by Sarina Bowen
The alcove den is all mine, though. It’s the only space she didn’t furnish. “I think it’s been waiting for you,” she said.
That’s our TV room now. And—as Heidi suggested all those months ago—I put in a pull-out couch for when my mom comes to visit.
We have a great life. It could only be made greater if I didn’t have to get on a plane in two hours.
When the coffee is done brewing, I pour a splash of milk into each mug and carry them both into the bedroom. Delilah has to get up soon, too. It’s a weekday, and Becky will turn up for whatever business appointments they’ve got planned.
“Hi, sleepy,” I say, sitting down on the bed. “I made coffee.”
Delilah sits up fast, clutching the sheet to her bosom. “Omigod, is it late?”
“No,” I chuckle at the pillow marks on her face and her wild hair. “Becky isn’t here yet.” I offer her the mug.
She takes it from me. And as I watch, she takes a sip. And then another. Delilah is seeing a therapist. They’re working on aversion therapy. These days, Delilah drinks cups of coffee that either Becky or I bring her. It’s just the two of us for now, and it still isn’t easy. But she does it every day.
Her eyes lift, and she catches me watching her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But now I have to hand this back to you, and not because I’m flunking coffee drinking.”
“Okay?” I take the mug.
“I have a present for you.”
“Oh! I thought I got my present last night.” I give her a sleazy wink, and she laughs.
“But I believe in lots of presents. Hang on.” She leans over, plucking her silk bathrobe off the floor where we tossed it last night. “Drink that coffee and don’t go anywhere.”
She disappears in the bathroom. Water runs, and so I prop myself up against our headboard and relax. My mind wanders to hockey, as it often does. We’re going to play Toronto and Ottawa, before returning home to get ready to face whomever our first round of playoffs competition is. Coach will probably play me for both of those games. I’m still the number two goalie, but I played a third of our games this season. And sportswriters keep praising “Brooklyn’s deep bench of goalie talent,” which always makes my heart go pitter-patter.
The other thing that makes my heart go pitter-patter emerges from our bathroom a minute later, her smooth legs tempting me beneath that silky robe.
“Eyes up here, Ralph,” she says, teasing me.
“Oh, they were headed there, too,” I promise, taking a pointed look at her cleavage. “I don’t know what else you got me for my birthday, but I liked the first present a whole lot. Just saying.”
“Good to know. Since my other presents are a little…” She frowns. “Irregular. Especially the last thing. I’m out on a limb, here.” Now my curiosity is piqued. She sets a wrapped box down on the bed and then sits cross-legged in front of me.
I put a hand onto one smooth knee. “You know I’ll love it. Whatever it is.”
Her smile is nervous. “Open it before I lose my nerve.”
The box doesn’t weigh much. It only takes me a few seconds to tear off the wrapping paper. When I lift off the top, there’s a black T-shirt in my size. I unfold it and find that it says, Kind of a Big Deal. I laugh, of course. “For me?”
“I saw it in a Brooklyn window,” she explains. “And you are a pretty big deal to me, so…” She clears her throat. “I wrote a song with that title. For you. But it’s not finished yet.”
“Can I hear it?”
“Of course.” She hops up and fetches one of her acoustic guitars from the top of her dresser. Then she sits down opposite me and checks the tuning.
Goosebumps rise on my body immediately. I always have this reaction when she plays something for me, and I always will.
Her fingers begin to pluck the strings, picking out a smooth, upbeat rhythm. And my chills only multiply as she starts to sing.
It was a day just like any other day
In a town somewhere far away
I wasn’t looking for everything to change
I didn’t know we’d come all this way
* * *
But you’re kind of a big deal
Ask anyone
It’s the way that I feel
Ask anyone
There’s nothing so real
When you hold me close…
My eyes are wet and I don’t know why. And then the second chorus stops me in my tracks.
But you’re kind of a big deal
Ask anyone
It’s the way that I feel
Ask anyone
There’s nothing so real
Will you marry me…?
* * *
“Really?”
The song ends abruptly as she silences the guitar strings with one hand.
My startled gaze collides with Delilah’s. “You want to get married?”
She swallows. “I really do. And I know I was probably supposed to wait until you asked, but…”
I get up on my knees so fast that they crack, and I lean over and kiss her. “Let’s get married. I didn’t know you wanted to.”
She wraps one arm around me and buries her face in my neck. “I’m sorry. I needed to say it first. So you’d know you didn’t have to hold back.”
“I was holding back.” Christ, I think I’ve been holding back since the first day I saw her.
“After I wrote this, I almost chickened out,” she whispers. “But you’ve been so patient with me. You’re my rock, okay? I needed a big, important way to tell you.”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure you nailed it.” I sit back and look at her, my eyes still wet. “Even if I didn’t let you finish. Set your guitar down for a second, okay? There’s something I need to show you.”
I open the drawer in the bedside table and fish out a box I’ve been keeping there. It’s the kind of little box that’s for only one thing.
“Oh!” She claps a hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe it! You beat me to it?”
“No way. It’s a good thing we’re on the same page. After all this time.”
Now her eyes are damp, too. She takes the box and opens it. “Omigod, Silas!” She looks up and laughs. “You’re amazing.”
The ring inside the box is a cushion-cut two-carat diamond in a classic style. The box is custom. The lid says, in careful embroidered letters, Sparkle On… Your Finger.
“I love it so much!” she says as tears break down her face.
“Will you marry me, too?” I ask. “Make me the happiest guy in Brooklyn?”
“I will,” she says. “Any day of the week.”
“Maybe…” My mind spins. “This summer. Between your tour and training camp. We could take a week on a beach for a honeymoon.”
“Yes!” She’s still holding the box as I pull her into my arms. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither. And I can’t believe I have to get on a plane right now.”
“It totally sucks,” she whispers. “No, it doesn’t. I take it back. I regret nothing today.”
I kiss her temple and sigh.
That’s when the front door of the apartment opens. “Yoo-hoo! I’m here!” Becky calls out. “You kids probably aren’t decent, are you? Happy birthday, Silas!”
“Thank you,” I say in a thick voice, while Delilah wipes her eyes.
Reluctantly, I leave the bed and put on a clean white shirt and a suit for my trip. Delilah pulls herself together, too. We give each other a secretive smile while I collect our coffee cups and get ready to greet the team. “Are you going to tell her?” I mouth.
She holds up her hand to show me the ring sparkling from her finger.
This should be fun.
When I emerge from the bedroom, it isn’t just Becky in the living room. Avivit is here, looking as badass as usual in her black pants and T-shirt. “Morning, sports guy,” she says to me.
“Morning, soldier.” She gives me a fractional smile
. I think she’s part robot.
When Carl Bayer told us that he had a bodyguard for us to meet, I’d expected someone like Mr. Muscles.
“Meet your new bodyguard, Delilah,” the older man had said. “Avivit is ex-special forces in the Israeli military. And since your brand is all about girl power, I thought, why not add some real girl power to your team?”
Avivit and Delilah get along great. And I’m glad Delilah is safe. But Avivit has no time for me. “I’ll bet you know seventeen different ways to kill me,” I’d joked the first time she showed up for work in the morning.
“Eighteen,” she’d said.
But Becky loves me, so at least I’ve got that. “How’s the birthday boy?”
“Spectacular!” I say, because it’s true. I still can’t get my head around it.
Then Delilah comes out of the bedroom. “Morning, Becky. We’re just having the usual Thursday, right? A few calls. A meeting. My new engagement ring.” She holds up her hand.
And Becky freaks. My ears may never be the same. There’s some hugging and screeching and then Becky attacks me, too. Even Avivit smiles.
“This is the best news ever!” Becky cries. “You deserve this. Both of you! When are you getting married?”
“Not sure,” I say cheerfully.
“Where?” Becky tries.
“Don’t know that either,” Delilah adds.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “It’s complicated. But we like it that way.” And Delilah hugs me a little more tightly to tell me she agrees.
Thank you for reading Superfan!
Grab the bonus epilogue at:
SarinaBowen.com/bonus-bruisers
Don’t miss the next book, Sure Shot!
And don’t miss Moonlighter, Eric Bayer’s story!
* * *
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Also by Sarina Bowen
EVERY BOOK IN THE BROOKLYN BRUISERS WORLD:
Rookie Move
Hard Hitter
Pipe Dreams
Brooklynaire
Overnight Sensation
Superfan
Sure Shot
Moonlighter
* * *
TRUE NORTH
Bittersweet
Steadfast
Keepsake
Bountiful
Speakeasy
Fireworks
Heartland
* * *
THE IVY YEARS
The Year We Fell Down #1
The Year We Hid Away #2
The Understatement of the Year #3
The Shameless Hour #4
The Fifteenth Minute #5
Extra Credit #6
* * *
GRAVITY
Coming In From the Cold #1
Falling From the Sky #2
Shooting for the Stars #3
* * *
HELLO GOODBYE
Goodbye Paradise
Hello Forever
* * *
With Tanya Eby
Man Hands
Man Card
Boy Toy
* * *
With Elle Kennedy
GOOD BOY by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
STAY by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
HIM by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
US by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
Top Secret by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy