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Both of them would deny it, but Shane and Ilya drew straws when it came to putting their kids to bed at night.
See, down the hall of their Ottawa home there were two bedrooms. In one resided their eight-year-old son; their beautiful, energetic boy who still called out multiple impassioned I love yous at the school gate. In the other, chaos awaited them in the form of their twelve- and fifteen-year-old daughters; who had been given plenty of opportunities for separate bedrooms and turned them all down, despite wanting to maim each other on a daily basis.
Shane and Ilya didn’t draw literal straws to determine who got whom ready for bed. Their methods varied depending on the night. If Ilya cooked, Shane tackled the girls’ room. If Shane was already overstimulated, it was Ilya’s turn. These decisions happened automatically nowadays, invisible tally marks keeping the score, a system determined following numerous discussions over the years: I did the school pick up. — I did the “no tattoos ‘til you’re twenty” conversation. — I’m having a bad day and you know it.
They loved their fiery, spirited, rambunctious daughters more than anything. Of course they did. Ilya just wished, as he made his way down the hallway, that their girls could get along.
Shane stopped at Nikolai’s door, turning a wink on Ilya and laughing when Ilya’s head fell back, a mock-whine escaping his pouting lips.
‘Holler if you need me,’ Shane told him.
‘Oh, I’ll holler,’ Ilya replied over his shoulder.
Still, Ilya set his shoulders and continued to his daughters’ bedroom. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Shane asking Nikolai if his teeth were brushed. Ahead of him, he could already make out the beginnings of an argument.
‘I told you not to touch my stuff!’
‘It’s not like you paid for it.’
‘I wish Dad and Papa hadn’t paid for you!’
‘Ugh, get a new line, Marina.’
Ilya sighed and pushed the door open. ‘Remember when you girls were little and you would make houses out of the blankets and have sleepovers in the living room?’ Both girls paused their argument to look at him incredulously. Ilya nodded to himself. ‘Da, I miss those days.’
‘What, you don’t knock anymore?’ Marina asked. ‘What if we were getting changed for bed?’
Ilya shook his head. ‘You were too busy telling your sister you wish we had never adopted her. You cannot do that and get changed for bed at same time.’
To her credit, Marina’s face did pinken a little at the direct callout. Ilya fixed her with a look until she grumbled a half-hearted apology.
Turning his attention to Charlie, Ilya asked, ‘You were touching Marina’s things? You do not have enough of your own things?’
‘I was just sending myself a photo Marina took of the sunset. For my story.’
‘That’s—’ Ilya started.
‘Who cares about your stupid story?’ Marina snapped. ‘You only have, like, six followers.’
‘Because she is twelve,’ Ilya tried again. ‘She is not allowed to have more than—’
Charlie stood up on her bed, pointing her finger like a constable as she shouted, ‘I saw a picture of Marina kissing a boy! It’s on her camera roll!’
‘Charlotte!’
‘Don’t call me that!’
‘God, you’re such a little—’
Ilya clapped his hands together, loud enough to get both girls’ attention yet not as loud as his heartbeat racing in his ears; not as loud as the words: Marina kissing a boy.
‘That is enough,’ Ilya told them both. ‘Charlie, go brush your teeth please. I want to speak to your sister.’
‘I already brushed them,’ Charlie said, with the air of someone who absolutely had not brushed her teeth but wanted to stick around to watch her sister get scolded.
Ilya raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’
Sighing in defeat, Charlie stepped down from her bed and out the door.
That taken care of, Ilya went to sit beside his fifteen-year-old daughter atop her pink and green bedspread. He chewed his lip and tried to mask the adrenaline coursing through his veins when he calmly asked, ‘So, where did you meet this boy?’
Marina groaned. ‘Papa.’
‘I’m only saying you can talk to me about these things. Or your dad.’ Ilya tucked the dark curtain of Marina’s hair behind her ear. ‘We are here for you, sweetheart. And we want to hear about what goes on in your life.’
‘I don’t think you want to hear about this,’ Marina muttered.
Ilya frowned, a billion possibilities coursing through his head. ‘Why would we not?’
With a heavy sigh, Marina turned to face Ilya, looking so young and wide-eyed it made Ilya want to cradle her in his arms—something she was undoubtedly too big for.
‘Okay, you want to know?’ Marina watched Ilya nod, none of his confusion clearing at her serious approach. ‘It happened when I went to visit Aunt Rose in New York.’
Ilya’s nerves spiked but he was okay, he was so okay with having this conversation with his baby daughter. Forcing a smile on his face, Ilya told himself he could do this. He was a cool dad. When it was Marina’s turn to host sleepovers he was always caught up on the gossip and shifts in group dynamics. Shane was always saying how good he was at listening, at making their children feel heard.
Ilya tried to cling to this knowledge as he nudged Marina’s arm. ‘Was a New Years kiss? That is so sweet.’
‘Well, yes.’ Marina shifted, twirling her hair nervously. Ilya hadn’t seen her do that in so long. ‘Only, we’re kind of seeing each other now. Well, we’re texting, but we hung out a lot while I was in New York.’
‘How much is a lot? You were supposed to be with Rose.’
‘Yeah, but she gets it,’ Marina said dismissively. ‘She wasn’t offended or put-out.’
‘I do not care if she was offended, she was supposed to be watching you,’ said Ilya. He resolved to text a certain movie star once the kids were all in bed.
‘We were fine!’ Marina insisted. ‘She knows— Well, me and this boy… it would be complicated if people found out about us. There would be… articles.’
Ilya snorted. ‘I would think that if anyone knows how that feels, it would be me and your dad.’
When Marina still looked hesitant, Ilya leaned in closer, squeezing her wrist. ‘Hey, you can tell me. You can always tell me anything. Who is this boy?’
Marina seemed to steel herself, taking a deep breath and setting her shoulders—so much like Shane—before she said, ‘It’s Julian Hunter.’
Ilya heard the name but didn’t process it. ‘Julian Hunter. Why does that sound familiar? Oh! Your boyfriend has the same name as Scott Hunter’s…’ Ilya trailed off as he put the pieces together. ‘Oh, no. No. No, no, no. Shane. Hollander! Hollander, I’m hollering! I’m hollering, get in here!’
‘What?’ Shane shouted down the hall, slippered footsteps getting louder on the tiled floor as he approached. He froze in the doorway, taking in Ilya’s new position—standing with his hands on top of his head. His sharp gaze cut to Marina, hugging a pillow and looking genuinely apologetic for once. Shane made an impatient gesture. ‘What happened?’
‘Tell him what you just told me,’ Ilya told Marina.
Marina grimaced. ‘MmdatinJulenHunter.’
Shane blinked rapidly. ‘One more time?’
‘I’m dating Julian Hunter,’ Marina repeated, making sure to enunciate. ‘We’ve been together since New Years.’
Ilya watched Shane compute these facts in real time, a thousand micro-thoughts racing through his mind while his face remained motionless.
Disappointingly, Shane’s reaction was a mild, ‘Okay. Thank you for telling us.’ Nothing more.
‘Thank you for telling us?’ Ilya echoed in disbelief. ‘That is all?’
‘I don’t have a problem with it,’ said Shane. ‘Julian’s a good kid, and Marina can date whoever she wants to. So long as she’s being responsible and knows she can come to us about anything, right?’ he checked with Marina.
‘I mean, he’s in New York. It’s not like anything physical can happen.’
‘A little less disappointment in your voice when you say that would be nice,’ Shane grumbled.
Marina smirked. ‘Sorry, Dad.’
Ilya crossed his arms. ‘He is too old for her.’
‘What?’ Marina demanded.
Shane shook his head. ‘You’re thinking of their other boy, Jamie. He’s eighteen. Julian’s the same age as Marina.’
Oh. This deflated Ilya somewhat. He liked the Hunter boys. The older one, Jamie, still came to the camps in the summer to help out. Ilya’s memories of Julian weren’t so fresh, but when he’d attended the camp as a kid he’d shown a lot of promise—he’d been kind to the other kids, back then.
It helped to have this context, though Ilya was far from reassured. ‘This boy kissed you in the middle of Times Square?’
‘Among other places,’ Marina confirmed wryly. ‘We dressed up in disguises so the tabloids wouldn’t see us. I promise we were careful.’
Ilya pursed his lips. ‘Big, public, dramatic kiss. Typical Hunter.’
‘Ilya,’ Shane warned.
‘What? I’m just pointing out unique family trait.’ Ilya sniffed derisively. ‘Though, it would seem ours is picking boyfriends who are ah, controversy?’
‘Controversial,’ Shane corrected Ilya reflexively, then registered what he’d said. ‘Julian Hunter is hardly controversial, Ilya.’
‘He is the offspring of our competition,’ Ilya argued.
‘So are the Pike kids,’ Shane reminded him.
Ilya waved him off. ‘We forgive them because they are very cute.’
‘Well, Julian’s kinda—’ Marina began.
Ilya cried out. ‘If you say what you are about to say my head will explode.’
Biting down on a smile, Marina nodded. ‘You got it, Papa. Not a peep.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ilya, just before two sets of footsteps heralded the return of Charlie and Nikolai.
‘Papa, smell my breath!’ Niko demanded, leaping into Ilya’s waiting embrace.
Ilya hoisted Niko in his arms, theatrically sniffing and nodding in approval. ‘Otlichnaya rabota, my boy. Such clean teeth. Great job.’
Nikolai giggled as Ilya set him back on his feet. He turned his attention to his youngest daughter and asked, ‘What are we going to do before touching anyone else’s belongings?’
Charlie rolled her eyes. ‘Ask.’
‘Perfect.’ Ilya beamed at Shane, who smiled softly back.
Parenthood didn’t come with trophies or awards ceremonies to mark great successes. But moments like this, where they felt they had nudged their children a step in the right direction, they were quiet victories. These moments were proof that, all things considered, the Hollander-Rozanovs were doing okay.
A mischievous glint caught in Shane’s eye as he looked at their eldest daughter. ‘Is Julian tagging along to the training camps this summer?’
Marina shrugged. ‘Probably. I mean his dads and Jamie— Wait.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you want to know?’
Shane absently picked a piece of lint off his shoulder. ‘Might be a good opportunity for us to get to know your boyfriend.’
Marina’s jaw actually dropped. Ilya had to hold back a laugh. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, you’re meant to be chill-dad. Papa is crazy-dad with a weird vendetta against Scott Hunter.’
Shane sucked a breath through his teeth. ‘Kid, if you haven’t learned by now that you have two crazy dads, I don’t know what to tell you.’ He dropped a kiss on Marina’s head and caught Charlie in a gentle headlock to do the same. ‘Come on, Niko. Bedtime. Love you girls.’
With that, Shane and Nikolai left the girls’ bedroom, leaving Charlie and Marina looking at Ilya with looks of confusion and terror respectively.
Ilya enjoyed the look on Marina’s face before reassuring her, ‘We will be gentle with him. Bring him to the cottage for dinner one night. I will make sure Dad is on best behaviour.’
Charlie snorted. ‘Please, we all know who’s steering that ship.’
Ilya caught her on her way back to bed, folding her in his arms and tickling her mercilessly until her shrieking giggles turned to silent, airless laughter. Charlie was not quite a teenager, but Ilya could feel moments like this slipping away. He looked at Marina, his baby who was almost sixteen, and felt a swelling ache for her simple childhood.
Dumping Charlie on her bed, Ilya tucked her in like when she was small, kissing her nose for good measure. ‘Goodnight, troublemaker. Ya tebya lyublyu.’
‘Love you too, Papa,’ Charlie whispered.
Ilya made his way back to Marina’s bed, slinging one arm around her. ‘Goodnight, my daughter who kisses boys.’
‘It was a boy,’ Marina said, exasperated. ‘As in just one.’
‘Let me take you for ice cream tomorrow after practice, yes?’ said Ilya. ‘Just you and me, like old times. You can fill me in on Julian and New York and your life.’
Marina softened. ‘Sure. Sounds good.’
‘Good.’ Ilya kissed her hair. ‘Ya tebya lyublyu.’
‘Ya tebya lyublyu, Papa,’ Marina replied, shifting back to fall onto her pillow.
Ilya got up and went to the door, watching her pull her phone out, lip caught between her teeth, eyes already twinkling. He remembered that feeling. ‘Don’t stay up too late,’ he whispered.
‘I won’t.’ Marina groaned, flicking her hand in agitation. ‘Go back to Dad.’
Ilya laughed, closing the door behind him with a click. He ducked his head into Niko’s bedroom to say a quick goodnight and exchange about twenty I love yous, then made his way around the corner to the master bedroom.
Shane was waiting for him, shirtless and leaning against the ensuite door. ‘So, how are we feeling?’
Ilya fell onto the bed in dramatic fashion. ‘I miss my babies. Remember when Marina said she wanted to marry Hiccup from the dragon movies?’
Shane huffed, moving to straddle Ilya’s hips as he did. ‘I remember.’
Ilya sighed. ‘The younger Hunter son kind of looks like him. Hiccup. I hate that I know this.’
Shane’s quiet laughter shook them both. ‘Oh, baby.’
‘If it were some other punk, it would almost be better. I would have somewhere to put these feelings. I could pretend he is not good and she could still be our little girl who needs guidance.’ Ilya blinked up at Shane. ‘We coached the Hunter boys. I remember liking Julian. This is so terrible.’
‘Is it really?’ Shane asked, gentle fingers chucking Ilya beneath his chin.
Ilya sighed. ‘No, is not. The look on her face when she checked her phone tonight, Shane… It was like rookie season all over again.’
‘We didn’t exchange numbers in our rookie season, Ilya.’
‘You know, I preferred it when you left the chirping to me.’
Shane laughed as Ilya rolled Shane under him. ‘What? When have I ever left the chirping to you?’
‘You did not used to be so critical.’ Ilya lazily kissed along Shane’s neck, smiling when it made him squirm. ‘Is the honeymoon phase finally over?’
Shane moaned when Ilya found his pulsepoint, biting at it just lightly. ‘It’ll never be over.’
Ilya beamed, baring his teeth against Shane’s jaw. ‘Not if I can help it.’
—
Marina: I told my parents about you
Marina: well, Charlie told them
Marina: point is they know
Julian: little snitch
Marina: excuse me? 🤨
Julian: kidding.
Julian: I know only you can talk smack about your sister
Marina: that’s what I thought.
Marina: also my dad is probably going to shovel talk you at the next summer training camp 🫣
Julian: shovel talk me? is that a verb?
Julian: wait which dad
Marina: not the one you’re expecting
Julian: fuck.
Julian: well it’s been really fun and all, best of luck for your future, I will not be in it
Marina: Julian
Julian: to be clear this isn’t a break up.
Julian: these are my last words
Julian: I can’t take Hollander
Julian: remember me well
Marina: please, even I could take dad
Julian: you would disarm him with your puppy dog eyes
Julian: unfair advantage
Marina: fuck off
Julian: maybe pops will defend me if I tell him about you
Marina: if he doesn’t find out from one of my dads first
Julian: …shit
Marina: they’re 100% texting your pops rn
Julian: okay, here goes nothing
Julian: wish me luck?
Marina: you don’t need it, I’m a delight
Marina: but take this 🍀
Julian: aw
Julian: that was so cute
Julian: and unexpected
Julian: ❤️
Marina: ❤️
Marina: 🍆💦🫦🍑😩
Julian: there she is