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"Was a terrible call," Ilya grumbled, crossing his arms.
"I agree," Shane replied.
"Ref needs to get his eyes checked," Ilya said, still fuming. "Offsides my ass."
"Ilya, I know, but it's fine," Shane said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"And if this loses us a spot in the playoffs?" Ilya asked seriously.
"Ilya," Shane said, fighting back a smile. "They're five. The team is called the Bunnies. There are no playoffs."
"Daddy! Papochka! Did you see me? I almost scored a goal!" their son exclaimed as he skated over excitedly.
He hadn't, but both men grinned proudly.
"We saw, moy solnyshko," Ilya said, crouching down to his level. "You are superstar."
"Maksim," the coach called from across the ice. "We're almost done, but I need you with the team."
"Go on over there, buddy," Shane said, giving him an encouraging pat.
"Okay! Love you!" he called, skating off shakily toward his team.
Ilya cleared his throat, and Shane caught the emotion there.
"You okay?" Shane asked softly.
"Just happy," Ilya said, his voice thick. "There are still hard days. But I have everything I want. Is perfect."
"Perfect, huh?" Shane asked, a small smile playing at his lips. "Nothing could make it better?"
"Shane," Ilya said, turning to look at him suspiciously. "What do you know?"
"The agency called this morning," Shane said, his voice trembling slightly. "Her name is Sofia. She's eighteen months old, and she's ours if we're ready."
Ilya froze, his eyes going wide. "Sofia?" he whispered.
"Sofia," Shane confirmed, his own eyes glistening.
"Eighteen months?" Ilya's voice cracked. "We...we have daughter?"
"We have a daughter," Shane said with a watery smile.
Ilya let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, pulling Shane into a tight embrace right there by the rink. "Moya doch'," he whispered into Shane's shoulder. "My daughter. Sofia."
"So, is it still perfect?" Shane asked, his voice muffled against Ilya's jacket. "Or is it better?"
Ilya pulled back, cupping Shane's face in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Is better than perfect. Is everything."
"Daddy, Papochka, why are you crying?" Maksim asked, skating back over with concern. "It's okay that we lost. It's how we learn. That's what Coach Patrick said."
"Coach Patrick is right," Shane said, wiping his eyes. "But these are happy tears, Maks."
"Oh. I'm glad you're happy," Maksim said, clearly still confused.
"You will be too, moy solnyshko. I hope," Ilya said, kneeling down to his son's level. "You are going to be big brother."
"Oh. How? Henry's mom grew a baby in her tummy, but I don't think boys can do that," Maksim said thoughtfully.
"You are right about that," Ilya said, laughing warmly.
"You remember about adoption? How Papochka and I chose you to be our son because we wanted you so much?" Shane asked gently.
Maksim nodded, his little face serious.
"Well, it's the same thing with your sister," Shane said.
"Oh, that makes sense. Can we go get her now?" Maksim asked eagerly.
"Not for a few weeks, buddy. But we have lots to get ready. How about we go get some ice cream and make a plan?" Shane said.
"Okay!" Maksim said with a bright smile, already bouncing on his skates.
"Go change and we will be waiting," Ilya said, ruffling his son's hair affectionately.
"Are we ready for this?" Shane asked quietly.
"No," Ilya said honestly. "But is adventure. I think is best thing to happen. Dads again."
"Dads again," Shane said with a soft smile, then kissed his husband.
"Now come on. I am ready for hot fudge sundae with extra sprinkles," Ilya said, lacing his fingers with Shane's.
"Ugh, you're worse than Maks," Shane said, shaking his head fondly.
"Is celebration!" Ilya protested with a grin.
They walked hand in hand toward the locker room, ready to pick up their son and celebrate their daughter and all the beautiful chaos that lay ahead.
Perfect.
No. Better than perfect.