Page 217 of Cashmere Ruin

“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.

“Yourspecial 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 ofdishonor, 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.

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