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“This is where I went to high school,” she tells me as we walk toward the building. “While you were winning a World Cup, I was playing right here.”
“You’ll win one too,” I reply. “Probably more than one.”
Saylor smiles, then tugs me closer to the field. I know where she’s headed even before she drops down in the center.
“Finally, some stars,” I say, staring up at the pinpricks of white light against the black backdrop of the sky.
Her laugh is light and happy, the sound more beautiful than the sight above. “We timed it right, for once.”
Every other time we’ve done this, it’s been the middle of the day.
“Speaking of timing…the summer transfer window opens July first,” she tells me.
I tense. “I know.”
There’s a long pause. “Rosenbauch is interested. My agent called yesterday.”
FC Rosenbauch is the German women’s team closest to Kluvberg. It’s the team my mom played for. The team Christina Weber played for. In a perfect world, it’s where Saylor would play. In my perfect world. But this is her career.
“Other teams are interested too, right?” I ask.
“Of course they are.”
Despite the heavy moment, I grin at her confidence.
“But if Rosenbauch makes an offer, I’m going to accept it.”
“You don’t have to do that, Saylor. Not for me, or us.” I never want to hold her back in any way. Because she shines brighter than the stars above us and I want everyone to see it. Because I’m terrified it’ll end in her resenting me or regretting our relationship.
“Because you don’t think we’ll make it?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the velvet box that’s been there all night. I set it on her stomach. “Because I’m certain we’ll make it no matter where you decide to play. I want you to sign with whatever team you want, and know that I’ll support your decision. That it won’t change anything between us. That we’ll make it work no matter what.”
Her eyes dart between me and the box. “Is that…”
“Yes. And I’m not sure if you’re ready, and it’s okay if you’re not. But I want you to know that I’m ready. You can answer me in a month. Or a year. A decade. In two years, my contract with Kluvberg will be up. I’ll have more options. Whatever you decide on now, it won’t be forever.”
“You’d leave FC Kluvberg and play for another team?”
“Yes.”
“And you’d marry me even if I play in England until I’m too old to pop out any soccer prodigies for you?”
I smile. “Yes.”
She stares at me, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “This wasn’t a super romantic proposal.”
I exhale, rubbing my face with my palm. “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t?—”
Her hand finds mine, tugging it off my eyes so I can see her again. “It was perfect.”
“I never even asked you.”
“So, ask.”
I take a deep breath. “Saylor Scott, will you marry me?”
She’s smiling, no sign of surprise. That’s what I was most worried about seeing, concerned she hadn’t even considered this step. And then I realize… “You found the ring, didn’t you?”
