Page 45 of Salvation

“It’s perfect,” she said, her voice barely audible.

I lifted her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss just above where the ring now sat. “Yes,” I agreed. “It is.”

Arthur returned with impeccable timing, smiling at Yulia’s obvious pleasure. “It suits you beautifully,” he said. “As if it were made for your hand.”

We completed the purchase with minimal fuss -- the price was steep but not unexpected, and I handed over my credit card without hesitation. The club paid its members well, and I’d never been one for extravagant spending. Until now. Until her.

As we stepped back out into the sunshine, Yulia kept looking at her hand, turning it this way and that to watch how the light played across the pink diamond and the detailed engravings. Her expression was one of disbelief mixed with joy, as if she couldn’t quite process that the beautiful object now belonged to her.

“Thank you,” she said as we reached our bikes, her eyes meeting mine with an openness I’d rarely seen before. “Not just for the ring. For…” She struggled to find the words.

“I know,” I said, pulling her close for a moment. “Me too.”

And I did know. This wasn’t about the ring itself. It was about worth. About belonging. About turning a paper arrangement into something real and solid and permanent.

As we mounted our bikes to head back to the compound, I caught her stealing one more glance at her hand, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth that was worth more than all the diamonds in that store.

Chapter Twelve

Salvation

Two Weeks Later

I stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Yulia fold Clover’s clothes into an overnight bag, her movements precise despite the slight tremor in her hands. Our daughter had been bouncing off the walls with excitement when Cyclops offered to have her stay at his place for the weekend -- something about teaching her to work on engines and letting her hang out with his kids. Her excitement had made it difficult for her to focus on a task for more than a minute. The timing of Cyclops’ offer felt deliberate, but I wasn’t complaining.

“She has everything she needs?” I asked, moving closer to where Yulia worked at the kitchen table.

“Toothbrush, clean clothes, her phone charger.” Yulia’s accent was softer than usual, the way it got when she was nervous or thinking too hard about something. “Cyclops said they might go to the movies tonight.”

I nodded, but my attention wasn’t really on Clover’s weekend plans. It was on the way Yulia’s hair caught the afternoon light streaming through our windows, on the curve of her neck as she bent over the bag, on the new ease between us since we’d finally stopped pretending our marriage was just paperwork.

Two weeks. Two weeks since I’d slipped that rose-gold ring onto her finger and we’d admitted what had been building between us for years. Two weeks of falling asleep with her in my arms, of waking up to her smile, of small touches and stolen kisses that still felt like miracles.

“There.” She zipped the bag closed. “All set.”

The sound of a motorcycle in the driveway announced Cyclops’s arrival. Through the window, I watched him park his bike and remove his helmet, his movements unhurried. He caught sight of me through the glass and raised a hand in greeting, that knowing smirk on his face that told me everyone in the club was perfectly aware of what they were doing by giving us this time alone.

Clover burst through the door moments later, practically vibrating with energy. “Is he here? Are we leaving now? Did you pack my --”

“Everything’s ready,” Yulia interrupted gently, handing over the overnight bag. “Be good for Cyclops. Listen to what he tells you.”

Clover rolled her eyes but her grin was infectious. “I’m sixteen, not seven.” She hugged Yulia quickly, then moved to me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m gone,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes that reminded me exactly how much she’d grown up.

“Get out of here, kid,” I said, ruffling her dark hair. But I was smiling as I said it.

She grabbed her bag and bounded toward the door, then paused on the threshold. “You two should, you know, relax. Maybe stay in bed all day or something.” The innocent tone didn’t fool anyone.

Heat flushed through me at Clover’s words, but before I could respond, she was gone, the door slamming behind her with typical teenage exuberance. Through the window, I watched her practically skip to Cyclops’s bike, chattering animatedly as he helped her secure her bag.

“She’s not subtle,” Yulia said softly behind me, but when I turned, her cheeks were pink.

“None of them are.” I moved closer, drawn by the flush in her skin, by the way she was worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Does that bother you?”

She shook her head, but didn’t quite meet my eyes. “It’s just… we have the whole weekend. Just us.”

The weight of that settled between us. Forty-eight hours with no interruptions, no club business, no teenager bursting through the door at unexpected moments. Just Yulia and me, finally free to explore this new reality without holding back.

I reached for her, my hands settling at her waist, thumbs tracing small circles through the fabric of her shirt. “What do you want to do?”

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