The pulse in the stadium was palpable.

There was one minute left in the NFC Championship match. The Eagles were playing the Dallas Cowboys, and the winner of that went on to the Super Bowl.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, nervous as hell. I glanced up at the clock for the hundredth time that minute. The Eagles were winning by a field goal, and they had the ball on the thirty-yard line, trying to keep possession in order to run the game clock out.

Owen was on the field as usual. He had scored twice this game, the most important scores to keep the Eagles in the game.

He’d had an incredible season. After his rocky start, Coach gave him his starting position back, and he worked hard every day to earn it. He went from a rookie with an injury problem to one of the top running backs in the entire league.

It was amazing watching him grow. He took everything he did seriously. He worked harder than I could have imagined, sometimes staying late after practice to watch more game tape.

We saw each other as much as possible. It quickly became obvious that we couldn’t keep our relationship a secret, so I voluntarily gave up my assignment with him in order to pursue the relationship. I was reassigned to the kicker, a smaller but still important role, and someone else was assigned Owen.

I missed those therapy sessions with him. During that time together, we had fallen in love, deeply and insanely in love. I’d always cherish those moments, even though they were over.

Still, we managed to see each other all the time. I’d be lying if I pretended like we never disappeared into a broom closet almost every day to do unspeakably dirty things to each other.

That was the kind of man he was. Owen was insatiable in everything he did, and he made me a better person because of it. He made me want to work harder at everything I did.

Out on the field, Owen got the handoff. I held my breath, staring intently as he bashed into the line, breaking free. He managed to pick up five yards, getting tackled just short of the first down.

My heart was hammering in my chest, the same way it had been when Owen first told me that the mafia was done with him. I had been sure that they were going to try to kill him, but they hadn’t. In fact, after that night, we never heard a single word from Tony or the mafia ever again. Some of the guys on the team suddenly weren’t interested in being friends with Owen, including Raylon, but that didn’t matter to him.

He was playing it clean, and I respected him so much for it.

It would have been easier to stay involved with the mafia. They could have helped him in ways he probably didn’t even realize. But it wasn’t the way he wanted to do things, and nothing would change Owen’s mind once he made it up.

The team lined up for their next and final play. If Owen couldn’t get another two yards, then they would turn it over and give the Cowboys a chance to tie the game.

Owen took the snap. He pushed up against the line. The defenders surged, their powerful bodies trying to grab Owen, trying to tear him down.

He moved forward, his legs churning, pushing against the pile of men. He was a beautiful beast, a monster on the field, crushing and destructive. He was an angel of death come to take what was his.

He dove forward. The ref blew the whistle dead.

Everyone held their breath.

The ref signaled for the first down, and the stadium went insane.

That was it. The Eagles were going to the Super Bowl, and there was nothing stopping them now. All they had to do was take a knee, and then it would be over.

As time ran out, I kept thinking about everything that had happened. I went from hating that man to loving him with every ounce of my being. I couldn’t imagine living without him, and I never would. I was his, for as long as he wanted me to be.

We had come through adversity together. There was going to be more in the future, and we’d get through that, too. Nothing was perfect, but perfection could come from hard work and dedication.

He worked me hard. I was dedicated to him.

We spend most nights together. After practice, he would send the car over and I’d stay with him, letting him do whatever he wanted to me for as long as he wanted to do it. He made me feel things I had never imagined.

Sometimes we did workouts to help with his strength. When he ached, I rubbed him down and made him feel better. When I was stressed, he took off my clothes and made me feel right.

That was all I needed.

The stadium exploded again when the clock wound down. People spilled out onto the field as the guys shook hands, and the media began to swarm them. I stood off to the side, smiling, feeling blessed and amazed by everything that had happened and would happen.

We were going to the Super Bowl. We were going to the most important, biggest sporting event in the whole world, and it was all because of Owen.

He was going to win it for us. There was no doubt in my mind.

As I stood there, I suddenly spotted him. Reporters were hounding him, but he ignored them all and walked right toward me. I smiled and laughed as he threw his arms around me, lifting me off the ground. I kissed his sweaty mouth and loved the salty taste.

“Taylor,” he said.

“What?”

“I was thinking about waiting to ask you this, but I can’t.” He put me down and took my hands.

“What are you doing?”

He dropped down to one knee.

“Owen?” I asked. There was a huge crowd around us. Cameras were running and pictures were going off. He reached down into his sock and pulled out a small, black velvet bag. He opened it and took out a ring.

My heart nearly stopped. I covered my mouth. “Owen?”

“Marry me,” he said. “I want you. Marry me.”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes. Of course.” He slid the ring onto my finger, and the crowd began to cheer. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me hard.

The reporters all tried to get an interview with him, but he waved them all away.

“Later,” he yelled. “I want a second with my damn fiancée.” He scooped me up and we walked off into the locker room together.

“You had that with you the whole time?” I asked him.

“I’ve had it with me at all times for the last month.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve known since the second we met.” He pressed me up against the wall of the hallway and kissed me.

“I knew, too,” I said.

“Liar.” He grinned. “You hated me.”

“I still do. Asshole.” I hit his chest and smiled. The light reflected off the absurdly large diamond on my finger, and I knew that this was what was supposed to happen.

I was Owen’s. I was going to be his wife, and I was going to have his babies. I was going to have a lifetime of him, days and nights and minutes and hours of him, moments of him. Owen waking, Owen showering, Owen laughing, Owen slowly stripping my clothes off and kissing my skin.

That was all there was for me and all there ever needed to be.