A short little drabble for you today! I can't believe how close we are to the end of this season! Trying to keep my spirits high and I hope you're all doing the same!

Enjoy!

Another day, another wedding in Hope Valley.

If you'd asked Lucas Bouchard a year ago who would be the next to get married in their little town, he would've asked you to specify whether you meant who he truly thought would be the next to get married, who he feared might be the next to get married, or who he could only hope would be the next to get married.

But none of those answers would have been correct anyway, because if anyone saw the whirlwind romance of Fiona and Hickam coming, it certainly wasn't him.

He was pretty sure they hadn't seen it coming either, but that's just how love works.

When Florence and Ned had been married the previous fall, Lucas had been certain that Faith and Carson would be soon to follow. After all, he was already well aware of the ring burning a hole in the doctor's pocket, and things had always seemed to be going well with them. That had been, of course, before the town was made aware of his impending departure from Hope Valley, and the couple had decided to part ways, at least for the time being.

Fiona and Hickam, however, had made it apparent to the town that night that they were more than just friends, and they didn't care who saw. There wasn't a soul in Hope Valley that wasn't happy for them, and he had a front row seat over the course of the following months to watch their relationship blossom and flourish.

They'd come into the saloon most nights, meeting after they'd both finished work for what they always claimed would be a quick dinner, despite the fact that they would remain at their table long after their empty plates had been cleared, talking about everything under the sun. When they did finally head out, he would sometimes catch a glimpse of them out the window, holding hands as he walked her home, Fiona leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

The first time he'd seen it happen, the night of Florence and Ned's wedding, he had to consciously push away the thoughts that refused to leave him alone. That night he'd been more certain than ever that the wedding he feared would come next would indeed come to fruition. Of course, he was nothing if not honest with Elizabeth, and he meant what he said when he told her he just wanted her to be happy, so after that fateful night he'd confronted her.

Unable to give him a straight answer again about where her feelings left their relationship, he took a step back, not wanting to be the cause of her unhappiness any longer. He gave her the space he thought she needed. But when a storm ravaged the town, when she thought he'd been hurt, there was no denying any longer that Elizabeth Thornton loved Lucas Bouchard.

And he'd spent every day since doing everything in his power to show her that love in kind. If you had asked him a year ago, Lucas would have said he might've hoped that he would be the next to get married, but standing today, next to Mike as he awaited his bride, he knew once again that he'd wait every day of his life for the woman he loved.

When she walked down the aisle ahead of Clara, holding a bouquet of beautiful blue and purple flowers that perfectly matched the lavender of her dress, Lucas couldn't take his eyes off of her. Her gaze found him easily, and for a brief second they were lost in their own world, and he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Later, when the town was packed into the saloon once more for the reception, Lucas stood quietly at the side of the dance floor, watching the couples swing gracefully around. When she walked up beside him, he didn't flinch, even as she looped her arm through his, pressing herself into his side.

He leaned over, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to her temple before he looked down at her. "Have I told you yet tonight that you look beautiful?" Lucas asked, his voice a whisper meant only for her.

"Only as many times as I've told you that you look handsome," Elizabeth returned, causing them both to smile. Slowly, she leaned her head against his shoulder, perfectly content to watch their friends enjoy the party. She snuggled even closer when she felt him press another featherlight kiss into her hair.

And in that moment, if you had asked him, he would tell you without hesitation that he knew exactly who would be next.