And the winners rush to celebrate on the field.
It’s wild and exhilarating, and since I feel like I’m dancing in the sky, I can’t even imagine the emotions swirling through the man I love.
A few minutes into our sideline celebration, Emerson grabs my arm, then nods at Abby.
“Look who’s here.”
Emerson tugs me, and Abby by extension, to the sidelines. In a flash, I’m grinning and I can’t stop.
My guy is there for us, waiting, like he was a few months ago after the game in San Francisco.
Harlan reaches for me, and I hop down into his arms. Emerson lifts up Abby, and Harlan scoops her into his arms next. “Hey, little bear, what did you think? Was that boring?”
“Not at the end when you won,” she says, matter-of-factly.
As he holds his little girl, he turns his gaze to me. “Did I go out in style or what?”
“You sure did,” I say, beaming. “I am so proud of you.”
“Good. Because this is the perfect time to ask you something.”
What on earth does he have to ask me on the field teeming with reporters and teammates and Gatorade and noise and music and…
My hand flies to my mouth.
Harlan has set Abby down and dropped to one knee.
Abby squeals.
The sweaty, game-winning guy of my dreams has a velvet box in his hand, and I’ve no idea where it came from. Emerson? But who cares, because he’s talking.
Loud and clear.
“I love you so much, Katie Madigan. And I planned to ask you this whether we won or lost, because you’re what I want beyond this moment. For all time. For always. I love you madly. Will you marry me tonight?”
I blink, stunned.
Utterly stunned.
“Tonight?” I croak.
Abby cheers. “Say yes, say yes, Katie!”
I laugh, and the sound is chased by sobs, and holy hell, I’m crying.
“Yes, Katie. Tonight. We’re in Vegas. Our friends and family are here. I want you to be my wife, and I want us to be a family, and I don’t want to wait any longer.”
You know what?
He makes the most excellent points.
I fall to my knees, joining him on the grass, and wrap my arms around him. “Yes. I say yes. Let’s do it.”
Abby jumps up and down, and we both pull her in for a hug.
***
Sometime after midnight, we make it to the chapel at The Extravagant with a yawning seven-year-old and the whole crew.
