The first kiss was awkward.
Coulter’s nose bumped hers.
Adeline laughed against his mouth.
He muttered something about not having practiced that part.
The second kiss went better.
They were married five weeks later.
Not because they were rushing.
Because neither saw much value in waiting for a ceremony to become expensive.
The wedding took place inside Briggs Auto Repair.
Eleanor Pierce brought flowers from her garden.
Mason jars became centerpieces.
Gavin Ross served as witness and complained that nobody warned him he needed a suit.
Mae cried before Adeline even walked through the bay.
Eli wore a tie with tiny spark plugs on it.
Coulter wore a dark suit he had not used since Marianne’s funeral.
That detail nearly stopped him from putting it on.
Adeline found him alone in the office.
“You okay?”
He looked at himself in the mirror.
“I wore this last time I buried my wife.”
Adeline’s throat tightened.
“You can change.”
“No.”
He touched the lapel.
“Clothes don’t get to own memories.”
She walked closer.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Then he looked at her.
“I think Marianne would be furious if I turned today into another funeral.”
Adeline smiled.
“From what you’ve told me, she’d be furious about a lot of things.”
“Correct.”
The old ring remained hanging from the wrench.
Coulter did not take it down.
He did something else instead.
Before the ceremony, he touched it once.
Then whispered:
“I’m trying.”
No one heard except Adeline.
She pretended she had not.
Their wedding had twenty-nine people.
No elaborate vows.
No expensive caterer.
The diner provided trays of food.
A local teenager played guitar.
The garage floor had been scrubbed until the concrete almost looked new.
White lights hung from rafters.
The three open service bays stood empty behind the chairs.
When the officiant asked Coulter to speak, he looked at Adeline.
“I spent years thinking loyalty meant keeping everything the way it was.”
“The shop.”
“The house.”
“The ring.”
“Me.”
He paused.
“Then you walked in and moved every piece of paper I owned.”
People laughed.
Adeline smiled.
Coulter continued.
“You taught me that keeping something alive means letting it change.”
Adeline’s eyes filled.
Her own vows were simpler.
“You gave me work when I thought my usefulness was over.”
“Then you trusted me before I remembered how to trust myself.”
“So I promise I’ll keep your books straight.”
Coulter smiled.
“And your life?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
The room laughed again.
Then she became serious.
“And when grief comes back, because it will, I won’t compete with it.”
“I’ll sit beside you until it passes.”
Coulter looked toward Marianne’s ring.
Then back to Adeline.
That was the moment he cried.
Quietly.
Without embarrassment.
A year passed.
Then two.
Briggs Auto Repair became profitable again.
Not rich.
Stable.
There was a difference.
Adeline became formal co-owner.
The new sign read:
BRIGGS & MONROE AUTO REPAIR
Coulter objected.
“Too long.”
Adeline said:
“Good.”
“People know Briggs.”
“They’ll learn Monroe.”
“They already know you.”
“Then the sign won’t confuse anyone.”
He lost.
Often.
They hired another mechanic.
Then an office assistant because Adeline refused to spend the rest of her life answering every phone herself.
Eli completed his automotive certification and became lead technician at twenty-four.
Hank trained him on older diesel systems.
Coulter taught him everything else.
The small house beside the garage changed too.
New porch boards.
Curtains.
Secondhand dining table.
Two mismatched nightstands.
Books everywhere.
Adeline planted herbs.