The Mechanic

-Chapter Thirty-One-

Location: Olympia, Washington, US

Lottie smiles at her laptop screen, propping a palm under her chin as she sighs contentedly.

A proposal from the mechanic accepted by the painter girl. It's all as it should be, in her mind, anyway. Neither of them are perfect, they will fight sometimes, they won't see eye to eye about every little thing that they come across. But they love each other, and they truly care what happens to the other in a way that is as lasting as the return of the sun every morning on the horizon.

And that, that is lasting.

Lottie closes her laptop and leans back, tucking both arms behind her head. It's late. It's so beautifully late, and the warm, spring air is blowing through her half-open kitchen windows.

"Paul."

He twitches, brow creasing, and sniffs. But he doesn't open his eyes.

He's been asleep for hours.

"Boss man. It's like one a.m. You need to go home." She pats his shoulder softly, studying his sleeping face. "Come on, dude."

He blinks once, his entire face crumpling into a grimace. "I need my beauty sleep."

She chuckles, nudging him with her fist. "I haven't heard that one before. That doesn't mean that you don't have to go home, though."

"But I shouldn't drive in this state. I'd fall asleep, and then you'd be a widowed fiancée." His voice trails off into a sleepy groan, and she sighs, rolling her eyes laughingly.

"Sure. Mmhm. So you just expect me to let you sleep here? Even though it would be completely scandalous?"

"Who would care?" He peers up at her, tired eyes squinted behind long eyelashes.

"No one would care but me. Except Renee. She would care. And she would never leave me alone about it." She raises both eyebrows at him.

"Who would know?"

"I would know. You would know."

"I wouldn't care. And you love me enough to let me sleep on your couch." He smiles mischievously, eyes closed. "Right?"

She sighs exaggeratedly. "Just this once." But she's smiling inside. She can't stop smiling. Not with him, not with Femi and Paris. Not with life and the way it's going right now.

Beautiful.

"Paul?"

"Hm?"

"Do you want to hear something cool?"

He shrugs, half of his face hidden in a throw pillow and the other half kind of loose and dozing. That half curves into a lazy smile.

"Femi and Paris are engaged, too." She can't keep the smile out of her voice. "They're getting married on the twelfth of June."

His breath is soft and even into the pillow he has his face buried in. "Two months?"

"Yep," she whispers.

"Let's get married on the twelfth, too, then."

She chuckles softly. "That means that we'll have to tell our parents soon. Don't want to shock their systems."

He turns his face for just a moment to smile at her. "I'm pretty sure that anything we tell them will shock their systems. 'Hey, we're going out to pizza.' 'We decided to move her cubicle closer to my office.' 'We are getting married.'" He shrugs. "I'm pretty sure all of those would cause quite a stir. They're not flexible people."

"True."

"So. Tell them tomorrow?"

She sighs, sliding her computer onto the coffee table from her lap. "Sure. Why not. I mean, we'll have to tell them that we're getting married eventually, right?" She nudges him, grinning.

"Mmhm."

Thoughtful, she nestles further back into the couch, considering all of this, and all of the rest, and everything. There are so many things to consider, so many things going on. She's getting married, her characters are getting married. Her husband-to-be is falling asleep on her couch, and she finds her own eyes growing droopy.

Both of them are experiencing an unwillingness to leave the couch. Him to go home, and her to go to her own bed.

But oh well. It's late, and that justifies laziness, right?

Paul reaches out and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.

She releases a sigh of contentment, blinking. "Do you remember when you first told me that you liked me?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment. "I never officially did, did I?"

"I don't know," she whispers. "I'm trying to figure it out."

Because he didn't, did he? She can't remember him ever telling her that he liked her. One minute they were just friends, and two months later they were dating. Neither of them said so, it just... happened. And it has been happening so every since.

They're both so passive in the way their lives move on without them. It's a miracle that they're engaged now.

Paul yawns. "I'm pretty sure I didn't."

"Yeah, I don't think so, either." She chuckles. "Which is kind of funny."

It takes him nearly a minute to answer her. He's falling asleep. "Well... I didn't ever tell you, but I liked you."

"I figured."

"Still do."

She smiles, sighing a laugh. "I should hope so. You accepted my proposal, after all. You had better like me."

Silence. Breathing. The warmth of his body against hers. The way her head won't let her mouth forget to smile.

She curls closer to him, closing her eyes.

"You're my favorite," he whispers out of the blue.

Her heart crashes against her rib cage, but her mind is quiet, happy, perfectly at peace. His fingers trail over her wrist and her heartbeat scatters all the more. She glances over at his sleepy face, memorizing the softness in his brow and jaw. The curl of his slightly-smiling mouth.

She smiles to match his, reaching over to turn the lamp off. "You're my favorite, too."

» And they all lived happily ever after. «

» THE END «