Page 163 of The Wingman

By the end of the week, when he takes a knee in the park under the trees with their autumn leaves, I don’t even stop walking. He jogs after me, laughing as I roll my eyes and hide a grin.

“Are you nervous I’ll say no?” I ask one morning as he washes my hair in the shower, massaging conditioner into my scalp and melting my brain. “Is that why you’re torturing me like this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll probably say yes.”

“Probably?” Hayden grins down at me, glancing at my chest as water runs down my skin. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Two can play at this game.”

Finally, near the end of September, Hayden and I walk through our favorite park in the cool autumn sun. We approach the bench we always sit on, and his warm hand slips around mine, tugging me toward it.

“Let’s sit,” he says.

I plop down on the bench. Hayden doesn’t sit, though. Hayden reaches into his pocket. My pulse skips, but this isn’t the first time he’s tried to fool me.

“Ha ha.” My smile is indulgent. “Reaching into the pocket now? I see you’re leveling up.” I squint around the park. “Hmm. Where’s the photographer hiding, huh?”

Hayden grins. “About a hundred feet away.”

“Very funny.”

He sinks to one knee and my confidence falters. The way he’s grinning at me, it makes my breath catch.

“You’re really taking this joke far today,” I whisper, holding his eyes. I think mine are the size of saucers as my heart pounds and my stomach flips over with excitement.

He tilts another grin at me. “Not a joke today.”

I’m smiling, nodding, sucking in a deep breath. “Is this finally happening? You’re putting me out of my misery?”

He laughs. “Yep. Are you ready?”

Always giving me the choice. I hold his gaze, certain, and nod.

His expression softens and his eyes warm as he takes myhand. “Darcy Andersen, woman of my dreams, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation, smiling. “I’d be lucky to.”

“You haven’t even seen the ring.”

“I don’t need to.”

I memorize this moment—the way the sun feels on my skin, the sound of the birds chirping and the kids playing in the park, the breeze lifting Hayden’s hair, and the way his eyes are blue like the sky. The feel of my hand in his.

“I’m sure, Hayden, and nothing can change my mind.”

He arches an eyebrow and cracks the ring box open.

My jaw drops. “Holy.” I stare at the sparkling gemstone, the palest pink, surrounded by a scattering of tiny white stones. It looks like something out of a fairy tale, like a prop fromThe Northern Sword.

And it’s going to be mine. I’ll get to look at it every single day and be reminded of Hayden.

“You like it?”

Speechless, I nod, and he smiles wider. I’m not really a jewelry girl, but Hayden’s slowly changing that.

“They’re all lab-grown diamonds, with recycled white gold for the band.”

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