Page 144 of Big D!ck Energy

She was radiant. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen and she was walking toward me.

The first tear slid down my cheek, and I didn't bother to wipe it away. Let them see. Let everyone see what this woman did to me.

“Damn,” Matt whispered. “You're crying.”

“Shut up.” My voice came out thick, barely functional.

Davina's father guided her down the aisle. Her gaze never left mine. She was crying too, silent tears tracking down her carefully made-up face, probably ruining whatever work the makeup team had done. She didn't seem to care. Neither did I.

The music lowered as they reached the front, and her father paused, turning to face me with an expression that held both warning and welcome.

“Take care of her,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “Again. Still. Always.”

“Always,” I promised.

He lifted Davina's hand from his arm and placed it in mine. The touch of her fingers sent electricity through my entire body.

And then he stepped back, and she was here.

Right here.

My wife, in her some day dress, standing in front of me in the dappled sunlight.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Hi.”

“You planned all this.”

“I had help.”

“Dallas.” Her chin wobbled. “I can't believe you… You're insane.”

“Probably.” I squeezed her hand. “But I need you to hold that thought.”

Confusion flickered across her face. “What?”

I didn't answer. Instead, I turned to the officiant and gave him a small nod.

Then I dropped to one knee, and a collective gasp rippled through the guests as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ring box I'd been carrying for three months.

I opened it now.

The four-carat princess-cut diamond caught the sunlight and exploded into a thousand points of fire. It was flanked by smaller diamonds along a platinum band, elegant and bold and exactly what I'd envisioned when I'd spent hours at the jeweler trying to find something that could possibly match the woman I loved.

“Dallas,” Davina breathed, her free hand flying to her mouth. “What are you… we're already…”

“I know.” I looked up at her, not caring that tears were streaming down my face, not caring that I was kneeling in the dirt in a suit, not caring about anything except the woman standing in front of me. “I know we're already married. I know we have rings. I know that legally, officially, on paper, you're already my wife.”

“Then what…”

“But I never asked you.” The words caught in my throat, and I had to pause, had to breathe through the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “That night in Vegas, I never got down on one knee. I never looked into your eyes and asked you to choose me. I never gave you the chance to say yes when you knew what you were agreeing to.”

Her tears were falling freely now, dripping off her chin.

“So I'm asking now.” I held up the ring, my hand trembling. “Davina. My wife. My best friend. The woman who somehow saw something worth loving in an arrogant wrestler with too much ego and not enough sense. Will you choose me? Will you let me choose you? Will you marry me, for real this time, in front of everyone who matters, with both of us completely sober and completely certain?”

She laughed through her tears, that beautiful, broken sound I'd first fallen in love with.