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As the reporters are all gathering their things and starting to pack up their equipment, Marcus lingers at the podium and raises his hand.

“Before you guys go, I actually have something else I want to say,” he says. “If you don’t mind indulging me for a minute.”

Everybody stops moving, some of them seeming to smell a story in the air. There has been a lot of buzz in recent weeks about other, more prestigious schools around the country courting Marcus, trying to lure him over to their program. Success builds demand. And as one of the most successful college coaches in recent years, there is a demand for him.

But he hasn’t told me about taking any job offers. He hasn’t even seemed to give any of the offers he’s receiving serious consideration. He tells me he’s happy right where he is. So, I am as in the dark about this announcement as everybody else. My stomach turns a somersault inside of me as I brace myself. If he did end up taking another one of those jobs, he would be moving away. I can’t imagine he’d take the job without talking to me about it first.

I let out a small breath and try to quell the churning in my belly. Marcus stands at the podium, giving everybody a chance to get settled again. When silence falls over the room, he gives them all a grateful nod.

“Thanks for the time, guys. I always appreciate the job you all do,” he says. “Tonight, my team is celebrating another title, as am I, but I want to celebrate something else as well.”

The reporters exchange curious glances. Nobody knows exactly where this is going, and there’s a certain tension in the air. The sense that he’s accepted another coaching job seems to be growing among the crowd as everybody sits forward, expectant looks on all their faces. Cameras are recording, and reporters are all holding their recording devices out, anticipating the announcement of his departure.

Marcus turns and looks at me, a small grin quirking the corner of his mouth upward. He steps off the podium and walks over to me. My heart stops dead in my chest when he pauses in front of me and turns to the crowd.

“Tonight, I want to celebrate this incredible woman,” he says. “For the last three years, she has been my rock. She’s been by my side, and she has made me the happiest man on the planet.”

The crowd of reporters all smiles, but the looks of curiosity on their faces grow. Marcus pulls something out of his pocket and drops to a knee. I clap my hands over my mouth, my eyes wider than saucers as he opens the small, black box in his hands. There’s an audible gasp from the crowd around us, and the tension in the air changes and grows thicker.

“Morgan Hill, you make every day better than the last. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he says. “I love you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

The room is silent, the air crackling with tension, and tears spill from the corners of my eyes. As his eyes bore into mine, I nod wildly.

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

His eyes shimmer with tears. A wide smile on his face, Marcus gets to his feet and slips the ring on my finger. The room erupts in cheers and applause as he sweeps me off my feet and spins me around, both of us laughing. He presses his mouth to mine and kisses me deeply, and I can hear the whir and click of cameras going off all around us.

I hold my hand out and admire the ring. “I just have to say, this is better than a championship ring.”

“And I have to say, you make me feel like a winner every day,” he says, wincing. “That was really corny, wasn’t it?”

“Really corny,” I say with a laugh. “But I love you, Mr. Hooper.”

“And I love you, baby girl.”

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

MARCUS

Five Years Later

“So? How are we feeling today?”

Morgan shoots me an exasperated look. “Do you really want to ask me that right now?” She looks at herself in the mirror and frowns. “This suit is horrible, right? This is not the right thing to wear on my first day of filming.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re going to have a wardrobe they want you to wear on set,” I respond. “I don’t think you’re going to be wearing what you roll up in.”

“No?”

I shake my head. “No. And they’ll have people doing your makeup too.”

She puts her hand to her forehead. “Right. You’re right. They told me that,” she says. “I totally forgot. My God, where is my head at today?”

I pull her to me and give her a soft kiss. “Relax. You’re going to be amazing.”

She blows out a long breath. “I’m glad one of us thinks so.”

“Think so? Oh, I think three of us know so,” I say, gesturing to our two kids.