I slide the ring onto her finger carefully, watching as it settles perfectly into place. Her other hand rises to cover her mouth again, and a small sound leaves her, half laugh, half sob. She lifts her ring hand toward the light, admiring the way the stone reflects the last rays of the sun.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, her voice thin with awe.
“I spent weeks trying to capture even a fraction of your beauty in this ring, and it still isn’t enough,” I confess as I rise.
Her eyes meet mine, and in the next breath, she is in my arms. She steps forward with so much force that the impact moves through both of us, her hands sliding around my neck, her face pressing into the side of my jaw. Her tears dampen my skin as she clings to me, her body molding against mine as if this is the only place she feels safe enough to unravel.
I wind one arm around her waist and lift her slightly off the ground. Her legs slide beneath her, brushing against mine as she buries herself deeper into the embrace. My other hand cups the back of her head, my fingers threading through the soft strands of hair that smell faintly of vanilla and wind.
She draws in a long breath, then another, until her breathing finds a rhythm against my chest. The warmth of her body so close to mine reminds me of everything I once thought I could never have. A home. A family. A future.
“I love you,” she murmurs against my skin, the words brushing my jaw with every syllable. “I love you so much.”
I press my cheek to her temple, inhaling her scent. “You have given me more than you know.”
She leans back slightly, her hands smoothing along my shoulders and sliding down my arms until her fingers find mine. She keeps her ring hand in front of her face, admiring it again, her expression full of wonder. Her lips part slightly as she turns her hand, watching the diamond glimmer in the soft evening glow.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmurs, her voice warm and breathless. “I never thought I would stand in this place again, much less… this.”
Her voice trails off as she gestures to the ring with a small shake of her hand, like she still thinks the moment might disappear if she touches it too long.
I guide her hand down gently, closing her fingers around mine. “You deserve a life filled with moments like this.”
She leans into me, her breath warming the space between us as the mountains fade into evening. I hold her hand a little tighter, knowing this is only the beginning of the life we are building together.
20
SAGE
The new sign still does something to my chest.
Bean & Bloom curves across the painted wood in my mother’s old script, though the updated lines and deeper colors betray Luka’s involvement. He may swear he didn’t interfere, but I know his fingerprints when I see them. The wood is new. The glass is new. The door is new. Everything is new, and somehow, it still feels like home.
I stand on the sidewalk in the early light, my hands wrapped around a to-go cup I poured myself from the first pot of coffee this morning. Steam curls up into the cool mountain air. Aspen Ridge is just starting to wake up. The street is quiet except for a truck rumbling in the distance and a couple walking their dog on the opposite side. Behind me, the café hums. The grinders. The soft clink of cups. Voices. Laughter. Jenny singing something off-key in the back.
A smile spreads slowly across my face. I let myself soak it in for another second, because this is the moment I used to picture when the nights were too long, and the fear pressed too close.The doors open again. The sign is shining. The smell of coffee and cinnamon is pouring into the street.
“Penny for your thoughts,printsessa.”
Luka’s voice slides over my shoulder a split second before his hand does. His palm comes to rest at the small of my back, warm and familiar. I tilt my head and look up at him.
He fills the doorway like he was made to stand there. Against his chest, in a navy carrier strapped across his torso, our son sleeps with his cheek mashed against Luka’s sternum and one tiny hand clenched into a fist.
I reach for that fist. My thumb brushes over the soft, dimpled knuckles, and my heart does that thing it keeps doing now. That small, stunned drop. I still can’t fully believe this is real.
“Just making sure I’m not dreaming,” I say.
Luka glances up at the sign. His mouth tips. “If this is a dream, it is very well catered.”
I laugh quietly. “And very well staffed. Are they all here already?”
He nods toward the inside. “Your sister is trying to teach Nikolay how to use a milk frother without baptizing himself in foam. Anya is organizing pastries as if they are soldiers on parade. Misha is doing his best to look like security and failing because Jenny keeps bringing him muffins.”
I can picture it perfectly. “And Isaak?”
A muted change passes through Luka’s eyes, hovering between tension and comfort.
“He is at the corner table by the window,” he says. “He claims he wants to watch the town walk in. I think he wants them to see him here.”
