Eventually they broke apart, and Shane managed only to say, “Come inside,” before they were kissing again.
Finally, finally, Shane took Ilya’s hand and led him inside. It was only then that Ilya realized Shane hadn’t been wearing a coat.
“I’m sorry,” Ilya said. “You must be freezing.”
“I’m fine.” Shane watched him remove his outerwear, chewing his lip and sliding his hands in and out of the pockets of his dress pants. He seemed uneasy.
Ilya tried to kiss him again, but Shane took a step back and said, “Follow me?”
Ilya smiled. “Anywhere.”
Shane let out an oddly nervous laugh, which made Ilya laugh. Then Shane took his hand again, and they walked together to Ilya’s living room, where—
“What is this?” Ilya asked. The drapes were drawn across the large windows that normally looked out to the river, and the room was dark. Except for the glow of about a million candles.
They were everywhere: on the tables, on the floor, on the mantel, even on the arms of the furniture. It was beautiful and...weird.
“Are you trying to burn my house down?” was what Ilya finally said.
Shane’s lips curved up. “They’re electric. Fucking relax, Rozanov.”
Ilya’s heart started to race, but not because he was concerned about fire safety. He’d once told Shane, years ago, that one day he would cover the dock at his cottage in candles. That he’d bring Shane down there, then ask him to marry him. It had been a joke, sort of. But now he was really standing in a room full of candles and—
Shane sank to one knee in front of him.
Ilya had enjoyed watching Shane go to his knees in front of him many times over the years, but he knew immediately that this was different. He suddenly felt winded. And dizzy. And maybe a little queasy.
“What is this?” he whispered.
Shane gazed up at him, his expression steady and determined, and said, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
Ilya swallowed. Why was it so hard to swallow? It was like he had no saliva at all.
“We’ve wasted so much time,” Shane continued. “Years of denial, then years of hiding what we are to each other.”
“Shane—”
“Could you not interrupt?” Shane said with a teasing smile. “For once in your life?”
Ilya pressed his lips together.
“I don’t have a plan for anything beyond this,” Shane confessed, “but I know what I want. There’s nothing in my life that matters to me more than you, Ilya.” He slid his hand into his pants pocket again. He had to lean awkwardly to one side to fit his fingers inside.
Then, Shane was holding a ring, pinched between two fingers, in the space between himself and Ilya.
“Shane,” Ilya said again, unable to stop himself.
“I choose you, Ilya. I promise I will always, always choose you.” Shane’s eyes began to shimmer. He took a deep breath and said, “Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov, will you marry me?”
Ilya wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he realized he hadn’t said anything. He hoped it had only been a second or two, but judging from the fear in Shane’s eyes, it must have been longer. Finally, in a tight, trembling voice, he said, “You know my middle name.”
“It’s on Wikipedia. I kind of fell down a rabbit hole learning about the Russian tradition of using the father’s name to—”
“Yes,” Ilya interrupted.
“Sorry. I’m babbling. You know how Russian names work.”
“No,” Ilya clarified. “Yes.”
Shane stared at him with obvious confusion. Ilya nodded to the ring.
“Yes,” Ilya said again. “I am saying yes, Hollander.”
“Oh.” Then Shane’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Yeah?” He scrambled to his feet and into Ilya’s arms.
They kissed, and Ilya said, “Yes.” They kissed again, and Ilya said, “Of course.”
They kissed some more, and Shane said, “I love you.”
By the time they finished kissing they both had tears streaming down their cheeks. “Is this because I almost died?” Ilya teased.
“No. It’s because I almost died.”
Ilya brushed the tears on Shane’s face with his thumb. What could he even say to that?
“So, um,” Shane said, after a long, fragile moment, “the ring.”
“Yes, right.” Ilya took the ring from Shane and inspected it for a moment. A simple black band with a gold interior. Very classy. He smiled at Shane, and attempted to slip it onto his own finger. It didn’t quite fit.
“Nuts,” Shane said, looking disappointed. “I didn’t know your ring size.”
“Is okay.” Ilya removed the ring with some effort. “Am I supposed to wear it now? Or is it for after we are married?”
“You know,” Shane said, “I have no idea. I just thought I should have a ring for this.”
Ilya handed the ring back to Shane, then loosened and removed his necktie. He opened the top buttons of his shirt, then reached back and unclasped the gold chain around his neck. He removed it, then held out his palm for the ring.
“Oh,” Shane said, then handed him the ring. Ilya slipped it onto the chain until it nudged up against the crucifix pendant that had been his mother’s.
“Here,” Shane said, and reached for the chain. Ilya turned his back to him, and Shane fastened the necklace back in place.
“Did you buy one for yourself?” Ilya asked. “Or is that my job?”
“I was going to buy the matching one. I just...wanted to make sure I needed it first.”
Ilya raised his eyebrows as he turned back to face Shane. “You thought I would say no?”
Shane at least had the decency to look embarrassed about it. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to be cocky about it.”
Ilya laughed, a little wetly because he was still a mess, then cradled Shane’s face with both hands. “Buy the ring.”
They were both half crying as they kissed, their breath stuttering and their lips stretched into wide smiles. A terrible kiss in theory, but Ilya had never experienced one better. Shane Hollander was going to be his husband.
Shane untucked Ilya’s dress shirt from his suit pants and slid his hand underneath. He pressed his palm to Ilya’s chest, over his heart.