Page 167 of Cashmere Ruin

Then he pulls something out of his pocket.

I squint. Despite the dim lights, I manage to make out a piece of fabric, long and sleek and gray. No, blue.

No—cornflower blue.

It’s a hair ribbon.Myhair ribbon. From when we first met.

“You kept it all this time?”

“Always,” he replies, and it sounds like the truth. Like a vow.

Wordlessly, he ties it to my finger.I have no ring, he said, but this is better than a ring, better than any diamond.

This isus.

And it’s all I ever wanted.

“April Esther Flowers…”

“I never told you my middle name,” I sniffle, but there’s no stopping the smile spreading on my cheeks.

“I have my sources.” He winks. “Now, can I please pop the question?”

I look at the ribbon around my finger. At his tie, his suit—the same one from the shop. I didn’t notice until now, but it’s the very same, down to the gray shirt and blue tie.Ours.“Do it.”

“April Esther Flowers, will you marry me?”

Will I? After you’ve made me fall in love with you in every possible way, will I marry you?

“Yes.” I nod, crying and laughing at the same time. “Yes, Matvey Groza, I’ll marry you.”

The second he stands back up, I fly into his arms. He twirls me like I’m weightless, the curve of his smile pressed against my skin. It’s such a rare thing, I want to burn it there forever.

Forever.Maybe we can have that after all.

I’m expecting my feet to touch the ground, but they don’t. “Matvey?”

“I’m sorry.”

I blink. “You already apologized.”

“No, I’m sorry for this.” He carries me to the bedroom, then presses me down on the mattress. “I can’t wait anymore,” he rasps, voice filled with desire. “I want you now.”

My eyes go dark and hooded. “Then take me.”

And he does.

He takes me every way he can, any way he wants me. He takes me with his mouth first, capturing my lips like a hunter with his prey, like he wants to eat me whole.

When his teeth graze my throat, I sigh. “Matvey.”

When his beard scratches my inner thigh, I keen. “Matvey.”

When his tongue plunges deep inside me, hot and rough and beautiful, all I can do is hold on for dear life. “Matvey!”

“Blyat’,” he curses against my flesh. “Say it again. Let me hear you,kalina.”

So I do. I say his name like a prayer, letting it echo in the four walls of our bedroom. I say it like a vow. It’s sacred, it’s obscene. It’s both, because that’s what we are: a mix of the best and worst of us.

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