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“I think Dex actually liked the stunt we pulled on him at that charity event.”

“Yeah, because he saw you pay out the ass for a night with him.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Touché.”

We’re quiet a beat as we exit the building, and once we’re outside on the sidewalk heading toward the restaurant, she says, “You said you were hoping we could talk. Was there something you needed to say?”

“Yes.” I wrap my hand over hers and stop walking. “I feel awful that this whole thing started as a bet and that West goaded us into getting married. But I told him things changed for me a long, long time ago. I started to fall for you immediately, Ivy, and the bet didn’t matter anymore because I was finally cultivating the sort of relationship I never thought was meant for me.”

Her eyes have been focused on our joined hands, but when I pause, she glances up at me, her eyes glistening.

“I said it in desperation when you left, and it was wrong of me to do that. But the words aren’t any less true. I was too scared to say them before, but I need you to know that I’m not just falling for you. I’m there. I love you so goddamn much that sometimes it hurts.”

She chokes out a sob. “I love you, too. But you hurt me.”

“I know I did, and I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to do to make it up to you.”

“Being here is a good start,” she murmurs.

“I miss you, and I want to live a life with you as my wife. I want this to be real, and I don’t want you to leave me. I want you back in my house, back in my bed, giving me the chance to make up for my own stupidity. I want to create our own legacy together. I always thought the legacy was winning the Cup, but it’s not. It’s you, and it’s me, and it’s what we create out of this love we have, whether it’s a tequila brand or kids or a social media management company or all of that. I need you, Ivy, and that’s a hard thing for someone like me to admit when it means I’m giving up control. But you own me. Every part of me. And I can’t be me without you.”

The tears that were glistening in her eyes spill over. “You own me, too, Cash. Hearing you say these things…it means a lot. You’re being vulnerable, and that’s the sort of emotional honesty I need. I just think it’s going to take time for me to fully trust you again.”

“Fair enough. And I’ll work to prove to you that you can.” I press my lips to hers. “I have something for you.”

Her brows push together as I reach into my pocket.

With shaking hands, I pull out the ring she left on the dresser at my place. “I’d like you to have this back,” I say, and she lets me slide it onto her finger.

And then I get down onto my knee and reach into my pocket again. “And I’d also like you to have this back.” I wanted to get her a real diamond, but somehow this little silver band means more. We can shop for a diamond together later. “I love you, Ivy. Will you be my wife…again?”

She brushes a tear away with her other hand as I slip the ring on.

I rise to a stand as I pull her into my arms, and we hear some clapping around us. Before I sink into her and press my lips to hers, she whispers, “It’s a tentative yes. I need more time, but I’d like to try.”

I know I’m on thin ice…no pun intended. But I also know that we are meant for each other, so we’re going to figure out a way to make this work. No matter what.

We resume our walk, and I feel my phone vibrate with a text as I hold my wife’s hand. I pull it out to find a text from West.

West: So was it worth missing practice? Did you get the girl?

I nudge Ivy and show her the text, and she laughs. I open my camera and snap a selfie of the two of us, and I send it as my reply.

West: Great, so now you’re all emotionally intelligent and shit?

We both laugh when I show her the reply.

Maybe I am.

We see a jewelry store on our walk, and it feels like fate. I duck in before she can stop me, and I peruse the diamonds there.

It’s worth a shot.

I spot a platinum band with a five-carat oval diamond set in a hidden halo of diamonds that you can only see from the side, and it’s so simple and extravagant at the same time…just like the woman I want to give it to. Simple and extravagant. Effortless and gorgeous.

I point to it, and it’s fate. It’s the perfect size.

“Oh, Cash, I’m not ready for all this,” she says in a soft protest.