Small electric motor.
Foldable wing tips.
Lightweight landing gear built from bicycle spokes.
Owen helped only when asked.
Celeste learned quickly that unsolicited engineering advice offended Ellie.
One Saturday, Celeste watched Ellie test the folding mechanism.
It jammed.
Ellie frowned.
Owen said:
“Want help?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes.
Still jammed.
Owen said nothing.
Ellie sighed.
“Now.”
He approached.
Celeste smiled.
“You waited.”
Owen looked at her.
“She has to own the frustration before she’ll own the fix.”
Celeste thought about Vale North.
“Maybe I need that on the boardroom wall.”
“Charge you licensing.”
Their first kiss came two months after Christmas.
Not during a rescue.
Not after a grand gesture.
It happened because Celeste fell asleep at Owen’s kitchen table.
She had driven from Columbus after a fourteen-hour audit meeting, insisting she wanted to see Ellie’s first powered taxi test.
The test ended at nine.
Ellie went upstairs.
Owen made coffee.
Celeste sat.
Then her eyes closed.
Owen covered her with an old shop blanket.
Twenty minutes later she woke.
Looked around.
“I’m sorry.”
“For sleeping?”
“I drooled.”
He inspected the table.
“Catastrophic.”
She laughed.
Then saw him looking at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That is not nothing.”
Owen leaned against the counter.
“You’re different here.”
“Worse?”
“Less defended.”
She became still.
“Owen.”
He stepped closer.
“Tell me no.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if I kiss you and this becomes complicated, I want to know I gave you the exit.”
Celeste’s expression softened.
“It became complicated on Christmas Eve.”
“True.”
She stepped closer.
“No.”
Owen blinked.
She smiled.
“You said tell you no.”
His face fell slightly.
Then she touched his shirt.
“I’m telling you no, I do not want the exit.”
He laughed.
Then kissed her.
It was not a billionaire kissing a mechanic.
Not CEO and borrower.
Not rescuer and victim.
Just two adults who had spent months trying not to notice what had already become obvious.
When they separated, Celeste whispered:
“This is a terrible governance structure.”
Owen laughed against her forehead.
“Romantic.”
“I’m trying.”
They told Ellie three weeks later.
She stared.
“You thought I didn’t know?”
Owen closed his eyes.
Celeste smiled.
Ellie continued:
“You look at each other weird.”
“What does that mean?”
Owen asked.
“Like movies.”
Celeste looked delighted.
Owen pointed toward the stairs.
“Homework.”
“Coward.”
“Upstairs.”
Ellie left laughing.