele?” Nora asks, sipping her sav blanc.
As Leo turns up the volume, I ask, “Are we placing bets on the soccer match?”
“Football,” Ronan groans, making Russ and me chuckle.
I pour lemonade for the kids, and for Elle and me—I don’t drink when she’s pregnant—then fire up the grill on the patio. While I miss my place in New York, we have significantly more space here in California, with a backyard for our kids. Nate is three and a half, Stella is almost two, and Ronan—named after my favoritesoccerplayer—is turning one this year. They are all so full of energy. I never thought I’d be a suburban house-husband, but I’ve never been happier.
The doorbell rings, and Russ offers to answer it. Dean and his wife, Meghan, weren’t able to make it, but she offered to send over a cake from the restaurant she owns. Dean doesn’t care that Elle has spent most of the past five years either pregnant or on maternity leave—she’s the best operations manager the world has ever seen.
