I gasp, at a complete loss for words except for “Holy shit!” My hands are shaking and my tears have started to fall again.

Devin chuckles before swallowing hard. “That a yes?”

I nod, speechless, and he slides the ring onto my trembling finger.

Devin stands, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me in the air while I giggle into his neck, inhaling the mouth-watering scent of citrus, gas and man.

He sets me down on weak knees. I shake my head, still in shock. I went from brokenhearted to engaged in the length of a single song. It’s fast, but it’s right. I stare up into those soulful black eyes and smile. “See, I told you, Big Man. This is so happening.”

Epilogue

Epilogue

Jessie

Seven years later

“Robbie, no!” I shout at my trouble-seeking two-year-old, who’s reaching for a screwdriver, eager to poke his own eye out. Dark hair and darker eyes, he’s the spitting image of his dad. Good thing too, because he’s got so much energy I’d have abandoned him at a Chuck E. Cheese if he weren’t so damn cute. Rob, the man he was named after, snatches the tool away in the nick of time, causing a torrential downpour from my little one’s eyes.

Hearing my exasperated sigh, Grandpa Rob sweeps up the dramatic toddler. “How about we play with a carburetor? A nice, safe, no-pointy-edges carburetor?” Robbie giggles and grabs for the salt-and-pepper push-broom on Rob’s lip. The old man lets out a warm laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Thank you,” I mouth, reminding myself to petition for sainthood for him later.

Mandy and Becs sneak into the shop, giggling like schoolgirls.

“Everything all set?” I ask them.

“The sign’s up, balloons and everything,” Mandy muses.

“Balloons?” I ask with a laugh.

“I know, he’s going to hate them!” Becs adds with sinister little-sister amusement.

Mandy tips her head towards the shop. “You going to go get the man of the hour?”

I nod and peer through the window to see Devin and Avery, thick as thieves as usual. Avery looks like me, blonde hair and bright green eyes. But she is most definitely her father’s daughter. She’s quiet and contemplative, with more patience than I’ll ever have. At five, she’s more at home under the hood of a car than she is on a playground. I used to dress her in skirts and pretty frilly shirts, but gave up when they all came back torn to shreds or covered in grease. I’d be mad, except it’s just too adorable. Mandy made a tiny pair of overalls for Avery and now she wipes her hands on her pants, just like her daddy.