Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
For a second, I feel the horrifying prick of tears behind my eyes—until a knock on the glass pulls my attention away from the Jumbotron. Dallas pulls off his gloves and makes a heart with his hands.
Ash slaps his shoulder and tells him to get his ass on the ice.
The Jumbotron catches it all.
I can’t help it; I smile. Yes, he’s a pain in my ass, but he also just reminded me people would kill to be me. Everyone thinks Dallas Bright is mine.
The players do their best to keep the puck away from Dallas during the last period, and the celebrities win the game by a single goal, which is how we always intend it to be, even if this time Dallas was single-handedly trying to make it otherwise.
At the end of the game, I lace up and take the ice, flanked by both teams, so I can thank everyone for being here. Vander Zee isn’t much for speeches. We always end the charity games with a stuffie toss, which goes to the local children’s hospital.
Just as the crowd has finished tossing the stuffed animals they brought onto the ice for the cleaners to gather in huge bag-lined bins, Dallas skates over.
I lower the mic and give him a look, which the entire arena can see. “What are you doing? Get back with the rest of your teammates.”
“I just need the mic for a sec.”
I don’t like the look on his face one bit. I try to hide the mic behind my back, but I’m on skates and not a professional player with cat-like reflexes. Dallas nabs it and settles a hand on my hip to steady me.
“Seriously, Dallas, whatever you’re thinking, you should stop now. Clowns are coming for you,” I threaten.
“Don’t worry, honey. I think you’ll like this,” he says before bringing the mic to his mouth. Sweat trickles down his cheek. His hair is wet at the temples, and his face is red with exertion. “Let’s all give the love of my life a round of applause for putting together another incredible celebrity charity game!”
The crowd goes wild.
“I didn’t do it by myself,” I mutter.
“While she’s quick to remind everyone she has a team of people helping her, I think it goes without saying that Wilhelmina is the glue behind that team. And she means the absolute world to me.” He turns around, still gripping the microphone in one hand. But I notice the other is balled into a fist.
He drops to one knee in front of me, and the entire arena sucks in a collective gasp.
It takes every ounce of restraint not to reach out and throttle him.
“Get up,” I whisper through clenched teeth and a tight smile.
This is not happening. He is not doing this in front of an entire arena. Whatever this is. At least we’re past the televised part. I hope we’re past the televised part…
“Wilhelmina Georgia Reddi-Grinst, you are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You inspire me every day to be a better man, and I know I’m forever a work in progress, but I want to be your work in progress. For the rest of our lives. There is nothing in the world I want more—not even another chance to hold the Cup—"
The crowd giggles, and a bunch of people cheer.
“Stop this now, Dallas. Clowns. Clowns forever,” I threaten through the most extreme smile I can plaster on my face. It’s one thing for me to lie to everyone I love about being his girlfriend, but if he’s about to do what I think he is...the lies are about to get infinitely bigger.
“Ten years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life not chasing after you. Be my person, Wilhelmina. Be my forever. Will you marry me?” He flips open the box he’s had inside his fist.
Sitting on the black velvet cushion is the most beautiful blue diamond nestled amidst a halo of white diamonds. As far as engagement rings go, this one is exceedingly gorgeous. And I am so incredibly pissed off that Dallas, of all people, is presenting me with something so out-of-this-world beautiful in front of all of these people.
Especially because none of this is real. And the hole he’s just dug for us has gotten so much deeper.
Dallas drops the mic. “Say yes, Wills. No one gets to fuck with you. We’re going to rule. You and me. Be my badass queen.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. I’m suddenly on the verge of tears. I’m angry. I’m sad. I have no idea what’s going on.
“They don’t get to win,” he whispers. “Not now. Not ever. Let’s show them how it’s really done.”
I fight back the tears and nod. However misguided, his intentions aren’t evil. Or at least they don’t seem to be.
He brings the microphone to his lips. “You gotta say the words, honey.”