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The drunken man-whore version of Alex that I first met is nothing like the man standing in front of me, stuffing his face with a turkey sandwich. I take a seat on a stool at the kitchen island and watch him eat, leaning my elbows on the counter
He shoves the last of it into his mouth and chugs half of a bottle of water before he pushes my Tiffany box across the marble to me. “Bring that into the bedroom,” he commands.
“Yes, sir,” I say, saluting him. “Anything else?”
He laughs, and the smile that comes next reaches up to his eyes, having a mirroring effect on me. Then, he strolls around to my side of the island and places his hand on my back, sliding it down to my hip. “Come to bed with me.”
I am so exhausted from all the sex we’ve already had today that I doubt I can go another round. I snatch the water from his hand and drink the remainder as I slide off the stool, holding on to the Tiffany box.
If he needs more, he will have to settle for a blow job at this point because my legs are wobbly and feel like Jell-O. But I have no problem with wearing the necklace if that will make him happy. I throw the bottle into the recycle bin and follow Alex into my bedroom that feels more like our bedroom at this point. Alex still keeps the apartment next door even though he spends every second of his free time and nights with me.
When we reach the bed, I sit down on the edge, and he kneels in front of me, holding on to my thighs. Then, he takes the box from my hand and flips open the lid.
Gasping for air, I fan myself with one hand as Alex takes the other and plants a soft kiss on my skin. Instead of my whistle, a huge diamond ring is in its place, sparkling in the dim light provided by the lamp next to us.
“Charlotte Elizabeth Coachman, you changed my life the day you pulled me out of my apartment and made me live with you.” He smiles, his hand shaking as he holds on to the diamond. “And
, as much as I didn’t want to clean up my act, after one night with you, I knew you were worth it. You are the reason I’ve stayed sober this long and the reason why the team is on track for the playoffs. Because of you, I am a better man. I love you so much, baby.”
“I love you, too, Alex.” I lean in to kiss him, and his tongue glides across my lips and into my mouth.
“You know, I almost screwed this up by asking you to get the box earlier. I’m glad you hardly ever listen to me because, when I looked up at you, naked and beautiful and mine, all I could think about was getting this ring on your finger and making you my wife.”
As I’m overwhelmed with so much love and joy, a single tear slides down my cheek.
Alex wipes it away with his thumb and holds the ring up in front of me. “Charlotte, will you be my wingwoman, now and forever?”
“I think I love you more than basketball,” I whisper as I hold out my finger for him to slip on the ring.
This relationship is so weird and dysfunctional to people on the outside, but it works for us. We bonded through our love of sports and troubled pasts, and those things are what have kept us together.
He has the band halfway up my finger when he stops and peeks up at me from under his brows. “What do you mean, you think you love me more?”
“I’m joking, Parker. Don’t get your boxers in a bunch.”
“You’d better be.” He smirks, and I help him slide the ring the rest of the way, holding on to his hand. “Because you already know I love you more than hockey.”
“You know sports talk wouldn’t work on most girls.”
“Because you’re better than most girls. You’re my girl.”
“Hand me my cell phone. I need to call Jamie and tell him the news.”
“He already knows. Who do you think I asked for permission?”
“What?” I am stunned. “You actually asked Jamie if you could marry me?”
He nods. “Of course I did. He’s known you longer than anyone. I assume he will give you away at our wedding. Unless you are planning to ask Mickey, whom I also asked for permission.”
“How do you think Jamie would feel about being my maid of honor?” The idea makes both of us laugh hysterically. “Or would you call him my man of honor?”
Alex crawls into bed with me, both of us still laughing. I roll over and lay my head on his chest, and he gets comfortable as he hugs me against his side.
“Would we call him a bridesman?”
I shudder at the thought of calling him any of those names. “Poor Jamie,” I choke out with tears in my eyes. “He’s going to kill me. Both of them sound kind of awful, but I guess man of honor is better than bridesman.” My face hurts from smiling so wide.
“Thank you,” Alex whispers. “I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I appreciate you.”
