Page 103 of Heritage of Fire

“Rob, this is my wife, Luna. Luna, this is Rob, the owner of this store.” Nik moves to pull out a seat for me. My eyes narrowat him as I sit. He grins, scooting my chair closer to a marble-topped display counter.

There’s an impressive array of engagement and wedding rings lined up on velvet trays, all of them organized by design, metal type, and gemstone. They’re like works of art.

“Very nice to meet you, Luna.” Rob takes my hand and gives it a simple, yet firm, shake. “Let me grab a couple things, and I’ll be back.” He shuffles away, leaving Nik and I to stare at each other.

“What are we doing?” I ask him again.

Moving forward in his seat, he rests his elbows on his thighs, then presses his hands together and brings them to his mouth, almost like he’s praying. I watch him tap his fingers against his lips. I’m not sure why he won’t answer me.

“Nik?” I try one more time.

He sighs and wipes his brow. Then he reaches for me, grabbing my left hand and fiddling with my ring.

Is he nervous?

“I want you to pick a new ring, Luna.” His deep hazel eyes pin me to the spot. “You shouldn’t have to wear one forced on you by your parents. I want you to pick a ring that’s just for you, thatyoulove. For you, and you alone. It’ll be your choice.”

A familiar tingle pricks the back of my eyes.

“And,” he says, “if you choose not to wear one, that’s fine, too.”

Nik looks pained as he says those last words. My eyes flick to his black ring. Was there ever a time when he didn’t wear it? New worry bubbles up inside me.

“Do … do you like yours?”

He snorts and laces his fingers through my hand. “It’s my favorite accessory.”

His smile widens into a large grin, and he pulls my hand to his mouth, kissing the top. Just the minor brush of his lipsagainst my skin ignites my body for his. He rubs his stubble against my wrist, and I laugh.

“All right.” Rob’s voice cuts through our moment and two glasses of champagne are set in front of us. Nik’s eyes narrow on the glass. Rob winces. “I know, I know. I didn’t have any vodka for you, okay? Most of our customers prefer the light and bubbly beverage.”

He sits and pulls out several trays, the gems gleaming under the soft light.

“Any idea what you’d like?”

“I like it,” Nik says, squeezing my hand as we walk down the street.

After sorting through all kinds of different rings, from classic solitaires to vintage-inspired designs with intricate filigrees, I ended up choosing a platinum band with a pear-shaped diamond. We sized my finger, and Nik added a full diamond wedding band to our order. Rob sent us on our way with pickup instructions for two weeks from now.

When we were finished, I slipped my old family ring back on. I can’t bring myself to not wear a ring for two whole weeks.

“Me, too. Thank you.” I grin up at him and he yanks me in for a kiss. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I never thought I could be this happy. Ever.

Nik’s reasoning for wanting to buy me a new ring made me melt and alleviated some of the anxiety I was feeling at dinner. A budding relationship with him—my husband—was not something I foresaw when he stood across from me at the altar. But now, I’m not sure I can imagine being married to anyone else.

The sun has since dipped below the city skyline, and the streets are alive with the glow of neon signs and the energy of the urban night. We walk at an unhurried pace, which is novel, and chat about some of the countries at the top of my travel list; Nik enthusiastically reorders my top five. Being able to savor my time with Nik over the past week has been a dream.

I side-eye him. As he leads me farther down the sidewalk, his large form engulfing mine, he gets progressively quieter—abnormally so—and at one point I glimpse a furrowed brow and a worried looking frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” I ask hesitantly, not wanting to spoil the mood.

“Yeah,” he answers, offering me a simple smile that doesn’t show his dimple.

I’m not sure I believe him. Did something happen?

We pass an ice cream parlor tucked away on a quiet street on the way back to the car. The artisanal flavors call to me, and I stop to read the list posted on their sidewalk sign. The tinkling of a bell and the inviting aroma of freshly churned ice cream grabs my attention, and I look up to see Nik already holding the door open, the grin I so desperately wanted seconds ago spread across his handsome face.

“We’re going in,” he informs me, and I chuckle as I let him usher me into the shop.

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