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“A surprised one. I didn’t, um…we haven’t talked about it.”
There’s a pause. “Shawn thinks a US team is going to make me an offer next season.”
“A US team made you an offer this season.”
“I know,” he says. “But the team that wants me now…they’re in Boston. I’m happy in Kluvberg. Your whole life is there. So, I decided I wasn’t going to bring it up until…it didn’t feel fair to ask you to marry me without discussing that first. And I won’t know for a few more months if it’s a real option or not.”
I’m silent, processing.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Will says. “We can talk about it more when we get home. Let’s just enjoy the trip, okay?”
I hesitate before saying, “Okay.”
There’s more I feel like I should tell him, but I haven’t sorted through my thoughts yet. Will’s already rolling over, and knowing him, he’ll be asleep in minutes.
I lie awake, listening to the strange noises.
Breakfast is a blur. I’m tired, not having slept well last night.
Neither Will nor I bring up last night’s conversation. But it’s there, hovering between us as we talk about today’s itinerary. As we climb into the Land Cruiser and head across the Serengeti.
It’s an eventful morning. We pass herds of wildebeest and zebras, then pass several crocodiles sunbathing in the Grumeti River. After spotting a few gazelles, we head back toward the camp for lunch. The incessant bouncing over the rough terrain helps me keep my eyes open, at least.
I glance over at Will. He’s backlit by the sun, the illumination making his profile glow. It’s so similar to the first time I saw him, towering over me in the top section of the stadium’s stands.
My eyes fall to his wrist, the tattoo there a permanent reminder of that fateful moment.
He looks over like he feels my eyes on him, his expression visibly softening when he catches me staring at him. “What?”
I shake my head, feeling almost shy. I feel like I’ve known Will forever. He knows me better than anyone else. But I still experience the giddiness and butterflies of a crush around him too.
He quirks a brow in another, silent question.
“You can ask,” I tell him.
“What?”
“The question you were thinking about, before the Boston’s team offer came up. You can ask because where you play won’t change my answer.”
“You’d move to Boston?”
I nod. “Photographers can work anywhere, remember?”
One corner of his mouth curves up as I quote the words he told me a long time ago back to him. “I remember.”
I nod. “Okay then.”
“Okay then,” he repeats.
Will leans forward and kisses me. He always says he’s bad with words, but I disagree. He tells me everything I need to know, everything I want to hear. But he also communicates a lot with his actions. I can feel the love and the relief in the press of his lips against mine, like the seal of a promise. A silent vow about the future—about our future.
He grins when our mouths separate, and I snuggle into his side, tucking my head under his chin and pressing my cheek against his chest. I can hear the steady thud of his heartbeat buried beneath layers of skin and muscle. Solid and warm and alive.
We ride like that the rest of the drive back to camp. And I’ve never felt more content.
EPILOGUE
WILL
