“Do you remember…” Sterling begins. “When I said I’d buy this house and rip the porch off? I said I’d bring it with us when we had our own place.”
I smile at the memory. “I remember.”
“I was an idiot.” He laughs nervously. “You can’t buy a front porch.”
No, you can’t. Not unless you’re crazy.
“But…” He nods decisively. “There are other things you can do.”
I cock my head to the side. “Like what?”
“I have something to show you.”
As he reaches behind us and plucks a manila envelope from the railing, the music cuts off inside the house, the raucous noise dying down by decibels. The evening suddenly becoming tranquil.
So strange.
I hadn’t seen the envelope when I sat down earlier, but Sterling is peeling open the seal and tugging out its contents. Lifts out a rectangular, gold-plated plaque.
Hands it to me.
I tilt it so it catches enough of the dim light to read:
IN THIS SPOT, U OF I SHORTSTOP STERLING “ROWDY” WADE (CLASS OF ’18) MET AND FELL IN LOVE WITH SCARLETT REGINA RIPLEY
“What is this?”
Sterling clears his throat. “They’re hanging it out here, next to the front door.”
The plaque is suspended between my hands, the metal shiny and new. Symbolic.
“The guys are going to hang it out here?” I look down at the inscription again, biting down on my bottom lip. My god he’s adorable. “This is seriously the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
I adore him and his sweet, sexy face.
I twist my torso, clasping my hands behind his thick neck, planting my mouth firmly on his. Whisper, “You’re the most handsome man on this earth, and I swear I could eat you up.”
Sterling gently removes my hands from around his neck. Stands. Takes a deep breath, facing me as I rock back and forth on the swing.
“Never have I ever…” Drops to his knee. “Been down on one knee.”
I roll my eyes; what an odd thing to say. “What are you doing on the ground?”
Instead of standing like I expect him to, he inhales a deep, steely breath. When he speaks, it’s raspy. “Scarlett, I love you.”
I nod, frowning. “I love you, too.”
The giant hands that were all over my body this morning, making me moan, are reaching into the pocket of his Diamondbacks team jacket, large fingers holding a black velvet box.
Breathing escapes me.
“Never have I ever been this nervous since the season opener,” he jokes, voice croaking, sounding terrified.
Sterling might be intimidating to most people—an imposing, beautiful ass—but he’s the most romantic soul I’ve ever met.
His head is bowed, breathing unsteady. Blows out a shuddery breath as those mammoth hands shake, cracking open the lid, fingers trembling; a sparkling solitaire diamond ring sits on a bed of satin, twinkling under the dim lights of the porch.
“Never have I ever been engaged to be married.”
My own palm covers my mouth—just like in the movies—my wobbly legs holding the swing steady.
“I loved you from the minute I laid eyes on you, Scarlett. I love you, so I’m asking you here, in front all of these witnesses…” He gestures toward the house, where an entire party full of people have their faces pressed against the glass of the living room window.
Laughter bubbles up inside my stomach.
“Would you rather suffer a lifetime without me or marry me and be my wife?”
I drop down on my knees beside him. “I want to marry you and be your wife.”
When our foreheads press together, Sterling snaps the velvet ring box and lets it fall to the ground, cupping my face. Kissing me senseless on the front porch where we met.
He gasps then says, “Let’s get married right here.”
I pull a face. “Uh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have plenty of time to figure it out.”
“Come on, honey, it would be so fun.”
Yeah—for him and his baseball buddies.
Someone inside bangs on the window, and we look up to see Ben Wilson waving at us. “What did she say?!” he shouts through the glass.
Sterling looks at me, fumbles and feels around on the ground for the ring. Plucks it up and re-opens the box, removing the pretty little ring nestled inside.
Slides it onto my fourth finger.
I turn it this way and that, letting it catch the light as we both admire how perfectly it fits.
He clasps my hand and holds it up for everyone in the house to see. “She said fuck yeah!”
Unruly cheers erupt and the music explodes back on, blasting louder than it was before, booze flowing freely. I watch as someone shakes a gilded champagne bottle, pops the cork, and detonates it over the entire crowd dancing in the center of the room.
Oh jeez.
I eye the scene dubiously. “That floor is going to collapse into the basement.”
“Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t rush inside just yet.”
He’s so very wise.
And so very mine.
Forever.
“We like it better out here anyway,” I point out. “In our spot.”
We lean into each other again, lips touching. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too.”
“Plus, you’re the best lay I’ve ever had.”
THE END