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“You really do.”
“And I figure we’ll be fine on a teacher’s salary plus yours. Plus, the rainy-day fund has about ten in it.” It’s more. A lot more, but I don’t want to sound braggy when I’m trying to lock Lara down.
“Ten?”
“Million.”
She blinks. But hell, I’ve been cleaning my own bathrooms… where does she think the money’s going?
“And there’s also the private island fund. And Zamboni’s fashion fund, but the trust I set up for his care can’t be touched.”
“A trust,” she repeats, dryly.
“You know, in case something happens to both of us. I made Static the executor. But I’m offtrack. All I was saying is that if you put your faith in me, I swear I’ll support your ambitions, priorities, and dreams no matter what. We’ll find a way. Together. I want you to have everything.”
“Ben—” She squirms a little, and I set her down at the front of the store and place the Eye-C-T on the counter by the register. “What if… all I need is you? What if you’re what makes me feel secure, like, no matter what happens… so long as I’m with you, I’ll be safe?”
“Lara, you’ve got me.” She’s had me since we were eighteen years old. She took my heart. And no one ever had a chance at it again. “I’m about to do something rash, but I swear I’ve never felt more sure about anything in my life.”
She lifts a brow… and I sink down on one knee. “Marry me, Lara. You’re the girl who taught me what real love was, the friend who reminded me it was worth fighting for, and the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
And then because I mean it and I don’t want there to be any loopholes after she says yes— Because she’s one hundred percent going to. Okay, ninety-eight –I swipe a Ring Pop candy ring from the bin on the counter, rip off the wrapper, and hold it up to her.
She looks at the sucker and back to me. Blinking fast, she sinks to her knees and throws her arms around me. “It’s perfect. I love it.”
“Yeah?”
She bites her lip. “Yeah.”
“You’re going to marry me?” This is nothing to mess around with. I need a solid yes.
“Oh, yeah.” Her hand bunches in my shirt. “I’m going to marry you. Put a ring on it, please.”
I laugh, pulling her onto my lap. And then slipping the plastic band over her pinky, I grin like I’ve never grinned before. “I love you.”
She kisses me. “I love you too.”
EPILOGUE
Off-Season
Ben
New York
This apartment is the shit. Tall ceilings, great light, and a kick-ass kitchen that’s only been covered in a fine layer of flour once since we moved in, and then only because Lara distracted me while I was trying to make my mom’s scratch pizza recipe for her. The takeout we got after was great, but the snack I made of my girl before it arrived was Michelin-star-worthy.
Yeah, I love Chicago too, the fans, and my team, but after we got eliminated in playoffs, Lara and I grabbed our bug-out bag— Z’s Louis V travel crate —and flew home to New York. Zamboni loves it here and tore through the halls and around the furniture, wearing himself out, while I proved once again that my impulsive apartment purchase had great bones.
Totally stood up to the test of me trying to fuck my beautiful bride right through them.
Yep. We’re married.
Upgraded Lara’s ring and everything, though we totally saved that first one. It’s preserved in a solid resin block we keep on the mantel in the bedroom.
Lara took the promotion and is killing it in her new position. She was able to negotiate a deal where she works remotely from Chicago when the Slayers are at home and works out of the New York office when we’re away and through the off-season. So as far as the long-distance thing goes, we’re total #Goalz.
Zamboni lifts his head from where he’s curled up against my side on the couch, and a second later the front door opens and Lara walks in.
