Page 150 of Even Robots Die
Weirdly I can’t hear Marius or Camille cry and that must be a first.
That’s not the weirdest thing now, though. Because when I enter the living room, Léandre is on his knees—yes both—holding out a hand with a small box inside.
As I get closer, I can finally see the ring that is inside. It’s lovely with a big diamond in the middle and small rubies on the side that look like drops of blood.
It also looks like Léandre’s wings, in a way, and as if he knew I would think that, his wings are on display now.
“Do you want to marry Papa?” Sophie asks from her position right next to me, and I nod frantically.
I’m not sure I can talk right now. Between the flowers, Sophie and Léandre, it all feels so perfect.
Léandre gets up and wraps his arms around me.
“I love you, Firefly,” he says against my lips before kissing me. “And if you’ll have me, I’ll love you for the rest of our lives. And in the next one, too.”
“Yes,” I finally answer him when I can talk again. “Yes, I want to be your wife.”
“Youhou. I can be a flower girl.” I hear Sophie whisper, still holding my hand.
Léandre grabs and hauls her up on the side of his hip, so she releases my hand, and he slips the ring on my finger with pride.
Wrapped in his arms, I dip my hand in the right pocket of my dress—because yes, it has pockets—and retrieve what I’ve been using as a worry toy for almost four years now. I’ve always fidgeted, but since I asked Florentine to make this little thing, I’ve gotten to fidget in my pocket for the most part.
“I guess I can finally give you this,” I tell Léandre as I fish out what I was looking for.
The ring.
When Léandre sees it, his eyes grow glassy, and I know doing this in advance was the best idea I’ve ever had.
It’s not very ornate or fancy, and in truth, it looks a lot like the one I’ve been forced to stare at for the past seven years, but I like it the way it is.
Because this one is mine.
Sophie grabs it before Léandre can and says “it’s weird. Why is there something written on top of it?”
She doesn’t know how to read yet, but she can easily recognize that what’s on top of the ring isn’t a normal pattern for a ring.
She gives the ring to Léandre, and the tears that have been threatening from crawling out of his eyes finally fall on his cheeks.
And I know why.
I know it’s because of what I got engraved on the outer part of the ring instead of the inner one.
“In this life and the next.”
Because there will be no “or” in our lives ever again...
Third Epilogue
Florentine, Seven years later
“Furious, they’re here,” Brice says through the frame of the door to my workshop.
It doesn’t look like the one I was secretly renting in the basement of some building next to the home I shared with my sisters and Dad.
This one is bigger—which, according to Brice, might not have been the best idea because bigger means bigger mess—with large windows that span from the floor to the ceiling on the side that faces the river.
The door Brice just leaned against is on the other side, and even on that side there are large windows letting the sun enter my work space. The only part of this workshop that isn’t bathed by natural light is the little room on the left that’s darkened on purpose, in case I need to work on something that necessitates a different kind of light or no light at all.
