Page 67 of The Score We Never Settled

“Common knowledge.”

“Common bullshit.”

“It is.”

“And that would be something you’d know because…”

“Maybe I’ve looked it up before.” She shrugs like it’s nothing, but it’s everything. “So…is this you proposin’?”

This is the shittiest engagement in the history of engagements because there is no ring, no romantic setting, no music, or a nice dinner.

Just a shitty studio apartment, news that’s about to change my life and hers.

The only good part about it.

“Yeah,” I mutter, feeling my heart race in equal parts anticipation and certainty. “Make me the happiest motherfucker in the world and marry me, Layla Jean. It’s always been you. It’s always ever goin’ to be you.”

She bends forward and places the softest and sweetest kiss on my lips. “Then yes, Briggs Kerrigan. I’ll marry you. Because it’s always ever gonna be you, too.”

17

LAYLA

I’m tired of him.

Of the stupid commentary and the way he calls mebaby. How he thinks it’s appropriate andgolden boyof him to approach me, drunk off his ass, like our history wasn’t as fake as his damn feelings for me.

It’s old.

And, frankly, I’m too old for this shit. So, if the news of Briggs being my husband doesn’t stop him from running his mouth and acting like we had this deep, over-the-top puppy love in high school, I’m going to break his other arm.

Fuming and in need of some space from this moron, I hang a right and disappear between two food tents before breaching a small picnic area with families eating.

I stomp through the tables, not bothering to see if I notice anyone, when I reach the band.

For the love of all…

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do, Short Stop.”

Great,

Another moron.

Turning on my heels, I’m ready to give it to him. I’m prepared to tell him to go take a long walk off a short pier and leave me alone when he says something that makes all the words choke and die in my throat.

“Dance with me.”

I stand frozen, heart stilling and blood slowing as I stare up at him.

He’s in a dark gray baseball cap that’s turned backward. His green eyes are calm and full of—oh, no.

I’ve seen that look on him a hundred times.

Or I thought I did.

Admiration.

Love.