Page 96 of Checks & Bonds

The pastor's words floated around me like a distant melody, barely registering. All I could focus on was Henry's hand holding mine, the warmth and steadiness of his grip. His eyes, locked onto mine, were filled with an intensity that made my heart race.

Henry turned to the pastor, breaking the trance. "Do you have the rings?" he asked, his voice steady.

I blinked, momentarily confused. Rings? I hadn't even thought about rings. The whirlwind of events had left little room for such details. But Henry had clearly thought of everything.

To my astonishment, he reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet box. My breath caught in my throat as he opened it, revealing two rings nestled inside. One was a delicate band adorned with tiny, sparkling diamonds, and the other was a simple, yet elegant, gold band.

Henry took the delicate ring and held it up, his eyes never leaving mine. "Freya," he began, his voice softer now, almost reverent, "with this ring, I promise to stand by you, to support you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live."

He slid the ring onto my finger, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch. The diamonds caught the light, sparkling brilliantly. It was beautiful, more beautiful than anything I could have imagined.

My hands trembled as I took the gold band from the box. My fingers brushed against his, and I felt a surge of emotion I couldn't quite name. "Henry," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "with this ring, I promise to stand by you, to support you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live."

I slid the ring onto his finger, the simple gold band fitting perfectly. It was a symbol of our commitment, our promise to each other. The weight of the moment settled over me, and I felt a sense of calm, a sense of rightness.

We stood there, rings now in place, hands still entwined. The pastor's voice resumed, but I barely heard him. All I could think about was the man standing before me, the man who had become my husband.

“Henry, do you take Freya to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”

Henry’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “I do.”

The pastor turned to me. “Freya, do you take Henry to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sicknessand in health, for richer or poorer, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”

I looked into Henry’s eyes, seeing a future that was uncertain but ours. “I do.”

The pastor smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Henry didn’t hesitate. He cupped my face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm. His lips met mine in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It felt like a promise, a seal on everything we had been through and everything we would face together.

When we finally pulled apart, the world seemed a little brighter, a little more hopeful. I looked at Henry, my husband, and knew that whatever came next, we would face it together.

The ceremony was over, but our journey was just beginning.

30

Henry

Ihad to get Freya home. Now. The ache to claim her as my wife gnawed at me, a constant, consuming hunger. Every moment spent away from her felt like a wasted breath.

Nothing else mattered. Not the meeting I was supposed to have attended where the board members droned on about whether I was entitled to my inheritance. Not the game that my team had won earlier that night without me. Only Freya mattered.

The engine of my car hummed beneath us, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across her face. She looked at me, her eyes holding questions I wasn't ready to answer yet. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, pushing the car a little faster.

Except, when I pulled into the driveway, a familiar car caught my eye. Minka's sleek, black Mercedes. My chest tightened, my pulse quickening for an entirely different reason.

"Everything okay?" Freya's voice was soft, concerned.

I didn't respond. Instead, I guided the car into the garage, the overhead light flickering on as the door rumbled shut behindus. I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, the tension between us thickening.

We stepped into the house, the air heavy with unspoken words. Minka stood in the living room, her presence a dark cloud over the evening I had envisioned. Her arms were crossed, her stance defiant, as if she had been waiting for us.

"What are you doing here, Minka?" I finally asked, my voice cold, eyes narrowing at the sight of her.

Freya moved closer to me, her hand finding mine, grounding me in a way I desperately needed. The weight of her touch, the warmth of her skin—it reminded me why I brought her here in the first place. To make her mine, fully and irrevocably.

"You owe me." Minka's eyes flicked to Freya, then back to me. "I had to miss my boyfriend's championship game.”

I arched a brow, letting my skepticism show. "Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?"

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