When they broke the kiss, Ilya said, “You will be a good dad.”
Shane rested his forehead on Ilya’s shoulder and smiled. “Not as good as you.”
Ilya huffed. “Not everything is a competition with us.”
“We’d find a way to make parenting a competition.”
Strong arms tightened around Shane. “No. It will be together. Peaceful.”
Shane, feeling brave, admitted, “There were moments today where I felt like I was looking into our future.”
Ilya pulled back to meet Shane’s gaze. “And it was okay?”
“It was amazing.”
Shane saw joy flash in Ilya’s eyes, and then he didn’t see anything because Ilya was kissing him thoroughly. Shane lost himself in it, enjoying the familiar but still exhilarating heat of Ilya’s mouth. Shane touched him everywhere: the rough scratch of Ilya’s ever-present stubble, the soft curls of his shaggy hair, the long line of his neck and the mounds of his muscular shoulders. He slid a hand up under Ilya’s T-shirt and glided his palm over Ilya’s abs, his perfect bellybutton, and the neat trail of hair beneath it. Then up to his broad chest, over his chest hair and stiff nipples, finally resting over his heart and his stupid bear tattoo.
“I love you,” Ilya murmured against Shane’s lips.
“I love you too.”
“But we are not having four children.”
Shane laughed. “God no. Of course not.”
“It would be too much. With the dogs.”
“Um. I think you mean cat.”
“I did not mean cat. Definitely not.”
“How many dogs exactly?”
“Some. Maybe one, to start. And then he needs a friend, so two. Maybe they don’t like each other so we get number three to be, um...”
“A mediator?”
“Okay. Maybe, yes.”
“And if they don’t like that one?”
“The fourth dog will—”
Shane stepped out of Ilya’s arms. “No.”
Ilya laughed. “One dog.”
“One dog,” Shane agreed.
“You will want more. Just wait.”
Just wait. The words rang in Shane’s ears as he made his way to the kitchen. He believed in their relationship, and was confident that they would have everything they wanted when the time was right. But sometimes he wished the right time was now.
“Are you hungry?” Shane asked.
“Yes.”
“I have a premade lasagna. I just have to bake it.”
Ilya’s face lit up with interest. Then, just as quickly, his face fell. “What are the noodles?”
“Zucchini.”
“No!”
“It’s good, I swear. You won’t even notice the difference,” Shane lied. He turned on the oven, and decided not to tell Ilya what the stand-in for the cheese was.
Ilya grunted as he sat on Shane’s sofa, and Shane glanced over with concern. “How’s your knee?”
“It fell off,” Ilya said dryly, clearly done with Shane asking the same question over and over.
“Let me look at it.”
“You saw it this morning.” Ilya had his sore leg stretched out on the sofa. “Is still just bruised.”
Shane was already at his side. He tried to slide Ilya’s pants leg up, but the tapered cut of the fancy jogging pants made it impossible. “Pull your pants down.”
“You are terrible at foreplay,” Ilya said, but he lifted his hips and slid his waistband down to his shins. The outer part of Ilya’s left knee was entirely dark purple and swollen.
“Jesus,” Shane said. He brushed his fingers over the bruise. “Maybe you should have seen a doctor today.”
“I saw the team doctor last night. Is bruised. Have you not ever had a bruise?”
“I’m getting you some ice.”
Ilya made a vague grunting noise that Shane translated as Ice would feel amazing but I am absolutely not going to admit that.
Shane left and returned with an ice pack, some ibuprofen, and a glass of water. He carefully placed the ice on Ilya’s knee while Ilya took the pills.
“Thank you, moy gazonokosilka.”
This was a game Ilya liked to play where he used random Russian words as pet names, to test Shane. Shane thought hard for a moment, trying to guess the word’s meaning, but ultimately surrendered. “No idea what that one means.”
“Is, um...for cutting the grass.”
“Lawnmower?”
“Yes.”
“Weird.”
Shane felt something digging into his hip when he bent to kiss Ilya quickly, then remembered the plastic heart rings that the kids had insisted he and Ilya keep. He took them out of his pocket and placed them on the coffee table, and was about to return to the kitchen when Ilya said, quietly, “The kids didn’t care.”
“About what?”
“About us. They knew, and they did not care.”
“Yeah. That was a surprise.” Shane had no idea how Ruby and Jade had been so certain that Ilya and Shane were a couple—he was sure their parents hadn’t told them, it would be risky giving young children that information—but they’d known and accepted it and had insisted on making honest men of them both.
“Maybe more people would not care,” Ilya said. “If they knew.”
“I think most people would care way too fucking much,” Shane said dismissively.
Ilya’s expression shuttered, then he began to aggressively adjust his ice pack. Shane felt like he’d said something wrong, but what else could he have said? He didn’t honestly believe that many people would accept them as a couple. They could only stick to the plan, which was continuing on in secret until they were both retired. Or at least until one of them was, but Shane hoped they would retire together. The idea of playing in a league without Ilya seemed strange and hollow.
Shane put a tentative hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Ilya crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled something in Russian.
“Huh?”
“I think you care too fucking much.”
“About what? Us?”
“No. About everyone else. Opinions.”