7. Epilogue 1 – Dakota
Ihold my breath as Brendan comes set on the mound, one out standing between him and a no-hitter.
Nobody around me has sat down in several minutes.
The entire stadium is on its feet, forty thousand people watching as Brendan stares toward home plate with a level of concentration I’ve rarely seen from him.
I’ve watched him pitch through bad innings, tight games, and the pressure of October, but tonight he looks almost unnervingly calm.
I glance at the scoreboard behind left field. Zero hits. Two outs in the ninth.
The batter steps into the box, and I clasp my hands together in front of me as Brendan delivers the first pitch. Strike one sends a roar through the stadium. The second misses outside, then the batter fouls off the next one, leaving Brendan one strike away.
I barely breathe as he throws again.
The batter swings, sending a hard ground ball toward shortstop. For one heartbreaking second, it looks as though it might sneak through, but the shortstop reaches it, gathers the ball cleanly, and fires across the diamond.
The first baseman catches it.
The stadium erupts.
I scream along with everyone else as Brendan’s teammates pour out of the dugout. He barely gets a chance to turn around before they reach him, surrounding him in a crush of bodies and pounding his shoulders while the crowd chants his name.
My eyes sting with emotion as I watch him disappear beneath his teammates.
Six months ago, I saw Brendan standing in a nearly empty clubhouse after the worst loss of his season, trying to figure out what to do with himself.
Tonight, he’s in the middle of a packed stadium after throwing the best game of his career.
The past six months of our relationship have gone almost as quickly.
One date quickly became multiple, and then we both lost count. By Christmas, I had a drawer at Brendan’s apartment and a toothbrush in his bathroom. By February, he had enough clothes at my place that I accused him of moving in without telling me, although I still cleared out half a closet for him.
Technically, we still maintain two homes. In reality, we sleep wherever we’re already together.
At work, we’ve tried our best to keep things professional.
I treat Brendan the same way I treat every other player, and he never expects special treatment from me.
That hasn’t stopped him from finding opportunities to flirt whenever nobody important is listening.
Last week, he told me his hydration plan would be much easier to follow if I personally supervised him in the shower.
I told him to drink his electrolytes.
He kissed me anyway, and I didn’t object.
The Titans are off to a good start this season, and Brendan has been pitching well from his first appearance. Still, nobody expected this tonight.
The celebration on the field keeps going. Brendan disappears behind several teammates, then reappears long enough for someone else to grab him. By the time he finally manages to break away, his cap is crooked and his grin is wider than I’ve ever seen it.
Then he looks toward me. His expression changes. He starts walking in my direction.
I beam at him as he reaches the edge of the field, assuming he’s coming over for a quick hug before someone drags him into an interview. Instead, Brendan reaches for my hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he helps me over the low barrier.
“Come here.”
“Brendan, you’re supposed to be celebrating.”
His hand closes securely around mine as my feet hit the grass. “I am.”
That answer should warn me. Instead, I’m distracted by the fact that we’re standing together on the field while the stadium is still roaring around us. Brendan keeps hold of my hand as he leads me a few yards away from the dugout, and only then do I notice that his teammates aren’t following.
They’re watching.
Several of them are grinning.
One has his phone pointed directly at us.
“Why is everyone looking at us?” I ask.
Brendan doesn’t answer. He reaches toward the inside of his waistband instead, and my confusion only lasts one more second.
Then I see the ring between his fingers. My entire body goes still.
“Oh my God.”
Brendan laughs as he drops to one knee in front of me.
For a few seconds, all I can do is stare. He’s still in full uniform, his hair damp from the game, sweat darkening the collar of his jersey. He just threw nine innings without allowing a hit, and apparently he did it while carrying an engagement ring somewhere inside his pants.
“You had that on you the whole game?” I ask.
His grin widens. “Yeah.”
“You really pitched a no-hitter with an engagement ring tucked into your uniform?”
“Dakota.” Brendan reaches and takes my hand. “Are you going to let me propose to you or not?”
A laugh escapes me, immediately followed by tears. I nod and cover my mouth with my free hand.
He looks up at me, and the teasing leaves his face.
“I had a better speech planned,” he says, his thumb moving over my fingers. “But I can’t remember half of it right now, so I’m going with the part that matters.” His voice stays steady even as his expression softens. “I’m so fucking in love with you. I have been for a long time.”
I laugh through the tears, and Brendan smiles before continuing.
“I love waking up with you. I love coming home to you. I love that half my clothes are at your place and half your stuff is at mine, even though you still insist we haven’t technically moved in together.” He squeezes my hand. “I don’t care what apartment we’re in. I just want you there.”
Brendan lifts the ring between us. “Marry me, Dakota.”
“Yes.”
The word comes out without me having to think about it for even a fraction of a second.
“Yes,” I say again as tears spill down my cheeks. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Brendan gets to his feet so quickly that I barely see him slide the ring onto my finger. Then his arms are around me, lifting me just enough that my toes leave the grass as he kisses me.
The stadium gets even louder.
I hear his teammates yelling somewhere behind us, and a moment later fireworks begin going off above the outfield.
When he finally lowers me back to the ground, he looks at me with hope in his eyes. “How soon can we get married?”
I blink at him. “You proposed less than thirty seconds ago.”
“Yeah.” He glances toward the dugout. “My next day off is Thursday.”
I scoff. “We’re not getting married this Thursday.”
“What about the following Monday?”
“You have a game.”
“I can work around it.”
I put both hands on his face and kiss him before he can start trying to reorganize the Titans’ schedule around our wedding. When I pull away, his hands remain at my waist, and the look on his face tells me he’s completely serious about marrying me as soon as possible.
“Ask me again tomorrow,” I tell him. “We can start talking actual dates.”
Brendan considers that. “Technically, tomorrow starts at midnight, right?”
I laugh and kiss him again while another firework bursts overhead.