Too late.
She’s already at the door, flinging it open like she’s five years old and it’s Christmas morning.
“Luna!”
Her entire face lights up. She throws her arms around her best friend, squealing, nearly knocking both of them off balance.
My heart stops.
She’s going to fall, she’s—
But Luna steadies her, laughing.
I exhale through my teeth.
Fine.
She’s fine.
I open my mouth to tell her, again, to slow down, but Nico walks in behind Luna and he has my ring.
I see it.
The bag.
Velvet.
Small.
Black.
He nods at me.
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
Vasilisa links arms with Luna, dragging her inside, talking a mile a minute as she pulls her toward the kitchen.
Before she disappears entirely, I pull her close by the waist, press a kiss to the crown of her head, and murmur against her hair:
“Don’t run, Dea.I mean it.”
She huffs, actually huffs at me, before tugging Luna toward the kitchen.
Both of them vanish around the corner.
I wait until her green dress slips fully out of view before I turn back to Nico.
He lifts the bag in his hand.
The heirloom she thinks she lost.
The ring I stole on purpose.
The ring I had engraved because my wife deserves more than anything I’ve ever given her.
And tonight—
Tonight is the night.
