Page 94 of Beautifully Devoted

The crease between my boyfriend’s brows melts away as his soft brown eyes find mine, and the adoration I see there nearly undoes me. “If you get all romantic on me now, I’m gonna cry harder than your mom.”

“Don’t you dare. If you start shedding tears, I will, and I have no intention of blubbering on TV. Besides, that wasn’t romantic, it was math.” Keep it together, Jagger.

“My bad.” Cam gives me a bashful smile, the one only I ever get to see since it’s his romantic face. “Obviously, one plus one equals one.”

“Exactly,” I agree, since I’m not at all confident I can keep my tears at bay. Not if I let myself think about how much I love the man sitting next to me. And since he loves me back, he won’t make me say things that could get my eyes leaking. He just gives my hand another squeeze as we watch the room fill.

Once the draft starts, the tension in the room gets heavier, though we do our best to ignore it by chatting about mindless stuff like what’s happening back home. We talk about which of our high school friends have moved away, moved home, gotten married. Shit like that. It doesn’t completely erase the fact that there are cameras hovering around the room, pointed in our direction every few minutes, but it helps, and I’m grateful to have our parents here to keep the conversation going.

Still, each time a pick is about to be announced, my limbs seize, my breathing gets choppy, and only Cam’s hand in mine keeps me from totally deflating when someone else’s table erupts in cheers. It’s a frustrating roller coaster of highs and lows that repeats over and over again, leaving me anxious and exhausted.

Why did I choose to be here in person instead of on my comfy couch at home?

Nearly an hour and a half later, as I’m starting to panic that I’m not as desirable as I thought I was, I hear my name. But I hear it like an echo, so faint, I’m not sure it’s real. It’s not until I feel Cam’s arms around my neck, and my face is pressed against his chest.

“You did it, Kitcat! You made it! You’re in the NFL!”

“I…wha?” I pull back to look at him, blinking back tears of my own when I see his streaming down his face. “Who?” I gasp.

“San Diego. You’re going to California!”

Before I can process those words, his full lips are on mine, stealing what little breath I have left. “I love you, Kitcat,” he whispers into my mouth. “You did it.”

It’s Cam’s dad who finally helps me to my feet so he and our moms can embrace us, but after the hugs, I’m still too stunned to get my feet to move. Until I feel Cam’s hands cradling my face, and his soulful eyes find mine.

“They’re waiting, Kitcat.”

“I know. I… You’re coming with me, right?” I grip his wrists in both my hands, hanging on for dear life.

“I can’t go on stage with you, but I’ll be right here.” His thumb brushes over my jaw.

“No. I mean, you’re with me forever, right?” Deep down, I know he is, but this is a big change–I’ll probably be on a plane in the next day or so–and I need to hear it again. Before I take this step toward my future. Our future.

“I’m always with you, Kitcat. Always.”

“Marry me, then? Tonight.”

“What?” He blinks so fast I almost can’t tell that his pupils are blown wide.

“We’re in Vegas,” I lift my shoulder in explanation. “Marry me.”

“Get your jersey first.” He kisses me then tips his head toward the waiting attendant. “Then, hell yeah, I’ll marry you.”

I give him a hard, fast kiss and spin around, weaving through the tables to get to the stage and wondering why it feels like someone else is moving my body. Maybe that’s because my image fills the Sphere as I walk on stage, so it’s like I’m watching myself as I move.

I’m a proud guy, but damn. That’s a lot of me plastered all over.

At the podium, the Commissioner shakes my hand, sticks a hat on my head and gives me a jersey to hold up. Then we pose for pictures that I can only hope I’m smiling for since the flashes and reels from my games on the ceiling bombard my vision.

I barely have time to register the size of the crowd before I’m whisked to the wings and handed a phone so I can say hi to my new coach. He welcomes me to the team, that much I’m sure of, but beyond that, I don’t know what’s said before the phone is snatched away.

A part of me resents how fast this is all happening—I want to savor this moment—but a bigger part of me wants to get the fuck back to my boyfriend so I can marry him.

Holy fuck, I’m getting married!

My feet retrace my earlier steps, taking me back to our table, but before I can get there I’m intercepted by a reporter whose dead set on getting me to put feelings I can’t even begin to process into words. I do my best to answer a few questions about how excited I am to meet my new team, how I hope to be a valuable contribution, the same stuff pretty much everyone says. But when she asks what it means to be drafted, my mind goes blank. Totally short circuits. Because while getting drafted has been my dream for years, it’s not my ultimate dream. Cam is.

This should be the happiest day of my life…and it will be. After I lock Cam down for good.

“Can I go?” I blurt.

She blinks at me, blue eyes wide and mouth agape as she tries to recover from the curve ball I just threw her. “You have somewhere else to be?”

“Yeah, actually.” A dopey smile overtakes my face as my eyes find Cam’s across the room. “I’ve gotta get married.”

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