Page 138 of Playing Her Game

“I love you,” I say. “I love you more than I know how to explain, and I don’t want another day of my life where I have to wonder when I’ll get to hold you again. I want the ordinary days, too. I want the mornings and the arguments and the ridiculous things you say when you’re half asleep. I want all of it, fancy girl. With you.”

Her fingers tighten around mine.

“You haven’t even let me say I love you,” she whispers, laughing through her tears.

“Say it.”

She shakes her head, smiling at me like I’m impossible. “Daniil.”

“Say it, Anna.”

“I love you, I have since I left Chicago.”

The words hit me so hard I have to close my eyes for a second. When I open them, she’s still looking down at me, her face open and full of feeling.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

She laughs, and a tear slips down her cheek. “I love you.”

“Again, moya lyubov.”

“I love you.”

I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. I want to hear it until I can carry the sound of it inside me for the rest of my life.

“Again,” I whisper.

She bends toward me, her loose hair falling around us, and presses her lips close to my ear.

“I love you,” she whispers. I close my eyes as she says, “I love you, Daniil.” Again, and again, and again, until she’s laughing against my cheek and I’m smiling so hard it hurts, and the whole world has narrowed to her voice and the warmth of her hand in mine.

I turn my face toward hers, keeping her hand against my heart.

“Annaleise Winterfield,” I say, my voice rough with everything I can’t quite get out. “Will you marry me?”

For a heartbeat, she only stares at me.

Then she drops to her knees in front of me, still holding my hand, her cardboard crown tipping dangerously to one side.

“Yes,” she whispers. She laughs, tears spilling freely now. “Yes, Daniil. Of course I’ll marry you.”

I barely manage to get the ring onto her finger before she throws her arms around my neck. I catch her, laughing into her hair, and hold her so tightly I can feel her laughter shaking through both of us.

Behind us, Lucy lets out a triumphant squeal.

“I helped!”

Anna pulls back just enough to look at her, one hand pressed to her ring, the other still curled around my neck.

“You did, sweetheart.”

Lucy plants her hands on her hips, looking deeply satisfied with the entire operation. “I told you I was good at surprises.”

“You certainly are,” I tell her.