Page 23 of Car Wash
"You're finished when I say you're finished," he says with a smile on his face as he erases the distance between us.
His hands come up to cup my face, his thumb tracing circles on my cheekbone. I run my fingers against his scratchy beard. I am so in love.
“I don’t ever want you to finish,” he says softly. “I like having you here with me too much for that.”
My heart swells in my chest and I lean into his touch, feeling electricity spark between us like never before.
He takes a deep breath and kneels down in front of me.
“Will you marry me?” he asks, his voice raw with emotion. He pulls a small box out of his jacket pocket and opens it to reveal a huge diamond ring, and it's like the world slips out from under me. I lose my balance. I have to put my hand on his shoulder to keep myself from falling. He's so in tune with me, reaching out to grab my waist and hold me steady. “Will you let me love you and take care of you for the rest of our lives?”
Tears pinch at the corners of my eyes as I look into his beautiful face.
"Yes," I whisper, my voice breaking through with joyous tears. "Yes, I will!"
He stands up, taking me in his arms and kissing away my tears.
"I'm so happy," he murmurs into my hair. "I love you more than anything in the world, and I want to make sure you know that.”
My heart is overflowing with happiness as I kiss him back with everything I have.
Epilogue
John — Three Months Later
It’s a perfect California afternoon.
We’re coasting along the highway with the top down, wind in our hair, sun warming our skin, and the scent of salt and eucalyptus hanging in the air like summer itself. The engine hums beneath us. One hand is on the wheel, the other resting over her thigh—possessive and casual, like I have every right to keep her within arm’s reach. And I do. After everything we’ve built together, after all the years and everything we’ve made…she’s mine. Every last inch of her.
Her sundress flutters in the wind. It’s white, short, with thin straps that expose her soft, sunkissed shoulders. I catch her smiling to herself, chin tipped into the breeze. Her hair’s longer now, messier, and even more beautiful when it tangles in the wind. I could watch her forever.
She leans over and presses her lips to my shoulder. “You have sunscreen on, right?”
“Babe,” I smirk. “You covered me yourself this morning.”
“Mmm. That’s right.” She runs her hand over my chest. “And I think I missed a spot. I’ll have to fix that later.”
“Can’t wait,” I say, voice low, already half-hard just from the way her hand lingers.
We turn onto the private drive that leads to the house. Home. The muscle car roars as we climb the hill, and when we crest the top, the estate sprawls out below like something from a dream. Spanish tile, clean stucco lines, curved archways. Palm trees line the drive. The ocean glints blue on the horizon.
“Still doesn’t feel real,” she murmurs.
“It’s real,” I say. “You made it real.”
“You made it real.”
She smiles, brushing her fingers over mine on the gear shift. “All it took was a little solar polymer and a whole lot of love.”
The tech captures and stores rooftop energy ten times more efficiently than standard panels. Now it’s on homes, schools, hospitals — even the Vatican put in an order.
She doesn’t respond, just leans in closer. I slide my hand farther up her thigh.
“You know what I was thinking about all day at that car show?” I ask as we pull into the garage.
She turns to me, amused. “The supercharged turbo engine on the Shelby Cobra?”
“Wrong.” I park the car and kill the engine. “I was thinking about you spread-eagle on the hood of that ‘69 GTO. Tiny bikini. Body all slicked up. Legs wide open for me.”
