Chapter 189 189
Chapter 189 189
APRIL
I burst out of the limo in full wedding gear. “Sorry! I think I’ll walk after all!”
I don’t stick around to hear the driver’s apologies—I just run. Like the motherfricking wind. Which isn’t a simple feat, considering the five-inch stiletto heels June shoved my feet into, but I’ve beaten worse odds.
After all, what’s one more wedding to crash?
I leave behind the traffic jam and hoist up my white skirts. Some dudes wolf-whistle at me from the sidewalk, but I don’t have the time to give them a piece of my mind. New York traffic has already robbed me of half my prep hour—I’m not sacrificing any more.
Besides—if there was ever a day to run, it’s this.
Thank God we did hair and makeup at home.
I get to the venue with my heels in one hand and my skirts in the other. My feet look like I’ve been walking on coals, and frankly, the sensation isn’t all that different.
“There you are!” Petra scolds me as soon as she sees me running up the stone steps. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry,” I heave. “There was a last-minute hold-up.”
“See, Nugget?” June croons to the bundle in her arms. A very big bundle, but a bundle nonetheless. The tulle certainly doesn’t help. “Your mommy’s a total sleepyhead, too.”
“I wasn’t sleeping!” I say. “I just forgot something, that’s all. I had to go back home and grab it.”
“What could possibly be that important?!” Petra hisses, her own white dress puffing around her like an angry prairie chicken.
I fish around my pockets—because if there’s one advantage to designing my own wedding dress, it’s that I get to have those, thank you very much— until I find the offending object. It isn’t much to look at: a simple piece of blue satin. Cornflower blue, to be exact.
“Can you tie it to my wrist?” I ask.
“Now?!”
“I know, I know! It’s just that I can’t do it on my own and we’re already —”
“Allow me.”
Oh.
Oh my.
I feel rough fingers slip the ribbon from mine. “I thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” I murmur.
“So don’t turn around,” that husky voice replies. “Give me your hand.”
Stunned, I obey. I keep my eyes fixed on some distant spot, somewhere between Petra tapping her heel and June smirking behind her hand.
Maid of honor, my ass.
The fabric grazes my inner wrist. It’s a soft, gentle touch, almost too light to feel. But I could never overlook the heat of that hand, not in a hundred lifetimes. It’s the hand that brought me here, the hand that saved me.
The hand that reached out to me when no one else would.
“Done,” he whispers against my ear.
To say I’m blushing is an understatement. I could stop traffic just by stepping off the sidewalk. “Thank you,” I breathe.
Before he releases my hand, I feel the press of his lips on my knuckles. Just once—just enough to drive me crazy.
“I almost forgot,” he says. “I have a gift for you.”
“Me?” I blink.
“No. For the other bride.”
Petra frowns. “What are you talking about?”
That’s when I see his hand reach between us. I’m still not looking at him— call me superstitious, but I’m not going to invite any more bad luck on myself—so I’m even more surprised when I see what it is.
A folder.
“That’s a weird gift,” June comments as Petra takes the folder from Matvey’s grasp. “I mean, dude, no offense, but I’d have gone with jewelry at the very least.”
“I’ll leave that to Yuri,” he says. “This is from me only.”
Well, now, I’m starting to get jealous. “Where’s my special gift?” I grumble.
“Your special gift isn’t something I can give you in public.”
“Ew!” Petra says. “Double ew, triple ew—just get a room already!”
“Let them tie the knot first,” June pipes up. “God knows these two have sinned enough.”
“Jay!”
While I’m busy bickering with my maid of dishonor, Petra’s eyebrows rise. “Huh. I thought these weren’t going to be ready in time for the ceremony.”
“What are they?” I prod.
“Our divorce papers.”
Oh.
Oh.
Matvey mentioned that it was taking longer than expected. Since we’d already booked everything, we thought we’d go ahead with the ceremony anyway and formalize later, but…
This is real. This is happening.
“How did you get the lawyers to speed this up?” Petra flips through the pages with efficiency.
“Threatened mine,” he says with a low chuckle.
“That’s such bullshit,” she mutters. “I threatened mine, too. What, they’re taking you seriously but not me?”
“Simple math. Pakhan trumps vor. Nothing personal.”
“Yeah, yeah, tell that to those dudebros you hired.”
I feel exhilarated. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. “So we can sign?” I ask. “We can really sign today?”
“As soon as she signs,” he confirms.
I take a glance at the papers. They’ve already been signed and initialed by him, every single page. “Got a pen?” Petra asks.
“Right here.”
Once everything’s in order, she hands the folder back over. “You’ll send me a copy?”
“Sure. Consider it your honeymoon gift.”
“You stingy bastard.”
Despite Petra’s words, this might just be the most amicable divorce I’ve ever witnessed. “So we’re good?” I ask, still incredulous. “We can get married? For real?”
“For real,” Matvey replies. He presses a kiss to the back of my head, and I can feel all his affection there. The love that already binds us, more than any contract ever could.
But still, the ring’s pretty nice.
“I’d better go look for my brother,” he sighs. “Make sure he isn’t breathing in a paper bag.”
Petra’s eyes narrow. “He’s not getting cold feet, is he?”
“I’ve blocked the exits just in case.”
“Double check the locks.”
I roll my eyes. Freaking Bratva. Some things never change. “See you at the altar, then.”
“See you at the altar, Ms. Flowers.”
He speaks those words right against my ear, low and gravelly as sin. It reminds me of the day we met, back when he still did call me that. ‘Ms. Flowers.’
How far we’ve come from that changing room.
Then again, some things never change. Like the heat crawling down my spine, so strong I can barely breathe. I want to rip this dress right off and let him sweep me off my feet, carry me where no one can see us. Declare his love for me in all the ways he knows how.
But first, we’ve got a wedding to attend.