Page 215 of The Blame Game

“No, I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I thought you were angry at me.”

“Non. I could never be angry at you. Je t’aime.”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “Can I … I’m taking my boyfriend to Paris later this summer. Can we come visit you? I’d like you to meet him.”

“Oh! Please. Please. When will you be here?” She sounded so excited his heart clenched.

“I don’t have exact dates yet. He’ll have to take time off work and I wanted to see—to be sure you wanted us there first.”

“Yes. You will come,” she said softly. “We’ll drink wine and we’ll talk and I will meet your boyfriend.”

“I’d like that,” Dom whispered, wiping at his eyes. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Have you eaten anything?” Shea asked Dom a while later.

He sat on the grass at Shea’s feet, shirtless, one arm draped over Shea’s thigh as he guzzled down a bottle of water because Shea had pressed it into his hand and ordered him to drink it.

“This morning? I think?” Dom said, crumpling the plastic and tossing it aside.

Shea laughed because yes, he’d fed Dom a hearty breakfast to soak up the copious quantities of beer he knew he’d be drinking.

Shea had seen someone passing out sandwiches before the parade but he hadn’t actually seen Dom eat one and Jesus, Shea should know how bad hockey players were at taking care of themselves but this week had driven that point home.

“Here.” Shea passed him the plate of food he’d gotten for himself. “Eat.”

Dom ate, seemingly content to watch the celebrations continue while he shoveled food in. He appeared to be buzzed at the moment, happy and not entirely focused.

Shea loved that his hair was a rumpled mess and that he had a little bit of a sunburn from the parade this afternoon. It was the Dom Shea knew and loved, but the freest, most casual version of him he’d ever seen.

A Dom unburdened by pain or pressure. There was no fear or sadness, only joy.

“Love you,” he whispered, combing through Dom’s wild hair.

Dom beamed up at him, a breadstick still in his mouth. Shea snorted and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his head. He was so messy and Shea was never going let him live it down.

“You stay here,” he said. “Until you finish your food. I have to find a bathroom and then see if Charlie needs any help wrangling the other guys.”

Dom let out a grumble but nodded so Shea extricated himself from Dom’s grip and nodded at Natasha, who sat nearby with Jordan’s head in her lap, half-asleep or half-passed out, Shea wasn’t sure.

She smiled and nodded back, like she knew that he was asking her to keep an eye on Dom too.

All of the guys seemed to be winding down a little, tired after days of celebrating and the hot sun of the parade.

Matty and Nico were still going strong but Shea wasn’t sure if that was the drinking or their general zeal for life.

The multitude of kids, worn out from the parade and swimming all day, had all gone home with people Shea assumed were nannies or babysitters and Matty currently had a laughing Antoni slung over his shoulder as he carried him toward the pool.

Shea ducked into the house, waving vaguely at people he probably should know the names of but had already forgotten since he met them a few days ago. He was pretty sure he’d met everyone from the organization twice.

He spotted Kate talking to someone, though she didn’t see him, and he went down a hallway in search of a bathroom.

He pulled open a door to find Jesse Webber making out with someone in a laundry room and shut it again. The second door revealed a linen closet.

On his third try, he found a bathroom and used it.

As he left, he wiped his slightly damp hands on his shorts, smelling faintly of citrus from the soap, then turned and came face to face with Birdie glaring at an older man who had his back to Shea.

“Get away from me, you creep. Even if I were into you, which I’m definitely not, I’m with Colton,” she said with a scowl.

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