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Ilya Rozanov walked into the locker room shining like the fucking sun. It was almost unhinged how happy he looked, and Cliff couldn’t help but pump a fist in the air in triumph.
“Rozy’s got Jane face, boys, we’re in for a good practice today!”
A collective cheer went up in the room and, proving the point entirely, Roz didn’t even tell them all to fuck off. He only smiled wider, the tips of his ears going pink as he stashed his phone and pulled off his shirt, dressing for practice.
The number of Jane days had noticeably increased over the past season. The good days were interspersed with a strange, quiet melancholy, but overall Rozy seemed happier and… settled, maybe. More soft smiles down at his phone while texting. Ducking out to take phone calls that were always answered with a tender “hey.” Leaving the bars and clubs early in the night without so much as a kiss on the dance floor. Leaving town every time they had more than two days off. The new Roz was less wild, sure, but he seemed to have traded it for something deeper. For Jane, Cliff would bet anything.
Cliff lowered his voice and leaned in. “Jane in town or something?”
“No, no, just got off the phone before I walked in,” Rozy said. “I am having whole weekend with Jane during our next few days off, though. Time together before playoffs.”
“Ooh, she flying into Boston for a bit? Lucky man,” Cliff said with an elbow to Rozy’s ribs.
Beside Cliff, Vic leaned over. “Don’t suppose we get to meet your mysterious Jane this time around?”
Something in Rozy’s expression dimmed a bit, but his words were light as ever.
“You are joking. I have only forty-eight hours with Jane and you think I will spend it introducing you losers?” He snorted. “No, no, no, if all goes according to plan Jane will not be leaving my bed until it’s time to go back to the airport.”
Rozy finished tying his skates and stood, clapping three times. “Come on, let’s go, boys!”
Practice commenced. And, as the Jane face promised, it was pretty okay. No tyrannical behavior, just normal Rozy, fun but focused.
It was after practice that Cliff started to have a problem.
As soon as they walked out of the showers, the first thing Rozy did was grab his phone, grin down and it, and begin to type furiously.
“What’s Jane up to?” Cliff said as he pulled on a shirt, leaning over to attempt a peek at Rozy’s screen. Rozy turned away, thumbs still tapping away.
“No, is group chat with Jane’s parents. I am their favorite child, of course. Getting recipes from them for this weekend.”
Group chat with the parents? That was serious serious. And recipes for the weekend…
“Sounds like you’re making some, uh… special plans,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “You finally making an honest woman out of Jane?”
Rozy’s face fell and he shook his head, setting his phone back down.
“No, no, nothing like that. It can’t be that.”
Maybe Cliff would have let it go if Rozy hadn’t sounded so deeply regretful about it. Maybe he would have clapped Rozy on the shoulder and said something like “sounds rough, buddy” and invited him out for a burger. But he’d never heard Rozy sound so completely sad about something, not even when he was deep in a bottle of vodka at 2 AM.
Cliff couldn’t let it go.
“So, she’s just a girlfriend. Whose parents you talk to regularly,” he said in disbelief as he finished dressing and grabbed his car keys. “Haven’t you two been getting together since like 2011?”
Prying about Jane almost never got him anywhere, but something in Rozy’s expression told him to keep pushing this time. To his surprise, it worked.
“2010, but interested in each other since 2009. But it was only casual until last year.”
“When last year, like January? You stopped taking people home after the All Star Game, it seemed.”
“Yes. Then. We didn’t actually, how do you say, label it until summer, but we were exclusive after All Stars.”
“So, you’re telling me you’ve been seeing each other for like eight years. It finally got serious over a year ago. You’ve met her parents and they love you.”
“Yes. All true.”
“But you don’t have a ring for her.”
“No.”
He studied Roz’s flushed cheeks and avoiding eyes as they walked out to the parking lot together, thinking of the little smile he had when he looked down at his phone, the way he huffed tiny laughs at Jane’s jokes, the quiet happiness he had been nursing for the past year. He’d never seen Rozy better.
Cliff could not abide this situation.
“Get in my fucking car, Roz.”
Rozy’s head whipped up, brow furrowed.
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Just do it,” Cliff said, yanking his car door open.
“Where do—”
“NOW, Roz.”
“Okay, okay, fuck, calm the fuck down. I’m getting in the car.”
Cliff started the engine and drove in silence with single-minded focus, a destination in mind that he’d passed nearly every day since moving to his new apartment three years ago. Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside a building with a pale stone facade and bright front windows filled with glittering displays.
A jewelry store.
“Get out of the car,” Cliff said.
Roz hesitated. “Marly—”
“Get. Out. Of the car.”
Roz got out of the car. Cliff led the way to the front of the store and turned to Roz with a dead serious expression, no bullshit. He pointed at the front door.
“You are buying a fucking ring today. Right now. I will stand here and watch you until you do it.”
For the briefest moment, Roz looked absolutely devastated before he quickly covered it over with layers of Slavic indifference.
“We cannot get married, Marly. There are reasons.”
Cliff shook his head. He’d prepared for this.
“Even if you can’t get married right now for whatever reason, asking still matters. It’s still another level. You both deserve that after all this time. You love her.”
Roz barely hesitated before he admitted it. “Yes. More than anything.”
“You want to be with her? Permanently?”
“Yes.”
“Does girlfriend feel like a big enough label for what you have?”
A strange look flitted across Roz’s face before settling on a small, pained smile.
“No.”
“Then you are going to fucking sack up and buy her a ring.”
Roz walked a few paces away and ran his hands over the sides of his hair, smoothing down his curls. When he finally turned back, his eyes were guarded.
“This is not going to go how you think it is, Marly.”
Marlow simply folded his arms and nodded to the front door as if to say get on with it. Roz studied him carefully, something cautious and brittle in his expression.
“You will not tell anyone about this? No one can know.”
What the fuck?
Cliff shrugged.
“If that’s what it takes for you to walk out of here with a ring, then yes, I swear.”
Roz watched him for another long beat, then pushed his way through the front door and straight to a display case filled with glittering diamonds and polished bands. He bypassed the kinds of rings Cliff had expected him to go for right away—anything big, flashy, or elaborate got passed right over. A woman behind the desk walked up, a customer service smile fixed on her face.
“Hello, welcome in! Anything in particular I can help you find today?”
“Ah, no, I think I will know it when I see it,” Rozy said. “But thank you.”
“Of course!” the woman said. “So you know, we do have some additional inventory in the back, so if there’s something that’s close but not quite right, let me know. I might have something that’s just right.”
Rozy nodded, gazing down into the case. It was hard to tell what, exactly, he was looking at. He seemed to have skipped the engagement rings entirely.
“Wanna tell me a bit about what you’re looking for?” Cliff asked, expecting no answer.
Rozy hummed.
“Something simple,” was all he said.
After about ten minutes of staring silently into the cases, Roz finally signaled to the woman.
“This one here that’s shiny on the edges, with the little hidden stone inside. Do you have in yellow gold?”
The woman lit up. “We do! Hang tight for one moment. I’ll be right back.”
The woman disappeared into the back, and Cliff couldn’t help but be nosy. He hovered over Rozy’s shoulder, peering down into the case, looking for the ring that had caught his eye. Finally, he saw one that had polished beveled edges, a brushed texture along the raised center of the band, and a small hidden stone on the inside, in roughly the location Rozy had pointed to. It was nestled among a display of men’s wedding rings.
Oh.
Oh.
Men’s rings.
Jane was a man.
Suddenly everything had new context.
We cannot get married. There are reasons. No one can know.
Ilya Rozanov wanted to marry a man.
The woman reappeared with a small velvet box, which she opened and set on the counter in front of Rozy. He reached for it, then hesitated.
“May I take it out?” he asked.
The woman waved a hand. “Of course! Please do.”
Rozy reached into the box and plucked the ring free, tilting it back and forth under the lights, rubbing his thumb gently along the polished edge and peeking at the small diamond nestled on the inside of the band. It would be hidden while worn. Why would anyone want the diamond of an engagement ring to be hidden?
But he took in Rozy’s pensive expression and thought back through his history with Jane. Carefully guarded texts. Clandestine meetups. Vague statements. Secretive smiles.
Maybe a hidden stone was perfect after all.
“This is the one,” Rozy said, looking down at the ring with a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll take it.”
“Wonderful!” the woman said with an indulgent smile. “Do you know what size you need?”
“Ah, no,” Rozy said, looking abashed. He looked down at his own hand, thinking for a moment. “I think maybe my same size, though? Can I exchange if I’m wrong?”
“Of course! Let’s get your size, then, and we’ll go from there.”
They fiddled with some ring sizers for a moment, checked that the correct size was in stock, and before long Rozy had his card out, handing it over without hesitation. The ring box was placed in a fancy little bag along with the receipt, pleasantries exchanged, and then they were done, out the door and into the early April chill. Cliff drifted through the whole process, a silent witness, until they ended up back in the car side-by-side. After a minute, Cliff rolled his head to look over at Rozy.
“What’s his real name?” he asked.
After a very long moment, Ilya finally answered: “Shane.”
Shane.
And surely there were many Shanes in Montreal, but there was one that made too much sense, once all the pieces were laid out. Cliff wrestled to keep his face neutral.
“Did I just force you to buy an engagement ring for the Shane Hollander?” he asked.
Rozy huffed a sharp breath. “You really did.”
Cliff gave a small laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“You’re going to ask Shane Hollander to marry you.”
“I guess I am.”
Cliff paused. “Do you not want to?”
“I do. Very much.” Rozy hesitated, and when he continued, his voice was subdued. “But I am worried he’ll say no. That it’s too dangerous. That we can’t until we retire. That was the original plan.”
Cliff’s heart ached sharply at the idea of waiting so long. At the idea of Rozy, who loved his friends and his team so loudly, having to keep his love for Shane silent and hidden. It wasn’t fair. It was cruel. Cliff cleared the sudden thickness in his throat.
“Well, if that’s the case, then you just tell him you’ll hold onto the ring until then,” he said. “But that it’ll be waiting for him whenever he wants it. You’ll still make your point. That he’s more than a boyfriend to you. That you’re serious.”
Rozy nodded, staring down at the bag in his lap. “I do want him to know that whenever he feels ready, whenever he feels safe, I intend to marry him. And I am moving teams to be closer to him next year. It would feel good to say I am doing it for… my fiancé. I will do it regardless, but… I would like this very much. Even if we do not actually marry for years, I would like him to have my ring.”
Cliff had expected the news; the fact that Rozy hadn’t already re-signed with Boston this late in the season was all but confirmation he had plans to go elsewhere in his free agency. If anything, it was comforting, knowing he had such a good reason for leaving. The love of his life. Montreal Jane.
Shane Hollander.
“Then you better start practicing your proposal speech, brother,” Cliff said. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you back to your car and you can tell me all about how you’re gonna pop the question.”
###
Cliff was very proud of himself for not texting Rozy once the entire weekend. He spent most of it in an anxious spiral, waiting for word from Roz about his proposal, imagining worst case scenarios, followed by somehow even worse worst case scenarios. What if Shane said no? What if Shane broke up with Rozy because it went so badly? What if Roz hated Cliff for pressuring him into the whole thing? What if he couldn’t stand to even look at Cliff and it was so bad he decided to move back to Russia and play for the KHL instead, never to set foot on North American soil again?
Cliff stress-baked a tray of brownies and ate half the tray by himself before wising up and inviting Connors and Vic over to eat the rest. They were fortunately too focused on brownies and Chel to notice how much of a nervous wreck Cliff was. Finally, during a break between games, Cliff’s phone buzzed.
Roz
He said yes
Cliff leaped off the couch and punched the air, nearly upending Connors in the process.
“What the fuck, man?” Connors complained, holding his drink up and away to protect it.
“Oh, uh… nothing,” Cliff said, thumbs flying over his phone keyboard. “Just gonna get a new drink.”
He left behind his half-full whiskey as he darted into the kitchen.
Cliff
Congrats brother
Proud of you
I wanna hear all about it tomorrow
Go be with your man
Roz
♥
Thank you, Marly
Cliff
Anytime
Cliff couldn't wait to tell this story at their wedding. Hopefully as part of a best man's speech.
Whether it would be in a few months or a few years, Cliff would be there.