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“I know.”
“It can't.”
“Also know that.”
More laughter ripples through the stadium.
“But it did buy a very nice ring.”
“Mitchell!”
I open the box. The diamond catches the stadium lights.
Her eyes widen.
“Holy shit.”
“That was approximately my reaction too.”
She's laughing and crying now. So am I, apparently.
Fuck it.
“Layla Hawthorne, you are the only person I've ever met who makes me want things I can't buy.”
Her smile disappears.
Not because she's unhappy.
Because she understands.
“I want mornings with you.”
Her chin trembles.
“Arguments.”
“Plenty of those.”
The crowd laughs.
“I want you in my house until it stops being my house and becomes ours.”
A tear slips down her cheek.
“I want you beside me when the Rovers win and when they lose.”
The men behind me object loudly. I ignore them.
“I want to annoy you when we're eighty.”
“You'll make it.”
“I intend to.”
“And mostly?”
I tighten my grip on her hand.
