“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 tohelp 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?”
“Yuna’s got him,” David said, which they both understood meant Shane had all the help he needed.
Ilya held out his left wrist and David held it carefully in one hand. A surge of jumbled emotions rose in Ilya as he watched him carefully thread the cuff link through the crisp white material of Ilya’s dress shirt. There was no way Ilya’s father would have been there, even if he had still been alive—and Ilya wouldn’t have wanted him to be—but having David here, helping him get ready, was nice. More than nice.
“We could only have one child,” David said quietly. “We thought about adopting, but we decided in the end to just focus on making Shane the best person we could. I think we did an okay job of it.”
Ilya smiled at the understatement.
“We couldn’t be prouder of the man he’s become,” David continued. “I don’t have any Stanley Cup rings, but I have Shane.”
Ilya swallowed. “I’ll take care of him.”
