It’s always a joy to watch my boyfriend play, but in the VIP luxury lounge, it’s an experience. The champagne flows like water. I have hors d’oeuvres from Grayson's personal chef and a bird’s-eye view of the field. Dark, cherry-stained wood with black accents decorates the room. A bartender mixes drinks for guests, and a man offers a heated towel.

I love coming here.

I take the damp cloth from the server and wipe my hands, stopping to watch as Grayson sprints from the midfield like a rocket, outstripping the other players. He’s a damn viper. When he notices an opportunity, he strikes. I don’t know how he’s able to see three moves ahead, but he told me it’s all gut instinct. He doesn’t have to think about it.

He feigns left with the ball. The keeper dives toward the corner of the net—the wrong one. The room swells with a combined scream as the ball sinks in. Grayson makes a lap around the goal, grinning as the clock strikes zero.

Another win for the Grizzlies.

Smiling, I crack open my animal biology textbook and read the notes I took yesterday. There's an exam on Monday. I need to be prepared. Then the school year will be over, and I’ll have time to enjoy the rest of the summer.

It’s been ten months with Grayson. Almost twelve months of the most amazing relationship I’ve ever had. I started taking classes to become a vet tech. We moved in together. I wake every morning to his smell clinging the sheets. By all accounts, my life is perfect.

I can’t say the same for my brother, who filed for divorce and was traded to a team in Chicago. I haven’t seen him since last summer, and now I let his calls go to voicemail. On Christmas, he sent me a card with only two words: I’m sorry.

I don’t know if I’ll ever speak to him again.

The sting sharpens into a knifepoint. He didn’t grow up into the man I hoped he’d be. The person I admired on TV wasn’t a good person. Coming to grips with that is hard. Grayson tells me one day it won’t hurt so bad, and I think he’s right. Every morning it hurts a little less.

The television booms with the noise from the crowd. Hordes of people scream, waving streamers and blowing horns. Grayson lines up with the opposing team to shake hands, and then he jogs to the side for post-game interviews.

A CNS sports reporter leans in. "Grayson, the World Cup is a few months away. How do you feel about playing Portugal in your first match?"

Sweat streaks down Grayson's cheeks as he speaks into the microphone. "I’m very excited and confident. The team’s in really high spirits."

"And what’s in store for you for the next few weeks?"

A slow grin tiptoes across his face. "Well, I’m hoping to plan a wedding with my girlfriend, Saffie."

"What?" I search the room as blood drains from my head. "He means me, right? He said my name."

Amused faces stare at me, and my attention shifts to the television.

The reporter chuckles. "You’ve asked her to marry you?"

"Not yet," he says, producing a little black box. "Saffie, come here. I need to tell you something."

My hands fly over my mouth, partially muffling a scream. Everyone stares. "Is he crazy? How do I even get down there?"

The attendant who poured my champagne appears at my side, grinning. "This way, ma’am."

I stand, feeling unsteady on my feet as I follow him outside. "He planned this, didn’t he?" Cool air blasts my uncovered limbs as I step into the outdoor arena, which is like a hive of noise. The chanting will not let up, even as players clear the field. I descend metallic steps, numb to the chill. Movement to my left drags my attention to it, and I see my shocked face on the Jumbotron.

Damn. I should’ve put concealer under my eyes.

That’s my most pressing concern as I follow the attendant to the pitch, which roars when I draw closer. I know what I’ll say the moment he asks, but nothing prepares me for the sight of Grayson bending his knee in front of a dozen reporters and opening that black box.

With a hopeful grin, he offers me the ring. "Will you—"

"Yes! Of course."

He stands, throwing his arms around me, kissing the shell of my ear. "I didn’t even get the words out."

I blink back the mist. "Say them if it makes you happy. I know what my answer is."

His lips curve with mischief. "Will you…try anal tonight?"

I jab his chest, halfway between crying and laughing. "Don’t joke."

"Fine. Marry me, Saffie."

"Okay."

His eyes dance with wild happiness before he kisses me. Cheers erupt around us when we break apart, and Grayson seizes my shaking hand to slide a ring on my finger. His thumb wipes away my tears. Thousands of fans hammer their seats, and the stadium bursts with ear-splitting fanfare. Bass from the speakers trembles the ground, traveling up my legs as I cling to Grayson for dear life. "Holy shit."

"You okay?" He laughs, holding me tight. "Maybe I should’ve planned a low-key proposal."

I shake my head, dazzled by the screaming fans. "No, it’s perfect."

I love the noise because it’s for us. A thousand people cheering for my relationship is a high unlike anything I’ve experienced. Delirious joy swells inside me.

My pain is obliterated by the bright light of his promise. The pang of losing my family dims like a white dwarf shrinking in a faraway universe, because there’s only one happiness in this world.

To love and be loved.

Want to know what happens in a few years? Click to get a sneak peek at Grayson and Saffie's life four years later!

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