Epilogue
Brooks
I always swore if I found someone like Lindsey, I would do things right. I would do it right all the way.
I had no idea that my best friend would be asking his girl to marry him on the very same weekend I planned to ask mine. And Hunter’s plan has me asking Lindsey’s father, Dale, for his daughter’s hand.
I’ve been pacing in the parking lot of our crappy two-bedroom apartment for an hour waiting for him to get seated at the Texas game where Hunter plans to pop the question.
He flew their parents in, and Lindsey is waiting for Hunter’s mom to call and FaceTime the entire proposal for her to see along with my sisters.
The timing for my call has to be perfect, so when Lindsey’s phone rings and she rushes in from the balcony, my heart starts to pound. I stare at the phone in my palm.
“Come on, Dale. Don’t forget about me.” My hand buzzes with a call from Lindsey’s father.
“Hi!” My breathless answer make him laugh.
“You’d think you’re the one popping the question. What’s up? What has you so frazzled?”
He has to be kidding. A few seconds pass, and I can tell he’s not.
“Well, sir,” I clear my throat, and that seems to help him get it.
“Well, shit. Are both of my girls getting married?”
“What?” Lindsey’s mom says in the distance.
“Hold on, let the boy ask me,” Dale says. “Go on.”
“I was hoping, Mr. Blackwood, that you would give me your blessing to ask your older daughter to be my wife. I promise I will treat her like a queen. And I will protect her with my own life. I love her, sir. And nothing would make me happier than to know you are okay with me doing so.”
I think I’m going to throw up. The few long seconds that pass nearly make me piss my pants, but soon, Dale is chuckling on the line.
“Never thought you’d get the balls to ask,” he teases.
“Oh, ha,” I breathe out a nervous laugh. I rub the back of my neck and glance at the balcony. Lindsey is still inside.
“Now, I have to go. It’s time here in Texas. See you in a few days, yeah?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“It’s Dad,” he corrects. My pulse skips. I don’t know if I can say that word out loud to him yet, so I simply say, “Okay,” instead. His insistence, however, means the world to me.
I pull the ring out of my pocket and pinch it, giving it one more good look before I black out from sheer panic. She has to say yes. She’ll say yes, right? God, I hope she says yes.
The boys come home tonight, and all five us are travelling to Texas for the next two weeks. I’ve been called up for the end of their season, and my agent feels really good about what that means for my chances starting for Texas next year.
It will mean a big move for all of us, and another negotiation with Lindsey’s ex.
Now that he has a baby with his girlfriend, though, he’s been less focused on taking his shortcomings out on Lindsey.
He’s also been less engaged with his boys.
And that pisses me off. I’ve really tried to step up with them, but they still need to feel the love from him.
I know all too well how much it hurts when that support is missing.
Even if we move to Texas for half the year, I think our roots will stay here.
I’ve never really had a place to call home.
Inglewood was . . . Inglewood. I had more than a dozen addresses there, and when I was in Iowa, I called a former drug-pin SUV home for a little while.
I kind of like the idea of saying I’m from Sweetwater.
It feels nice in my chest, like a full breath and a good cup of coffee.
Plus, I know how much Lindsey loved the Quinn house. I think leaving that place hurt almost as much as us breaking up. So when I get my first big payday, that property is the first thing I intend on buying.
Before any of that can happen, though, I need to get one more yes.
I take the stairs two at a time, then head into our apartment and step in behind Lindsey. Holly is taking a nap, and I let her go a little longer than I probably should because I don’t want to take a break in the middle of my proposal to make a diaper change.
Lindsey has her hand over her mouth, an effort to keep her squeals inside as she stares at her phone screen.
“Is it happening?” I whisper, kneeling behind the sofa and nuzzling the crook of her neck. Tiny goose bumps cover her neck and she twitches.
“Shh, yes. It’s happening,” she whispers behind her palm.
“Okay, got it. Lips zipped.”
She hushes me again, and I chuckle. I better not push my luck. Now is not a time to be trifled with. Plus, I have to admit, there’s something pretty sweet about getting to watch your best friend tee up his dream life. As Hunter gets down on one knee, Lindsey gasps and a tear slides down her cheek.
“Don’t cry, baby,” I say against her ear. I slide the side of my thumb along her cheek to wipe it away.
“It’s a happy cry,” she says, no longer needing to hide the fact she’s watching this all unfold. Hunter’s sisters are on the video call, too, and between the three of them, it’s a happy cry fest. I can’t lie, though, if I weren’t so damn nervous, there’s a good chance I’d be tearing up, too.
“Oh, my God, Mom. Thank you for videoing this for us. Did you record it too?” Hunter’s oldest sister asks.
Lindsey glances over her shoulder at me, and I kiss her lips softly.
“How the hell do I know if I recorded it? Is that how livestreaming works?” Hunter’s mom says.
“Mom, it’s a FaceTime, not a livestream,” his other sister explains.
“Same. Thing!” his mom screams.
Lindsey starts to giggle, and we both get comfortable, listening closely while Hunter’s family has a generational technology spat after his proposal. It’s some truly funny shit. But not a woman to be one-upped, Lindsey’s mom has to kick the confusion up a notch.
“Did Brooks ask her yet? Do you know?” she says, just a little too close to Hunter’s mom’s phone.
Lindsey’s eyes widen, and mine flutter closed.
All of this preparation. I was going to do something cute, like hide it in her favorite strawberry cupcakes that I have chilling in the fridge, or maybe put on her favorite song, “Crazy Love,” and ask her to dance.
But that wouldn’t really be us, would it?
This—a blown surprise and scrapped plans in favor of quick and simple. That’s us.
“Will you?” I hold the ring between my thumb and index finger and rest my elbow on back of the couch.
Lindsey’s gaze flits to the pink diamond, then back to my eyes.
If I get one thing right today, it will be picking out the ring of her dreams. She’s only pointed it out a dozen times everywhere it pops up—social media ads, famous influencers on the red carpet, Marvel movie marriage proposals.
“You got the ring,” she says, a tiny smirk playing at her lips.
“I did.” I slip it on her finger, then take her hand in mine and kiss her knuckles as I look up into her eyes.
“You also got the girl,” she says.
My grin spreads like a fire in the wind, and I pull her over the couch so she’s sitting on the floor with me, straddling my lap as I kiss her face—every square inch.
I didn’t just get the girl. I got the whole entire dream. And I am never letting it go.
THE END