Page 102 of Sacrifice
"We need to celebrate," Mom declares. "Nothing fancy, just family dinner. Let everyone know."
"Gwen," Emil says carefully, "I'm not exactly up for?—"
"Nonsense. You'll sit there and let people congratulate you. No walking required." She's in full mom mode now. "I'll get food started. Saga, bring him out when you're ready. Oh! And someone needs to call Elfe. She'll want to know."
They bustle out, leaving us alone again.
"Your mom's a force of nature," Emil observes.
"You have no idea." I help him stand. "Ready for this?"
"With you? Ready for anything."
The main room erupts when we enter.
My cut tells the story without words.
Old ladies swarm me, admiring the leather, welcoming me officially to their ranks.
The men slap Emil's good shoulder, offering congratulations and good-natured threats about treating me right.
"Finally," Meghan says, hugging me tight. "Gods, watching you two dance around each other was painful."
"We weren't dancing?—"
"You were totally dancing. But look at you now!" She fingers the cut. "Emil's ol’ lady. It suits you."
"Feels right," I admit.
"That's because it is right. You two are meant for each other. Anyone with eyes could see it."
Others echo the sentiment.
Even Tindra, usually shy, gives me a fierce hug. "He's lucky to have you."
"I'm lucky too," I tell her, and mean it.
Astrid appears with a beer for me, grinning. "So when's the wedding?"
"Gods, give us five minutes to adjust to this first."
"I'm just saying, club weddings are fun. Remember Rio and Dasha's?"
I do remember.
The joy, the family, the feeling of everything being right in the world.
Maybe someday that'll be us. But for now, this is enough for me.
Emil holds court from a chair, still pale but smiling.
Watching him with his brothers, seeing how they close ranks around him, I understand better what this means.
I'm not just his now—I'm theirs.
Part of the family in a way I wasn't before, even growing up here.
"My turn," a familiar voice says.
