Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“They do. I’m glad they’re here.” We walk out into the garage, and he kisses me soundly. “I left something for you. It’s hanging in your closet.”
“Babe, have you seen my closet? That will be like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Trust me, you’ll find it.” With another quick kiss, he climbs in his truck and pulls out of the garage. I hit the button for the door, and head back inside to find my gift and to get ready.
Walking into the closet, my eyes scan, and I stop when I see a Defenders jersey. Pulling it off the hanger, I take a look. It’s just like the one I already own, that is until I flip it to the back. Instead of REEVES on the back, it says MRS. REEVES. At the top, in small cursive letters, the word Future is added. I’m all smiles as I pick up my phone and dial his number.
“Miss me already?”
“I found my present.”
“And?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little over the top?” I ask.
“Nope. You are my future wife, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“I want the whole damn world to know it, Reese. I’ll be looking for you in the stands, the media is going to be looking for you after my comment that’s been on every damn sports station. I want them to know who you are. I want them to know that you’re mine.”
How do I say no to that? “Well, all right then.”
He laughs. “Love you. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you too. Have a great game.”
“You’re going to be there, you know I will,” he replies, and the line goes dead.
Sliding my Defenders jersey that I already had on off, I put on the new one. I glance in the mirror at my reflection. I’m wearing jeans that are ripped in the knee, tennis shoes, and my jersey. My hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and I plan on sporting my Cooper Reeves Defenders hat. I look like any other fan who’s going to be in that stadium today. Everything except for the five-carat diamond ring adorning my left hand, and the jersey claiming me as his.
Grabbing my hat from where I left it on the nightstand, I pull it on and snap a picture front and back using the mirror and send them to Cooper.
Cooper: My girl.
Smiling like the fool in love that I am, I slide my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and head downstairs to find our parents.
“And the Defenders take home a win!” The announcer’s voice echoes throughout the stadium.
“They’re kicking off this season with a bang,” his co-anchor agrees.
“That they are. Fans, stick around and keep your eyes on the jumbotron screens at either side of the stadium for interviews from your favorite players,” they inform the crowd.
“Oh, he hates this part,” I tell our parents. Cooper got us amazing seats, right on the fifty-yard line. We had our choice of one of the private booths, but all five of us said we wanted to be in the crowd in the action.
“Excuse me.” I turn to look over my shoulder. “I saw your jersey,” a woman says. “My son is a huge fan of Cooper’s. Would it be possible to get your autograph?” the woman asks sweetly.
“Uh, sure.” I smile. Glancing over at our parents, I shrug and turn to face them. She hands me a Defenders T-shirt.
“Anywhere is fine,” she says, handing me a black Sharpie. Turning the shirt over in my hand, I see Cooper’s name scrawled across the number. “He signed it before the game,” the mom explains.
With shaking hands, I poise the Sharpie to sign my name when an idea hits. Instead of my full name, I sign Future Mrs. Reeves, and Cooper’s number underneath. I hand the shirt to the little boy. “Here you go, buddy.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Reeves,” he says, smiling wide.
My heart flutters in my chest. I’m going to be Mrs. Reeves. My grin is infectious as I look over at our parents, who are also smiling as they watch me. I can feel my face heat, but I own in. I’m happy. My heart is happy. Cooper and I have fought a long hard fight to be where we are, and I’m going to enjoy every damn minute of it.
“Cooper, great game out there today.” A female reporter stops him.
His smiling, sweaty face appears on the screen. “Thanks.”
“Two touchdowns, on a three-touchdown winning game, how does it feel?”
“It feels good to bring home the first win of the regular season. My teammates and I have worked hard for this, and we all showed up to play.”
“Rumor has it you got engaged in the off-season,” she comments.
Again, I can feel my face heat. It feels as though the eyes of all those around me are focused on me and not Cooper. I don’t dare look. Instead, I keep a smile plastered on my face, red cheeks and all, and keep my attention on the screen where my man is surely about to embarrass me even more.