Page 79 of His Jersey

The sound of a camera clicking comes from nearby, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Jack.

He says, “Come here.”

My hands fly to my mouth. I need that fainting couch again. “Is this really happening?”

“This is really happening.”

But is it real?

The pearl set in the white gold band and surrounded by diamonds looks as real as they come.

This is extravagant, but I’m guessing Jack staged this so his father, Aston, and new coach would take the bait and believe us. He said himself that he can throw money at anything.

But what about everything else he said?

I guess I was the one who got hooked.

“Ella, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

I stammer, “I’m going to turn into a pumpkin.”

He wears an amused half-smile. “If you lost a glass slipper, I’d never stop searching until I found you. Please be my wife.”

I should know better, but I cannot help myself, and I say yes with my whole heart.

Bark Wahlburger barks as if already pronouncing us husband and wife.

The corners of Jack’s mouth lift and his eyes sparkle. I cup his cheeks and plaster his mouth with kisses. He rises to his feet and then slides the ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit.

He’d told Aston and his father that we had forgotten the ring at the resort. I can’t sort out stories from the truth. But I don’t want to. Not yet.

My lips press to his, sending a fluttery hum of excitement rushing through me, lighting me up from head to toe. It seems that he rather likes this response, given his pulse throbbing against mine as our chests push together.

The pace turns frenzied until we’re both out of breath. Then we slow, our mouths exploring cheeks, ears, and necks. Our noses brush and we both smile, then laugh. Our foreheads press together. Jack’s hands caress my jaw, keeping us focused on just kisses.

There is so much to this man and I want every inch, always. I never want to leave his strong and generous embrace, but I know that I’ll have to, eventually.

It’s just the story of my life.

30

JACK

That wasthe first and only time I have ever and will ever propose marriage to a woman. The smile that reached Ella’s eyes felt pretty real to me and it hasn’t quit.

After our pit stop at the island, we’re now officially on our way to Nebraska. I have a game in a week, so I’m going to be busy, but I want Ella to feel secure, knowing that I’m all hers.

After the excitement, she dozes off on the airplane. A nagging, annoying question repeatedly returns. Is Ella all the others, just after my status and bank account?

She probed about money and it’s impossible for me not to be cautious about the gold-digging Astons of the world. I don’t want to think she’s like that, but she’s been through a rough patch.

Yet she had no idea who I was, isn’t on social media, and thinking all the way back to when we first officially the night my Jeep got stuck, she wanted to pay me back for her cheeseburger.

Not a single one of the women I’ve ever datedoffered to pay for her meal. It’s a given that I foot the bill. Not that I’d have it any other way.

If Ella has an agenda, she could’ve come up with better ways to get a payout, namely having “an accident” at the resort or blackmailing me.

I understand why she’d be uncertain. However, it’s hard to shake the belief I’ve held for so long—the one that helped me keep women at a comfortable distance. But I tell myself Ella is different. She doesn’t seem to crave me and somehow, that makes me want her all the more. Or perhaps it’s that with her, I don’t feel used. Rather, I want to give her—the sun, the moon, a yacht.

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