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I whisper, “I love you.”
“I can’t believe you did this.”
“Kiss me, baby.”
Our mouths crash together, unashamed of the passion we’re showing in front of thousands of people. When we come out of the kiss, people in the front row are crying, and they don’t know the half of it. I pull my microphone to my lips.
“It’s New Year’s Eve, the last day of the year. And earlier this morning, Lettie and I had a conversation about whether the first or last day of the year is the best.” I peck Lettie on the cheek. “She thinks the first day of the year is the best. I like finishing the year strong with a Stallion win.” They yell my name. “Do you think we can change Lettie’s mind?”
They cheer, jump, and clap. I see my teammates standing to the right. I had asked them to be here.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yeah,” they scream.
Reaching into the pocket of my leather jacket, I pull out a velvet box, and Lettie collapses on the floor without me saying a word, so I get on my knees in front of her, the band continues playing a soft version of the same song in the background.
“Lettie, from frogs to songs, video games to movies, from science fair to valedictorian, from equestrian to basketball, through all of our mistakes, I have never stopped loving you. Never did I think that I had wasted sixteen years of my life. I can’t imagine a life without Lettie Scott in it. Not just as a friend, but a best friend because that’s what man and wife should be… best friends. I want you to be my wife, but will you let me be your husband? The man who will kiss your tears away and fill your heart with so much love, you might bust.”
I take the ring out. My hands shake because it’s cold. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m scared she’s not ready for this.
Lettie’s not crying. This isn’t going as expected.
Then she rises enough to kiss me. Instead, she picks her microphone from the stage and says, “Yes, Dane Greathouse, you can be my husband.” She giggles. “I love you.”
With microphones in hand, I untie her wool coat and slip it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the stage. I touch the hem of my jersey and spin her around to show the crowd that she’s always been mine. Always worn my shirts. We just didn’t know what wearing my jersey meant. As Hagan told me, it means she’s mine for life.
The audience claps and cheers.
I slide the ring on her finger. “So, Lettie, what’s better: the last day of the year or the first?” I ask with my chest puffed out and so fucking happy.
The crowd laughs and chants, “Last. Last.”
Lettie’s eyes crinkle around the edges as she smiles, staring at me. “Today, the last day of the year is the best. But ask me tomorrow, and I’ll say the first day. Ask me the second day, and my answer will be the second of January. Every day with you will be my next favorite.”
“Thanks, baby.” My arm is wrapped around her shoulder and hers around my waist. “What do you say we fit in one more song before the big blue ball drops?”
“That’s what they’re paying us for.”
After we finish the last song, the crowd is pumped. As we begin the countdown, ten, nine, eight, I feel a presence behind me: my mom, her grandparents, Hagan and Adalee, Logan and Harper, Reed and Brooke, Flynn and Presley, Devon, and Hannah and even Jasper and his wife, who recently got back together, joins us on the stage. Seven, six, five, Grans hugs me, and Mom does the same to Lettie. Four, three, two, one. “Happy New Year!” everyone screams.
I assume everyone found someone to kiss, but I wasn’t looking at anyone but my fiancée.
Then our friends converge on us, offering congratulations.
Together, the crowd sings the lyrics to the traditional New Year’s song.
“Good night and Happy New Year,” Lettie and I say in unison.
Lettie
“First day. First day is best,” I pant out. Dane is making me feel things I didn’t think possible. I’m in multi-sensory overload.
“Agreed,” he growls in my ears, sending an earthquake shuddering throughout my body. The deep seductive tone of his voice combined with him touching me tenderly while pounding me relentlessly has me flying into the unknown.
Any doubts I ever had about us being made for each other disintegrates with every thrust. With every bead of sweat that falls from his face to mine. My legs stiffen, and my fingers dig into his sweat-peppered skin. Slick and wet just like me.
“Come, baby,”
