“Yes, well.” Ilya didn’t finish his sentence, and Shane supposed he didn’t need to.
“I made tacos.”
“Oh yes?” Ilya sat up, and then gracefully extracted himself from the hammock in a way that seemed impossible to Shane. Whenever Shane had used the hammock, he’d basically dumped himself onto the lawn, sprawled out on his belly. “Where is Anya?”
“Asleep after that epic walk.” They held hands as they walked back up to the house. “Want to watch the game tonight?” The final round of the playoffs was starting that night, between New York and Colorado.
“Not really,” Ilya said.
Shane smiled. “Me neither.”
“Do you know what I want to do?”
“Is it filthy?”
“No. I want to make a video.”
“That sounds filthy.”
Ilya laughed and tugged Shane closer, bumping their shoulders together. “For Instagram. I want to post about us.” He stopped walking and pulled out his phone. He tapped it a few times, then held it at arm’s length in front of him.
“Oh,” Shane said. “Now?”
“Yes.” Then, after a second’s pause, Ilya cheerfully said, “Hello! I am Ilya, and this is my boyfriend, Shane. Say hello, Shane.”
“Um. Hi.”
“Shane, when are we getting married?”
“July.”
Ilya made an exaggerated surprised face. “July!”
Shane could see his own goofy, lovesick grin on Ilya’s phone screen. They hadn’t officially announced their engagement yet. “Still can’t believe it, huh?”
“We are getting married. And then we are going to keep playing hockey, break more records, and win more cups. Yes, Shane?”
“Hell yes.”
“See you in October, hockey fans,” Ilya said. Then he kissed Shane loudly on the cheek, and ended the video.
They watched it back together, and Shane had to admit they both looked pretty good, what with the perfect golden light. Also, they looked giddy with how in love they were. “I think Crowell is really going to like that video,” he said dryly.
“Fuck Crowell. I am posting it now.”
Shane still felt a twist of terror at the idea of angering the commissioner, but he quickly squashed it. They weren’t going to hide anymore. Not from anyone, and not for anyone. “God, I hope someone signs me.”
Ilya snorted. “Of course they will.”
“What if—”
“Shane,” Ilya said seriously. “Do we have to drive back to your trophy room in Montreal?”
Shane blushed. “No.”
“Or maybe you watch a YouTube video of your best goals while I blow you?”
Heat flooded Shane’s stomach. “I mean. It wouldn’t hurt to try.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
July
“What do you think?” Shane asked.
Ilya couldn’t think. He didn’t have a thought in his head because he was full to bursting with happiness. It was a week before their wedding, and Shane was standing in front of him in an Ottawa Centaurs jersey and ball cap. He knew that Shane had gone to the team offices to sign the contract today, but seeing him now, wearing the uniform, in Ilya’s house, was overwhelming.
“You make that stupid logo look so good,” Ilya said.
“It is stupid, right? It’s not just me?”
“No. We all think so. Come here.” Ilya wrapped him in a tight hug. “I cannot believe this. Is too much. I am too happy.”
Shane laughed against him. “Me too.” He pushed away. “God, I can’t wait to play with you! I know we’re both centers, but I’ll bet we’ll be on the power play together. This is going to be so awesome!”
“And,” Ilya added, “no more hiding.”
“No more hiding. Everyone I met in management was so great. Oh! Harris was there too. It was nice to finally meet him. I guess he’s getting promoted to Senior Director of...something. Communications?”
“Good. He deserves it.”
“The owners actually booked us a table at some fancy restaurant downtown tonight.”
“With them?”
“No. Just the two of us. They said it was a welcome-to-the-team thing, but also...” Shane’s cheeks flushed. “They said it was an early wedding present. Can you believe it?”
“Yes.” Ilya had known the owners—three siblings from an old money Ottawa family—for years, and they’d always been decent to him.
“I was stunned. I barely remembered to thank them.”
“Maybe I should have gone with you after all.” They’d decided that Shane would go alone to sign the contract, just so the press about it wasn’t all about them.
It probably would be anyway.
“So, dinner tonight?”
Ilya smiled. “A date. Yes. Can you wear that jersey?”
Shane laughed. “No.”
“Can I take you to bed now, then? And you wear only that jersey?”
Shane leaned in and kissed him. “Is this a hazing thing?”
“Yes. I do it to everyone.”
“Shut up.”
“Troy was incredible.”
Shane shoved him with both hands. “You’re the worst. Come ravage me.”
Ilya grinned and chased him up the stairs.
* * *
Ilya ran a hand over his cheek as he examined himself in the mirror. It felt weird, being so clean-shaven, but he’d thought it would look sloppy to leave stubble on his face. He wanted to look perfect.
It was his wedding day, after all.
“Sheesh,” said a voice behind him. Ilya turned and saw David standing in the door of Ilya’s bedroom. “I was going to offer to help you with your tie or something, but you clearly don’t need my assistance.”
Ilya smiled at him, then pulled his own cuff links out. He held out the round gold and mother of pearl studs to Shane’s father. “You can help me put these in.”
David chuckled as he stepped forward and took the cuff links. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel useful.”
“Shane doesn’t need help?”