Page 93 of The Challenger

And speaking of that.

It still boggles my mind how badly Arlo misfired on match point. He served underhand and Chavez ate that cheap shot for dinner. It pissed him off to no end that Arlo would pull a stunt like that and he channeled his anger the way we discussed. Arlo never even came close to touching the winning serve. Blown off the court was more like it. While he wore a look of dejection during the trophy presentation, Chavez dropped jokes during his winner’s speech and endeared the French crowd to him when he attempted, and botched, a few lines of their language. Everywhere I turned today, he was headline news. The first Mexican player to win a Grand Slam since Rafael Osuna. Apparently, we might get invited to Mexico City to meet the President. It’s crazy! And it will only get crazier for him. Winning a Grand Slam is a game changer.

I surf all the new articles written about the match, even though I know every detail, and thirty minutes later, the long night, early morning, and too much alcohol catch up to me. I shut my laptop and put my head down to rest.

A gentle kiss rouses me from a deep sleep. Chavez has slipped soundlessly into the room, and he looks so dapper in his dress shirt and slicked-back hair a la Morgan. The photos snapped of him with the Eiffel Tower in the background and the French Open trophy in his arms will send hearts racing when they hit the internet tomorrow.

“Hi,” I say, propping up on both elbows. The light has changed outside, and I have no idea what time it is. “Did you have fun?”

He sits close to me, the mattress dipping with his weight. “I sure did. But I’m done talking about myself. I’ve said the same things twenty times in both English and Spanish.”

I tip my head to the bedside table. “I bought every newspaper today. For mementos. Oh, and did you see my text?”

His eyes sparkle as he laughs. “That GIF is ridiculous. But I love it.”

“Your mom is going to love your hand on my butt,” I say with a playful roll of my eyes. I can joke around now because the ice has melted between Gloria and me.

Chavez tucks an errant curl behind my ear. “Mama loves you, but not as much as I do.”

“Why are you smiling like a buffoon?” I ask. He has an ear-to-ear grin getting bigger every second. “What have you got up your sleeve?”

“I’m smiling because I’m happy,” he says. “And I don’t have anything up my sleeve. But…” He moves off the bed, and down onto his knees. Or one knee, I should say. “I do have something in my pocket.”

With a grand flourish, he presents a scarlet Cartier box and pops the lid. The glittering mass sends my brain into a complete tailspin. I’ve never seen so many diamonds on a single band. Not this size.

“What!?”

Chavez reaches for my left hand and slides the heavy band onto my ring finger with a gentle push past my knuckle. A perfect fit.

“It’s not what or where or how or why, Miss Flynn,” he says. “The question is,willyou marry me?”

I can feel my face struggling to contain all the emotions coursing through me, and I do the sensible thing and burst into tears. Wet dribbles of happiness fall faster than I can wipe them away, and I can’t believe I’m wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt for such a defining moment. Can’t win them all.

“Oh my God,” I say, blubbering. “Yes, dummy! Of course I will.”

His mouth is an endless pleasure no matter where it falls on my body, and this is not our first kiss, but in many ways, it remains one of my favorites, marking the transition between the old and new me. And he never breaks the kiss, even as he climbs onto the bed to sit beside me. When we do come up for air, I hold up my hand to admire the craftsmanship of what must be six figures of platinum and jewels. I need to call Mom and Dad and my girls. Vandana and June are going to flip out!

“And this…” I pause, frozen with the sudden fear of losing it. But no, that will not happen because I am never taking it off. “It’s stunning.”

“I told them I need a ring that shines as bright as a star. Because you are mycielo,Flynn, and I needed something worthyof shining in your sky.”

Is this why he was late? Ring shopping? Who knows and who cares? He’s here, and that’s all that matters. I plant the sloppiest excuse for a kiss on his mouth.“I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he says, running a hand through my curls. “And you can’t change your mind. You’re committed.”

“If you’re worried, we can consummate this right now.”

He winks back. “I already planned on that. Give me a sec.”

I reach for his wrist, holding him in place.

“The gear’s in the bathroom keener,” he explains with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

I shake my head. “We don’t need it.”

The conversation on when we would try has never happened, and his face is a complete blank, nothing but blinking eyes in the throes of processing.

“Seriously?”he says.

---