Page 35 of Put a Rink on It

Or until we’re ready to “break up.”

The thought sours my stomach.

“I know this place. We’re at your lake in Minnesota.” Despite the apathy in her speech, her expression shines with joy. “But why?”

My financial advisor advised using the house as a rental for now. The day I listed it on Airbnb, someone rented it for a few months, so the driver maneuvers to my old neighbors’ house, parking in front of their lawn. I catch sight of Cordelia Kocak—my secret weapon in helping me set this plan in motion—in the front window, who gives me two thumbs up.

The driver opens the back door for Marina, who climbs out, perplexed by what’s going on. I follow, my heart pounding in my chest.

Wiping my hand on my pant leg, I entwine her hand in mine and lead her down the driveway to the back of the property.

The moment we breach the backyard, Marina gasps, her feet ceasing their movement.

“Nero,” she breathes out. “What’s all this?”

Time to come clean.

“It won’t be exactly identical to how you described it, but hopefully it’s close enough.”

“You’re going through a lot of trouble for this. For me. To make it look real. Why?”

“Asking you to do this for me is a lot. You’re sacrificing a lot for a mistake I made. You deserve a proper engagement.” I rub her wrist and start us moving toward the water’s edge. Right on time, the sun descends into the water, the moon ready to take its place.

“How’s this going to work without the ring?”

I close my fingers of my free hand around the box in my pocket, happy she didn’t figure it out. When we’re close enough to the water, I halt and drop to one knee. Fishing the box out of my coat pocket, I flip it open.

This gasp is louder, especially against the quiet night. Even the wildlife is hushed.

“We left it there to be fitted,” Marina says, finding her voice. “How?”

“We made you think we were leaving it there to be fitted, but I needed it for this.”

Her eyes scan our surroundings.

The pathway of real tea lights leading to the frozen lake.

Dozens of peonies dotting the snow covering the ground.

The music playing low in the background.

Twinkle lights creating a canopy of dazzle.

I hold her gaze, hoping to remember what it is I planned to say. The moment is more nerve-racking than I imagined, and I don’t want to mess it up. Even if it’s a formality for us. To the rest of the world, it’s not.

My finger rubs circles on her wrist. “Marina Alyse Keeley, when we first met, I never imagined we’d ever end up here. Yet, here is where we belong. Despite the circumstances leading us here, there’s no one I’d rather be down on one knee for. No one I’d rather spend my free time with. No one I’d rather do life with. And now you don’t have to be alone.” I pause, taking stock of my emotions but also checking in with Marina.

Her expression has softened into a more poignant one, the surprise from moments ago vanished. Crowned by the setting sun, she’s more gorgeous and glowing, my heart can’t take it. If I’m not careful, my authentic emotions will leak through. Except, that’s what should be part of this proposal—my eternal love for her.

“Every day, my love for you grows. Some days it doesn’t seem possible, but every morning, my love expands, and I hope it never stops. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

A tear slips from her eye, and her head bobs ever so slightly. A twinge. Had I looked away, I would have missed it. “Yes, I want to have your last name and be Mrs. Nero Champion. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Even though I knew they were coming, her words ignite something in my chest, a sensation equal to that of winning the Cup, no matter how crazy it sounds.

I forget about giving her the ring, instead slipping it into my pocket, push to my feet, gather her in my arms, lifting her. Her echoes peal out into the evening, squeals of elation and joy.

And love.