Epilogue
BAILEY
And dance with me,he did. Every chance he got for the next year. I had to hand it to him. Once Jamie got the whole commitment thing down, he became a pro. We stayed together through our senior year, the following summer, and into our freshman year at the small university where Jamie accepted a full-ride scholarship to play football.
That advice he took from Connor paid off. Rather than go to a big school and ride the bench for four years, Jamie played two years at the Division 2 school before gaining the attention of a ranked Division 1 school two states away. We both transferred, and he started every game our senior year.
“Just calm down,” I ordered as I tried to pry my cold, dead fingers out of his grasp.
“Calm down,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Do you realize where we are, Bales? The NFL Draft. That’s where we are. The freaking NFL Draft.”
“I know, baby, but unless you want your big day ruined by a trip to the emergency room because you’ve permanently damaged my fingers, you better just calm down.”
Jamie’s grip loosened infinitesimally. “I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous.”
We sat at a table on the main floor. The first round had already come and gone, but Jamie’s agent was convinced he’d go in the second round. There had been a lot of media coverage after Connor got draftedthe year before, and then Jamie came along after graduating from the same high school. Reporters had interviewed Coach Reno and several friends and family members, including JJ Coleman, who also played in the NFL, and Ethan Russell, who’d been drafted by a team in the Canadian Football League. That was a lot of professional athletes to come out of our small high school in such a short amount of time.
“Dude, just chill. You’re making me nervous.” Dallin rolled his eyes without looking up from his phone. He textedRylee Jacks, his long-time girlfriend, who planned to meet us for dinner after we finished here. Dallin wouldn’t be playing professional ball, but he’d landed a sweet job as an athletic trainer at a large sports medicine clinic near our hometown. He started next week, but he’d been following Jamie and me around for the last two weeks. It felt just like old times.
“Everything’s gonna be just fine, you’ll see.” Jamie’s mom sat on his other side in her wheelchair. Her fiancé, a man she’d met at a grief support group, smiled encouragingly as he held her hand, his fingers looking just as purple as mine.
And then, the most wonderful thing happened: the commissioner called Jamie’s name.
“Ohmigosh. Ohmigosh!” We all stood. Dallin and I smashed Jamie in a hug for the ages. “You did it, baby. You did it.”
“Come on, Jamie. You gotta go up there, man.” Jamie’s agent broke up our group hug and herded Jamie to the podium.
Tears welled in my eyes as I watched him climb those steps, buttoning the front of his new tailored suit jacket. He looked incredible. My best friend. My love. My quarterback next door. I couldn’t believe it.
Dallin took Jamie’s seat beside me and let me squeeze the life out of his fingers while Jamie stood on the stage and posed, holding a jersey with his name embroidered on the back.
After what seemed a split second, they ushered Jamie off-stage, and his agent, holding my elbow, led me to him in a special room backstage where he would talk to the media. I waited until he caught my eye. When he did, he stopped mid-sentence and strode purposefully to my side. The woman interviewing him was so stunned she stood with her mouth gaping.
“Jamie, what are you doing?” I was so worried he would get in trouble I could hardly hug him back. It didn’t matter because he pulled away.
“I promised myself I would do thistoday, right now. If I got drafted, this was the very next thing I would do.” He wasn’t making any sense. I focused on him, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his mom and Dallin and everyone we’d come with standing in the wings.
Jamie dropped to one knee in front of me.
“Oh, Jamie,” I breathed.
The reporter rushed to our side, her camera nearly in our faces.
“Bales, I’ve loved you my whole life. And despite my many flaws, I think you love me, too—”
“I do,” I rushed to reassure him, much to our audience’s amusement.
Jamie smiled. “I’m unbelievably glad to hear that. Bailey, you are the only woman I ever want to hold; that I ever want to be by my side. The only woman I ever want to kiss for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”
He held out a black velvet box. In its center rested a round diamond solitaire. It was stunning, but not as stunning as the man holding it.
“Yes,” I nodded as tears rolled down my cheeks. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Grinning as wide as I’d ever seen him, Jamie rose to his feet and picked me up around my waist, letting out a loud whoop! The tv lady and her camera caught it all on film, and I had a feeling we’d be seeing Jamie’s proposal tonight on all the sports channels.
“I love you, Bales.”
I could have answered, but I kissed him breathless instead.
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