Inside, nestled in a bed of black silk, were two rings. One she recognized as a traditionally inspired Russian three-strand wedding band. Each diamond-encrusted ring interwoven with the others was a different shade of gold: yellow, white and rose.
It was beautiful, but not ostentatious. Perfect for her. Beside it rested a diamond engagement ring set in the pink-tinted gold that would sit flush against the curved wedding band when he put it on her hand.
She didn’t ask how he knew the rose tint that used to be known as Russian gold was her favorite. Vik was scary like that.
She didn’t ask if she would be able to wear the ring beside the wedding ring after they were married. She could see the curve in the band that would make that possible.
He’d melded the traditions of his homeland with that of his grandparents and taken her own preferences into consideration. It was so Vik. She might not still be in love with him, but it was no wonder she’d never been able to accept a substitute.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, the moment feeling unexpectedly profound.
“As is the woman it was designed for.”
“You didn’t have this designed for me.” He couldn’t possibly have.
This kind of custom work wasn’t done in a few hours.
He cupped her hands with his own. “You will have to accept that my plans for the future have included you for much longer than you considered me in the same regard.”
“I sincerely doubt that.” He’d been it for her since she’d had her first real thought about boys and girls and how their lives came together.
Even when she hadn’t realized she was still comparing every man to Viktor Beck. Darn Romi being right all these years anyway.
He shook his head. “You had a schoolgirl crush, but have not thought of me in that way for six years.”
So, he wasn’t all-knowing. “That shows how much you know. Romi always says I hold other men up to your example and they pale in comparison.”
“And what do you say?”
“I always denied it.”
“See, I told you.”
“I’ve begun to realize she might have been right.” No other man had a chance with Maddie.
Not Perry, not anyone.
Vik’s expression dismissed her words as an exaggeration.
“I never forgot you.” He’d been too deeply embedded in her psyche, if not her heart.
Maddie had honestly believed her issues with trust had prevented intimacy with another man, but now realized memories of that guy had been enough to keep others at bay.
“You avoided me like the plague.”
“You did your own avoidance.”
“For about a year,” he acknowledged. “I missed our friendship. I thought enough time had passed that we’d gotten past the awkward incident.”
And he’d approached her. She’d rebuffed him, doing her best to never be put in a position where they could speak privately again. She’d stopped coming home unless her father demanded her attendance and that happened rarely enough.
For at least two years, Maddie had turned down every invite that might put her and Vik in the same sphere.
“I wasn’t on the same page.” What had been awkward for him had been humiliating for her.
“You made that unmistakable.”
“I was angry with you.” She’d felt betrayed.
Perry’s treachery hurt; Vik’s rejection had devastated her.
“And now?” Vik asked.
What did he want her to say? She’d stopped avoiding him at social functions before she graduated from university, but she’d still made sure there was no opportunity for them to renew the old friendship.
“The world looks like a different place from twenty-four than eighteen.” It was the best she could do.
“You will forgive me for hurting you?” he asked, like it really mattered.
So, she told him the truth. “I forgave you a long time ago, Vik.”
“It did not feel like it.”
She looked up into his espresso-brown eyes. “Do you forgive me?”
“For kissing me?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Not a usual circumstance for him. She would take a moment to savor it and even tease him if the discussion wasn’t so important.
She explained, “For mistaking your kindness for something more and making our friendship impossible.”
“I never held it against you.” His tone implied something else altogether.
“You thought you should have known I was falling in love with you,” she realized.
“That wasn’t the way I termed it, but yes.”
Right. He’d thought her love was a crush. But if it had been only a crush, it would have taken months, not years, to get over.