Page 142 of The Thing About My Rival

A tight shot of her hand appears on the jumbotron at the exact moment I slide a black-and-white plastic ring in the shape of a soccer ball onto her finger.

Half the crowd groans. The other half goes wild. Wilcox shrieks with laughter, holds her stomach, and doubles over.

I retrieve the microphone from the ground. “Come on, folks. We all know I’m the last person on earth capable of choosing a ring.”

Wilcox throws her arms around my neck. “This one is perfect,” she says, as I wipe away the tears falling down her face. “For today, anyway.”

I drop my mouth to hers as the whole stadium eruptsagain in cheers, applause, and love for me, Wilcox, and the Boston Commoners.

DREW

The happiness bubbling inside me has had my whole body tingling since the moment Hugo dropped onto one knee.

After he’d made a spectacle of us both on the field, I pretty much floated back up to the owners’ box. I don’t even recall getting here. The only thing I can remember is the sensation of Hugo’s hand in mine, leading the way.

It’s like the world has taken on a soft-focus haze, with everyone and everything glinting with an otherworldly mystical sparkle. None of it feels real, like I wouldn’t be surprised if rainbows started shooting out of my every orifice.

Yet here I am, with Hugo, and a plastic soccer ball ring on my finger. I had no idea it was possible to feel so full of joy and contentment, so complete, and to be looking forward to the future with such pure, untainted positivity.

Despite the unbridled, floaty bliss, it’s still hard to relax into my dad’s hug. But there are definitely signs of him softening since moving out to Cape Cod full time—today, for example, he showed up out of the blue right before the game, bringing one of Suzanna’s delicious lemon tarts for us. So, even if things are improving by only micro baby steps, they are heading in the right direction, and I’m grateful for that.

The instant we break out of our slightly awkward clinch, he turns to Hugo and gives him a handshake that he’s obviously much more at ease with.

“Take care of her.” He pats my fiancé on the shoulder. “You’ve got a good one there.”

Well, I never. That might be the biggest compliment my dad has ever paid me. Kind of makes me sound like a fish he just caught, but I’ll take it.

Then he walks back to the other side of the owners’ box to resume his conversation with Leo about something earnest.

Hugo looks at me, eyes wide, and mouthswow.

I nod in acknowledgment. “That’s almost as big a shock as you proposing.”

Of course, my father’s words are good to hear. But they’re not something I’m hunting for anymore, not something I crave. If he wants to tell me I’ve done well, that’s great, and I will welcome it, but I’m not wasting another second of my life chasing that approval. I have all the reassurance and love I need in the shape of the handsome, brilliant man resting his hotter-than-hell butt against the back of a chair right in front of me.

When we got back up here after our spectacle on the field, the Fab Four immediately called for an impromptu celebration. Amelia somehow rustled up champagne—and by “champagne,” I mean some room temperature fizzy wine that had been sitting behind cleaning products in a storeroom for God knows how many years before she stumbled on it by accident while looking for a mop the other day.

I guess it’s apt that we’re celebrating with something found in a janitor’s closet, since that’s kind of where Hugo and I found each other in the first place.

There’s a tug on my arm. “Let’s see it then,” Mona says, reaching for my left hand.

“It wouldn’t have been Hugo if he hadn’t gotten me aring like this, would it?” I wiggle my finger at the Oldies gathered around me.

“I hope you end up with a diamond as big as that.” Joyce taps the soccer ball sitting on my finger.

“Always best to let the woman choose,” Winston says, his words heavy with the weight of experience.

I turn at the touch of a hand on my shoulder. It’s Ramon, the last of the players still here. “Gotta go, boss.”

I pull him into a hug. “Thank you for coming up. I know you must not have felt like it.”

“You deserve every happiness in the world,” he says quietly. “Coach Powers isn’t the only one you’ve made a better person, you know.”

My heart swells at the love that everyone’s shown us today. “Thank you. That means the world.”

“See you Monday.” He gives everyone a wave as he heads out.

“Also a cutie,” Joyce says, peering over the rim of her champagne flute and watching him leave.

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