Page 113 of Pitcher Perfect

“If the Bearcats win, I’ll go topless in the apartment for the whole night.”

His tongue tied itself together. How had this woman evercome to him for advice on seducing a man? If she so much as batted her eyelashes, he rolled over and panted for belly rubs, just like one of their dogs. “You’d... do that? You’d please do that?”

She laughed, the sound full and happy. “And if team baseball wins?”

“I go without pants?”

“You do that anyway.” Skylar tilted her head back, swaying side to side in his arms. “I was thinking more... I’ll let you eat lasagna on the couch.”

Robbie blinked. “Wait, so I win, either way?”

She gasped. “I must love you or something.” Before he could question his luck, Elton—one member of the crowd standing behind Skylar—signaled Robbie.

Showtime.

He turned his wife around in his arms, pulling her back against his chest so he could watch her profile while she reacted to over a dozen of their friends wearing eye black, holding softball mitts, and sporting brunette ponytail wigs, all of them doing their best impression of Skylar on the pitching mound. “Happy anniversary,” they yelled, loud enough to be heard on Long Island. Skylar looked up at him, stunned, tears of mirth forming in her eyes, but instead of asking him how long he’d been planning the anniversary surprise, she took Robbie by the elbow and turned him around...

Where he encountered the rest of the game’s attendees standing behind him with false red beards and mouthpieces.

“Happy anniversary!”

Robbie and Skylar fell sideways into the grass, laughing until their sides were on fire, and only when their amusement died down did they look at each other and mouth the wordsI love you. Words that would be echoed every day after that for the rest of their lives.