Superfan (Brooklyn #3)(88)
“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.