Page 193 of The Long Game
“So...” Shane said nervously. “Mom has it in her head that we need to, like, dance. In front of everyone.”
“Oh?”
“Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about it, but I guess that’s a wedding thing, right?”
Hayden looked gobsmacked. “Yeah, it’s a fucking wedding thing, you moron. Did you guys not even pick a song?”
“Shane does not know any songs,” Ilya said.
Shane was apparently too nervous to acknowledge Ilya’s quip. “So, like, do we just get whoever is in charge of the music to play a song and we, like, slow dance in the middle of the lawn? I don’t really know how to dance.”
“Come on,” Ilya said, and extended his hand.
It turned out that Harris had taken over the music duties and had his phone connected to Ilya’s wireless speakers, which someone had brought outside.
“Harris,” Ilya called from the middle of the yard. “Play something romantic.”
“You’re lettingmechoose?” Harris sounded terrified.
“Just put on whatever. Is fine.” Ilya glanced at Shane’s anxious face. “Something short.”
Ilya held out his hand to Shane.
“Oh, areyouleading?” Shane asked.
“Yes. Because you can’t dance.”
Shane huffed and took his hand, then placed his other hand on Ilya’s back as the opening vocals of Rihanna’s “Diamonds” started playing.
“This sounds like a weird choice,” Shane said.
“No,” Ilya said softly. “Is perfect.”
They danced—well, rotated—under the lights and surrounded by everyone they loved as Rihanna sang lyrics that, secretly, had always made Ilya think of Shane.
“Oh,” Shane said, halfway through the song. “I’ve heard this before.”
Ilya laughed. “I love you so much it sucks.”
Shane beamed at him. “That’s too bad, because this is as good as it’s going to get.”
“No,” Ilya said fondly. “I don’t think it is.”
Epilogue
October
“You know,” Shane said. “The last time I was at an Ottawa Centaurs home opener, I was twelve years old.”
Ilya smiled at him. He hadn’t been able to stop smiling since he’d woken up that morning, and Shane had been just as giddy. They’d kissed each other awake, then took Anya for a jog. They made a big breakfast together and ate it on the back deck because it had been a beautiful, sunny day. Shane had reminded Ilya to take his pill with breakfast—unnecessary, because Ilya had an alert set on his phone to remind him, but still very sweet. They’d had lunch with David and Yuna because Shane had insisted that was an important opening night ritual.
They’d driven together to the arena, stopping at the end of Willa and Andrew’s driveway to get a pep talk and to read their sign. This time it had saidShane Hollander + Ilya Rozanov =and then what had looked like a crude drawing of the Stanley Cup.
It had been a perfect day. Ilya was looking forward to ten more years of them.
“You look good,” Ilya said now. “Even with that stupid logo.”
Shane glanced down at his jersey. “It’s growing on me.”
