Page 144 of Bleacher Report
I reach her standing next to the bar, her hand frozen in place.
“You bet on me when I needed it the most. You showed me what family looks like outside of my own. And even when I thought that our story was over, you proved to me how far you're willing to go, and what you’re willing to give up for me. And I want to spend the rest of my life returning that kind of love and devotion.”
I pull out the ring box from the pocket it my slacks. The moment the box is visible, I hear the WAGs table collective sigh and Peyton’s gasp, as she quickly discards her blueberry lemon drop drink on the bar top.
“Hunter…” she whispers, shocked with a ghost of a smile on her lips. Her eyes flick to me and then back to the unopened box.
"Marry me. For real this time. No sticky notes. No fake dating. Just us, and Ma…and our dogs—both real and of the plant variety."
Her hands are shaking when she reaches for me. "Yes," she whispers, the tears in her eyes turning her smile into something I’ll never forget. "Of course I’ll marry you."
She jumps into my arms before I can even get the ring on. I slide my arms around her to catch her, laughing into her neck.She finally pulls back, and the moment I slide the ring on her finger, the room explodes.
Players pound their tables. Penelope throws confetti she found scattered on the table. Cammy and Kendall are jumping out of their chairs, shrieking and taking photo after photo with their phones. My mother is clapping, wiping a tear from her eye as she stands next to Coach Murphy who reached out to me months ago and came out to a few of our games. The rest of the players are applauding and catcalling.
I pull Peyton in and kiss her hard, and for a second, the world just...disappears.
Then I turn to the crowd, with Peyton tucked under my arm.
“Thank you all for coming this evening and being a part of this incredible organization. I know that your donations will be put to good use helping families pay for unexpected expenses during treatment. Something that is near and dear to my heart.”
Cammy walks over and takes the mic to announce that JP and Olsen will be conducting the second annual goalie shoot off and where guests can purchase tickets to take a shot.
And that’s when I spot her.
A woman weaving her way through the crowd. Designer dress. Red lipstick. And a cell phone in her hand.
Peyton sees her a split second before I do.
"Rebecca?"
The media exec offers her a warm smile. "Congratulations, you two. That was a beautiful proposal, Hunter. You clean up well."
I smirk. "Told you I had good timing."
Peyton blinks. "What are you doing here?"
"Hunter called," she says, glancing at me with something close to fondness. "Right after last New Year’s, trying to get your spot back with the network when he found out that you had given it up.”
Peyton looks up at me, her eyebrows pulled together, almost in disbelief. “You did?”
I just shrug. My call hadn’t made a difference then—since the network had already signed a different podcast, so I never bothered to mention it.
“He said I was making the biggest mistake of my career letting you go."
Peyton looks at me, stunned. "I can’t believe you did that."
"I might’ve made a few phone calls when Abby told me that you gave up everything for me. I was hoping to get it back for you." I admit, pulling her in closer.
Rebecca nods. "At the time, there wasn’t much I could do. But a few weeks ago, I landed a huge investor. Someone who believes in a women-led sports media network. And I want you, Peyton, to be the first face of it."
Peyton's jaw drops. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious. The contract is already drawn up. Bigger than the last offer, full creative control, and you can live wherever you want."
Rebecca lifts a brow. "New Jersey. Seattle. Timbuktu. Doesn’t matter. I just want you on the team."
Peyton stares at her, stunned silent.
