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Rose Landry has attended a ton of events. Tedious events. Exciting events. Events that made her toes curl with anticipation. Events that bored her to tears.
She has never been to an event with no chairs before.
But, for Shane, she would endure a thousand blisters and hours of aching feet. She’s the first one to clap when Ilya dips Shane into a kiss at the altar, and she starts the first (of many) kiss toasts once the champagne starts flowing.
She waits patiently through the speeches – Hayden’s is heartfelt, Cliff’s is funny, and Yuna’s is devastating in the best way possible. Svetlana gives half of hers in Russian. Ilya cries.
And then it’s Rose’s turn.
“Hi,” she says after Svetlana hands her the microphone, “for those who don’t know me, I’m Rose.”
That gets more than a few disbelieving stares. Okay, more than three quarters of the crowd has probably seen her movies. But this is a wedding speech, and intros are a crucial part of the wedding speech structure – she consulted several of her favorite script writers about this.
Rose grins. “If you didn’t see it in TMZ or People Magazine, I dated Shane a few years ago.”
Cue a loud scoff from Ilya, which Shane loudly shushes.
Rose continues, “It was big news – Shane’s first public girlfriend after he became a professional hockey player with the NHL, and my fifth gay boyfriend – although nobody knew that part yet. Not me, and certainly not Shane.”
As everyone laughs, Shane buries his face in his hands.
“When we bonded over a plate of salt cod fritters – fritters neither us should have been eating on our diets, strictly speaking – I didn’t know I had just met my future best friend and one of the best people in the world, and, yes, I am including Tom Hanks and Hugh Jackman in this list.” She shrugs apologetically. “Hollywood actor, here, I am legally required to name drop at least once in this speech. Anyway, Shane has got nothing on those guys.”
Shane makes mildly disgruntled noises at the compliments while Ilya just nods along, seriously agreeing with everything Rose is saying.
“But Shane and I were not meant to last,” Rose continues sadly. “Our love story ended at a bar in Old Montreal. I’d been getting… vibes from Shane. A lot of the same vibes I’d gotten from my last boyfriend, who I caught making out with the newest Spider-man at our wrap party.”
A hockey player - the Centaurs’ goalie? - lets out a loud gasp, and Rose lipreads his stunned, “Braden Birman?”
She points. “This guy knows what I’m talking about.” She waits as the group of Centaurs hoots and hollers, playfully shoving the goalie. “Anyway, Shane was trying so hard to like me. It was, like, painfully cute how hard he tried, so I figured, the least I could do was spare him as much embarrassment as possible.”
“Oh no,” Shane groans.
Rose ignores him. “So, I came out for Shane.”
The crowd laughs.
“I forget exactly what I said,” she says offhandedly, “something about square pegs and round holes –”
“Rose!” Shane hisses as Ilya practically doubles over in his chair, wheezing for breath.
Rose goes on, “But the gist was how we weren’t compatible on a basic level. I could see it, and Shane needed to see this too.” For the first time, she addresses Ilya. “And then I asked him if he’d ever been with a man before.”
Ilya straightens, his eyes narrowing in on her.
“Shane nodded, and I asked him if it was different with a guy, if it was better – and Shane nodded again. And he smiled. For the first time since we sat down in that bar, he smiled. Not his camera-ready smile, not his confident Captain smile, but his real smile.” She turns, and sure enough, that’s the one Shane is wearing right now.
“That one,” she says out loud, pointing.
Shane goes brilliantly red.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but Shane was obviously thinking of the one man on Earth who was a better lay than I was –”
The assembled hockey players go fuck wild.
Shane looks like he’d really like to flee this entire wedding and jump into a lake. Ilya, though, Ilya looks like he’s having the best day of his life.
“So, Ilya, I know we didn’t get off on the right foot. For some reason, you were weirdly jealous of me, even though your fiance was as gay as a double rainbow.”
Shane goes, “Ha!” and elbows Ilya in the side.
“But just know,” Rose starts again as the laughs die down, “every time you see that special, genuine smile on your husband’s face, that’s yours. You put it there, and you’re the only person in the world who can.”
Ilya gives Shane a look that makes Rose’s insides go all melty, so she turns to survey the crowd. “And to all the gay hockey players here – you can get my number from Shane. I’m just one away from a double hat trick of gay boyfriends. Then I get a free pride pin.”
Shane shakes his head, smiling. “Rose, no!”
“Rose, yes,” she says without missing a beat. She lifts her glass. “So, to Shane and Ilya!”
“Shane and Ilya!”
Rose would really like to sit down, but she can’t find any goddamn chairs, so she just sidles closer to Sveta, the only other ex here. They make idle chit chat as the hockey players swarm the food buffet like a pack of starving animals, and eventually Rose finds herself sandwiched between Cliff and Hayden.
Hayden is telling some long-winded story about his twins – triplets? quadruplets? Rose can’t keep track – and Rose shifts her weight to take the pressure off the worst blister on the back of her heel. Of course, this just moves the pain to her other foot where the side of her pinky toe has been rubbed raw.
“You okay?” Cliff asks in an undertone.
“What? Yeah,” Rose says as she deliberately turns back to Hayden. “Wait, what did Ruby do next?”
Hayden grins and keeps going.
Rose surreptitiously starts looking for an escape route as she rolls one ankle.
“You sure you’re good?” Cliff asks again.
“Yeah,” Rose says. She takes a hearty swig of champagne. No luck on the escape front – Shane and Ilya have disappeared somewhere, probably to make out or worse. Sveta has moved on to charming a whole gaggle of Centaur rookies, who are looking at her like she hung the moon. The only other hockey player she has spoken to before, JJ, is deep in conversation with the Centaurs’ coach and his wife.
“It’s the shoes, right?” Cliff asks as someone calls Hayden’s name and Hayden goes sprinting off, probably to chase after his one hundred children.
Rose grimaces ruefully. “How’d you know?”
“The red bottoms,” Cliff says, to Rose’s surprise. She’d been expecting something commiserating about breaking in new skates.
Cliff just shrugs at her blank look. “My sister has a, and I quote, ‘crippling addiction to Louboutins’ and she’s always complaining whenever she has to stand for more than twenty minutes.”
Rose smiles. “Yeah, these are killer. I don’t know how your sister does it.”
Cliff glances around. “She, uh – look, do you want a ride?”
Rose’s eyebrows fly up into the stratosphere as she valiantly keeps her eyes on his face. “Excuse me?”
Cliff exhales a slow breath, as a steady crush climbs up his cheeks. “I give Liv piggyback rides when her feet hurt.”
“A piggyback ride,” Rose repeats, her voice deadpan.
Cliff rubs the back of his neck as he stares around the backyard, anywhere but at her. “I really don’t know why Roz didn’t spring for chairs. It’s not like he can’t afford it. Everyone knows how much the Cens shelled out for his contract.”
Rose casts an appraising eye over Cliff. He’s big and strong, like most hockey players, and pretty much her type in a nutshell, with a strong jaw and thick, dark hair. She could definitely do worse. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Stunned, Cliff says in a rush, “Wicked. Hop on.” He bends at the knees.
Thank god Rose opted for an a-line dress. Still, with the width of Cliff’s torso, she has zero hope of hooking her ankles together. He gamely cradles her knees in the crook of his elbows instead. “Are you comfortable?” he asks.
“I don’t remember the last time I got a piggyback ride,” she says honestly.
“Not in Time to Shine?”
Rose laughs. “You saw that?” She can’t see his face from this angle, but his massive shoulders tense up at her words. That rom com was one of her earliest movies, aimed towards hormonal teenagers looking to watch other hormonal teenagers on screen.
“Liv likes your movies,” he says stiltedly.
Rose laughs again. “Liv likes ’em, huh?”
He tilts his head so he can see her out of the corner of his eye. “Yup.”
Rose rests her head against the smooth fabric of his suit. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-six,” Cliff says proudly. “She’s trying to make it as a lifestyle influencer.”
Rose giggles. “So, by default, this means you can tell Louboutins from Jimmy Choos?”
“Kinda? I’m still not great at it.”
“Hey, I want to talk to Shane,” she says as she nudges Cliff towards the man in question, walking out from behind a large tree, out of view of the twinkling lights Yuna hung up yesterday afternoon. Ilya follows, holding his hand.
Cliff gamely strides over.
“Oh,” Ilya says as they approach. He eyes them up and down, a smirk spreading across his face. “This, this I did not expect.”
“Hi, Rose, Marlow,” Shane says curiously.
“You could do so much better, Landry,” Ilya tuts.
Cliff hisses, “Fuck off, Roz.”
“My feet hurt,” Rose says defensively. “And Cliff was a gentleman, who came up with a novel solution. Plus, I really don’t think it’s Cliff’s fault that there are zero chairs for more than a hundred people.”
“Sorry,” Shane says at once. “We’d never planned a wedding before. To be honest, I thought we’d have a lot fewer attendees.”
“That’s because you sent the invitations like three weeks ago.” Rose rolls her eyes. “You guys are such jocks.”
“Hey!” Ilya and Cliff protest at once as Shane just shakes his head in resigned agreement.
“And such men,” Rose sniffs. “Always have to do everything yourselves even if you know nothing about events.”
“She’s got us there,” Cliff rumbles underneath her. “Remember Hammy’s surprise party your first season as captain?”
Ilya groans. “Do not remind me of that day,” he says before launching into the tale himself because Ilya can never resist telling a good story, and everyone here is basically his captive audience.
All too soon, Yuna calls Shane and Ilya back to the party for their first dance as a married couple.
Rose half expects Cliff to set her down, but he jogs after the pair of grooms like Rose weighs as much as a novelty Bluey backpack, and the casual show of strength does things to her.
Fuck it all, she has got to stop dating actors. Their muscles are all for show, and they usually have zero stamina, since they lift weights all day and only do sprints for cardio like psychopaths.
Rose, in a time honored Hollywood tradition, relies on her genetics for her good looks. No reliable gym schedule for her, no siree.
The one time Shane got her on the ice for anything more than lazy circles around the rink, she (fake) cried until he let her stop, and he even drank hot chocolate with her because he felt so bad. Victory had never tasted so sweet and so much like full fat milk.
Cliff sets her down, so she can join in on the dancing. “Let me know if you need another break, okay?”
“Okay,” Rose agrees easily. She half expects that to be that, but Cliff keeps checking in on her, after the mother-son dance, after the macarena (Ilya’s nonnegotiable song request), after the cake cutting.
It would have been very annoying if it wasn’t really sweet.
Cliff approaches her as the first slow dance comes on.
At the same time as he asks, “Do you want to dance?” she demurs, “I’m fine, really thanks.”
His face colors with embarrassment, gaze dropping to the floor faster than Shane’s wrist shot.
Oh god. Did he actually ask her to dance? He is the cutest. “I mean,” Rose says loudly as her champagne bubbly brain catches up with Cliff’s words, “yes, I would like to dance.”
“Wha – oh, okay, awesome!” he says as he holds out his hand. “Give ’em here.”
“What?”
“Your shoes,” Cliff says, a little impatiently. “You can step on my feet – less chance of being trampled on.”
Rose gapes at him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She leans over to slip off her shoes. As her bare feet settle on top of his loafers, she says, “I don’t think I’ve ever done this outside of a movie.”
“No slow dances at prom or anything?” Cliff asks curiously.
Rose shakes her head. “I was homeschooled for junior and senior year while filming Degrassi.”
They keep talking in a low murmur throughout the song, and keep dancing for a few more songs after that. Cliff is… not especially graceful on the dancefloor, but Rose can’t really follow a beat unless she is working with a click track, so at least they’re both equally inept.
When the music lulls so everyone can eat a slice of cake, the goalie, Wyatt Hayes, sweeps Rose up in an enthusiastic conversation about the newest X-Squad movie. She gamely talks shop with him until the dancing starts again.
When Wyatt leaves to find his wife, Rose searches for Cliff, still holding her pair of Louboutins. She finds him talking with Troy Barrett, but Barrett excuses himself as she approaches. Cliff turns to her with a smile. He starts, “Hey! Do you want to dan –”
“Do you want to get out of here?” Rose asks loudly.
Cliff looks like Rose hit him with a high stick. Several high sticks, in fact.
“I –” he stammers, eyes wide.
“Oh,” Rose says, her face heating embarrassingly fast. Maybe she was awful at this. She could’ve sworn Cliff was giving her all the right signs, though, like looking down her dress five times during a four-minute slow dance. She swallows. “I thought –”
“Yes, let’s leave.” Cliff says in a rush. “Like now,”
“Oh –” Rose breaks off as the awful doubt refuses to completely retreat from the pit of her stomach. “I’ll be right back. Have to talk to Ilya. Ask him something.”
“Ask him what?” Cliff says, her red bottomed shoes dangling from his callused fingers by their cursed heel straps. “He’s not my captain anymore. You don’t need to get his –”
“I’ll be right back!” Rose says again as she sprints to where Ilya is refilling his champagne.
He looks up, raising one questioning eyebrow as she skids to a stop in front of him.
“Please, please, tell me he’s not gay,” Rose pleads.
Ilya takes a beat to register her words before he bursts out laughing.
“Not helpful,” she grumbles.
“If you want helpful, you should have gone to Shane,” Ilya says, still chuckling.
“But you’re his friend,” Rose whines.
“And you’re Rose Landry. Shouldn’t you know by now which ones are not… compatible?”
She scowls. “I literally just made a whole speech about how shit my gaydar is, which you are benefitting from, I’ll remind you. You owe me.”
Ilya takes a leisurely sip of champagne. “Go fuck the Captain of the Bears. He is much better for you than the Captain of the Voyageurs. Well,” he amends, “their last captain. God knows, Marly is going to need it, if the Bears play like they did last season.”
“Ugh, fine,” Rose groans. “But if I have bad sex tonight, I’m blaming you.” She turns to go, and walks straight into Shane’s hard chest.
“Do I want to know what I just interrupted?” Shane asks curiously.
“Nope,” she says, at the same time Ilya explains, “Landry is checking that Marly does not secretly like dick.”
“Ilya!” Rose hisses.
“I don’t think he does?” Shane says, but he phrases it like a question.
Ilya releases a dramatic sigh. “Is good you both have me. You two are hopeless.” He gives her a little shove back towards Cliff. “You have your instructions. Go complete the play, Landry.”
“Ugh.” Rose makes a face. “Not everything is hockey!”
“Everything is about hockey,” Ilya says solemnly. “Except hockey, which is about sex.”
Rose trades a bemused look with Shane. “That makes no sense.”
“I think it’s a meme?” Shane shrugs. “Luca is very online.”
“God help us if Ilya’s learning obscure memes on top of his normal ones now,” Rose says as she hugs Shane tightly. She turns to Ilya, leans in close as if to hug him too, and steals his champagne.
She downs it in one gulp over his noises of mild outrage. “Wish me luck, boys!” she calls as she backs away.
Shane grins. “Like you need it!”
Ilya cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “He is not gay, Landry! And remember to use protection!”
Several heads swivel around at his words, and Rose just flips Ilya the bird before rejoining Cliff.
“Uh, you still wanna get outta here?” Cliff asks, looking askance at Ilya, now dancing enthusiastically to Cascada.
“Ignore him,” Rose says brusquely as she reaches for her shoes. “He has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Amen to that,” Cliff says with a large smile. “And if you think I’m letting you put these back on, you’re delusional.”
“What?” is all Rose can get out before Cliff sweeps her up into an actual princess carry. “Oh!” She relaxes back in his arms, grinning.
Huh. Maybe chairs are overrated after all.