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Svetlana was more than excited about the email she had selected for that recording. In fact, she had been smiling at the computer screen for almost five minutes, her eyes shining in a way Ilya knew far too well and which, almost always, meant that some unsuspecting stranger was about to have all their personal problems analyzed by two Russians with microphones and very little respect for other people’s privacy.
Not that their listeners didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. The podcast was called Russians’ Tea, after all. No one sent a story to a show with a name like that expecting sensible, unbiased, emotionally mature advice. They were there for the gossip.
– Are you going to read it, or are you going to keep staring at the screen like a cartoon villain? – Ilya asked, adjusting the headphones over his blond curls.
Svetlana raised one finger, asking for silence, even though they weren’t even recording yet.
– I’m appreciating the work of art in email form that is this story!
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Svetlana finally pressed the button to start recording. The opening music began playing through their headphones, followed by her overly enthusiastic voice welcoming the listeners.
Ilya smiled when it was his turn to speak, using that low, confident tone of voice that, according to comments he definitely did not read every week, was responsible for a concerning number of people listening to the show in bed.
– Hello, gossip lovers. I’m Svetlana Vetrova.
– And I’m Ilya Rozanov.
– And this is the show where you tell us about the worst decisions of your lives so we can judge you publicly.
– Advise you – Ilya corrected.
Svetlana rolled her eyes, but her smile remained in place as she opened the first email.
– Today we’re starting with a listener email instead of one of our popular Reddit readings. But I promise it’ll be just as good!
– I don’t know the story either, but if you could see the manic smile Sveta has right now, you’d agree that this one looks promising!
– The title of today’s submission is: “Am I the asshole for wanting to make my ex-boyfriend jealous at his wedding?”
Ilya immediately leaned forward in his chair.
– That title sounds like a trap.
– Elaborate, Rozanov.
– Based on the title, it sounds like the person is the asshole and hasn’t gotten over their ex. But that’s exactly why I trust that there’s a good reason behind it, so my answer is no!
– Final answer?
Ilya considered it for a second.
– Yes, but I definitely need more information.
Svetlana let out a quiet laugh before she began to read.
– “Hello, Russians’ Tea. I need to know whether I’m being an asshole for wanting to get some personal revenge at my ex-boyfriend’s wedding. For privacy reasons, I’ll call him Tom.”
– This is already starting better than I expected.
Svetlana ignored the comment.
– “I’ve always been very shy, and it also took me a long time to figure out that I was a gay man because I grew up believing I was supposed to feel certain things that I simply didn’t. When I met Tom at twenty, it was love at first sight. He was my first everything—my first kiss, my first relationship, my first time with a man, and, for a long time, the only person I could imagine building a life with.”
Ilya’s smile faded slightly, though he didn’t interrupt this time.
– “We dated for three years and got engaged a few months before the breakup. At the time, I thought our relationship was normal. Now I can see that it wasn’t. Tom picked on me a lot, especially when it came to things related to my autism. He complained whenever I needed to leave loud places, said I was being dramatic when I got upset because he made plans without telling me and disrupted my routine, and frequently made jokes about my habits in front of his friends.”
Ilya leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
– I definitely don’t like this Tom.
– No one likes Tom – Svetlana said without taking her eyes off the screen. – “I knew some of the things I did were difficult for him, so I tried to change. I hid it whenever I felt overwhelmed and started accepting situations that made me uncomfortable because I thought that was what people did when they loved someone.”
The studio grew quieter.
As much as Russians’ Tea was known for jokes, teasing, and less-than-diplomatic opinions, some stories made even Ilya think before opening his mouth. This seemed to be one of them.
Svetlana took a deep breath before continuing.
– “A year ago, Tom broke up with me completely out of nowhere. He said he couldn’t deal with me and my habits anymore. A week later, I found out he was dating Karen—not her real name—who happens to be none other than my cousin.”
– Hold on! His cousin? Only a week later? – Ilya interrupted. – No. They were already together.
– Probably.
– Definitely.
– “Karen and I have never been close. Her parents are openly homophobic, and she has always preferred to pretend she doesn’t hear their comments. On more than one occasion, she even told me I should try to understand their side because they grew up in a different time.”
Ilya stared at the microphone as if Tom, Karen, and her entire family had personally offended him. Which, in a way, they had. He was bisexual, after all.
– I don’t like Karen either.
– Neither do I, but your vote doesn’t count! You don’t like anyone.
– I like the guy who wrote the email.
– Moving on… “Their wedding is next month. They invited my entire family, including my parents and me. My parents said I don’t have to go and that they’ll support me no matter what I decide, but part of me wants to be there.”
– Don’t go – Ilya said immediately. – Stay home. Order food. Watch the wedding scene from Twilight. I’m sure it’ll be better.
– “I don’t want Tom back, and I need to make that clear. What I want is for him to look at me and realize that he didn’t destroy me. I want him to know I’m better off without him and that, in the end, I’m the one who won.”
Ilya leaned toward the microphone again.
– Oh.
Svetlana smiled.
– Changed your mind?
– Maybe.
– “That’s why I thought about hiring an actor to pretend to be my boyfriend during the wedding. Someone handsome, confident, and convincing enough to make Tom jealous. I know it’s childish and probably won’t solve anything, but the idea of showing up with someone better than him has been making me strangely happy.”
A slow smile spread across Ilya’s face.
– Now I fully support it.
– Of course you do.
– Keep going.
– “So, Russians’ Tea, would I be the asshole for hiring a fake boyfriend for my ex’s wedding just to make him jealous?”
Svetlana finished reading and turned toward Ilya, though they both already knew he was about to say something she would probably regret.
– No – Ilya declared. – The ex is an asshole, the cousin is an asshole, the homophobic parents are assholes, and anyone who complains because their boyfriend needs to leave a loud place is also a massive asshole.
– A very precise analysis.
– Thank you.
Svetlana laughed, but Ilya continued before she could regain control of the episode.
– Also, dear anonymous listener, don’t pay an actor. I’ll do it!
She froze.
– You’ll do what?
– Go to the wedding as your fake boyfriend. If you’re from Montreal or somewhere nearby, send us a message and I’ll be your fake boyfriend for the day!
Svetlana spent several seconds simply staring at him, probably trying to determine whether he was joking. The problem was that Ilya wasn’t sure either. The idea had left his mouth before he could consider all the possible consequences, which happened more often than he liked to admit.
Still, he didn’t take it back.
– I’m serious – he added. – I’ll do it for free. I can be very convincing.
– No one doubts that.
– I’m handsome, charming, and I love causing trouble at weddings.
– How many weddings have you ruined?
– None. But everyone has to start somewhere.
***
Svetlana waited exactly seven minutes after the recording ended before opening the email again. Ilya had already removed his headphones and was checking the notifications on his phone when he noticed the rapid sound of her typing.
– What are you doing?
– Finding out where he lives.
– Svetlana.
– You volunteered.
Ilya opened his mouth, closed it again, and decided the argument wasn’t worth the effort.
– I was joking.
– Were you really? Because it would be incredible if you actually went to that wedding!
The truth was, he probably should have been joking. Traveling to another city to pretend to be a stranger’s boyfriend at his ex’s wedding didn’t sound like a decision made by a responsible adult. It sounded like the beginning of a true-crime documentary in which his friends appeared on-screen saying they had always known it would end badly.
Still, Ilya looked at Svetlana.
– Ask him where he lives.
The answer arrived less than an hour later.
Hello, Svetlana.
I had to listen to the recording you sent me three times to make sure this was actually happening. I live in Ottawa, and I would absolutely love to take Ilya to the wedding. I know you’re both in Montreal, and I’m willing to pay for his trip because this is already the most entertaining thing that has happened to me in months.
My number is…
Svetlana forwarded the message to Ilya with five teacup emojis.
He stared at the number for a while.
He wasn’t nervous. Ilya Rozanov did not get nervous about messaging unknown men he intended to accompany to their ex-fiancés’ weddings. It was an extremely specific situation and therefore impossible for it to have become a recognizable fear.
Ilya: Hi. It’s your new boyfriend.
Ilya: Ilya Rozanov from Russians’ Tea, by the way!
The answer appeared almost immediately.
Shane: That was fast.
Ilya: Modern relationships.
Shane: I thought Svetlana was going to talk to me first.
Ilya: She’s very controlling. We need to keep our love a secret.
Three dots appeared on the screen, disappeared, and returned a few seconds later.
Shane: I’m already starting to regret this.
Ilya smiled.
Ilya: Send me a picture.
Shane: That was disturbingly direct.
Ilya: I need to know who I’m dating.
The picture arrived almost two minutes later. Shane was standing in front of a window, wearing a gray hoodie, his black hair falling messily over his forehead. He had dark eyes, a small smile, and a considerable number of freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.
Ilya zoomed in without realizing it.
Handsome. Irritatingly handsome, to be honest.
Ilya: Tom is a complete idiot.
Shane: Why?
Shane: His real name is Jack, by the way.
Ilya: You’re very handsome.
This time, the response took longer.
Shane: Is that part of the character?
Ilya: We haven’t started acting yet.
Ilya received another picture. It wasn’t of Shane, but a completely black screen.
Shane: This is a visual representation of my brain trying to decide how to respond.
Ilya laughed to himself in the middle of the sidewalk, earning a suspicious glance from a woman walking past him.
Ilya: Do you get shy easily?
Shane: No.
Ilya: Liar.
Shane: You need to send me a picture too.
Ilya: You already know what my face looks like, but fine!
Ilya opened the camera, raised his phone, and took a picture without thinking much about it. He was wearing a plain black T-shirt, his curls still messy from the headphones, and a smile Svetlana often described as the reason no one trusted him.
Shane’s response took four minutes.
Ilya: Who’s the creepy one now?
Shane: I was busy.
Ilya: Doing what?
Shane: Celebrating the fact that my revenge plan is going to work even better than expected.
Ilya liked him immediately.
Which, considering there were still three weeks until the wedding, might have been the first problem.
***
The conversations began with practical questions.
What color was the suit? Where would the ceremony be? Was Shane comfortable with physical contact? Did Jack know all his friends? Did they need to invent a story for their relationship? Were there any foods Shane didn’t eat? What song was most likely to make him abandon the dance floor?
At some point, however, the questions stopped being practical.
Ilya discovered that Shane worked in data analysis, had an organized list of safe restaurants around the city, and hated the sound of people chewing loudly. Shane learned that Ilya only recorded the podcast once a week, although Svetlana forced him to show up at the studio — which was actually her house — on other days because, according to her, he needed supervision.
They started exchanging messages in the morning. Then during lunch. Then at night, when Shane said he should go to sleep but continued replying for another forty minutes.
Shane: We need to decide when we started dating.
Ilya: Love doesn’t follow calendars.
Shane: Jack will ask.
Ilya: Three months.
Shane: Why three?
Ilya: Long enough for you to be in love, but not long enough for you to notice my flaws.
Shane: I think I’ve already noticed some.
Ilya: Impossible. I don’t have flaws.
Shane: You volunteered on a podcast to attend a stranger’s wedding.
Ilya: That’s generosity.
Shane sent an eye-rolling emoji.
***
Saying Shane was nervous on the morning of the wedding would have been an understatement. The ceremony was two hours away, he had rearranged the products in his bathroom three times, and he continued checking his phone every few minutes, even though Ilya had told him he was still on the road.
It wasn’t as though he was worried Ilya might back out. An hour earlier, Ilya had sent him a picture from inside the car with the caption On my way to pick up my man, which should have been sufficient proof of his commitment to this terrible idea.
The problem was exactly the opposite. Ilya was really coming.
For three weeks, he had been nothing more than a photograph, a familiar voice through Shane’s headphones, and a constant stream of teasing messages that made Shane smile at his phone like a teenager. In person, everything would be different. Maybe they wouldn’t have anything to talk about. Maybe Ilya would realize Shane was strange. Maybe the entire plan would fall apart before they even reached the church.
The doorbell rang.
Shane remained motionless in the hallway for two full seconds because, apparently, his body had decided to abandon all motor functions at the precise moment he needed them most.
The doorbell rang again.
– I’m coming – he called, though Ilya probably couldn’t hear him.
He opened the door.
And, well, Shane already knew Ilya was handsome. He had seen pictures, videos of the podcast, and even an image of him just after waking up, with half his face buried in the pillow, sent either accidentally or, more likely, with the specific intention of destroying Shane’s ability to think for the rest of the day.
None of it had adequately prepared him.
Ilya stood outside wearing dark jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and sunglasses hooked onto the collar. His blond curls were slightly disheveled from the drive, and the smile that appeared when he saw Shane was slow, open, and dangerously confident.
– Hi.
Ilya blinked as if he had forgotten he was supposed to answer.
– You have freckles.
Shane frowned.
– Yes? I think you could see them in the pictures I sent, couldn’t you?
– Not like this.
– Like what? – Shane asked, running one hand over his face as though he could wipe the marks away.
Ilya raised a hand and gestured vaguely toward his face.
– A lot of them. Pretty.
Shane looked away, gripping the edge of the door.
– Are you planning on standing in the hallway all day?
– I’m considering it. The view is good.
– You’re worse in person.
– Thank you.
Ilya entered carrying a travel bag and his suit protected by a garment bag. He passed Shane slowly, close enough for their arms to nearly brush, leaving the scent of his cologne lingering in the hallway.
Definitely worse in person.
– Do you want water? – Shane asked. – Or coffee? I have tea too, but I don’t know whether Russians actually drink that much tea or if it’s just a stereotype.
– Water’s fine. And we drink vodka all day.
Shane stopped.
– I’m kidding.
– I knew that.
– Of course.
– The bathroom is at the end of the hallway.
– Are you kicking me out?
– I’m telling you where you can change.
– Want to help?
Shane stared at him.
– Definitely not.
– We haven’t even started pretending to be in love and you’re already rejecting me. That hurts.
Despite his nerves, Shane laughed. It was the first time he thought that maybe everything really would be okay.
It took Ilya a little over fifteen minutes to emerge from the bathroom wearing the dark suit. Shane was standing in front of the living room mirror, attempting to adjust his tie for the fourth time, when he saw him in the reflection.
If the plan was to make Jack jealous, they had probably overdone it.
Ilya looked as though he had stepped out of an advertising campaign for dangerously confident people. The jacket framed his shoulders, his curls had been styled without completely losing their rebellious appearance, and the top button of his white shirt was undone, making it clear that ties were a social convention he refused to obey.
He approached Shane from behind.
– Are you trying to strangle yourself?
– I can’t get both sides even.
– Turn around.
Shane obeyed. Ilya raised his hands but stopped before touching him.
– May I?
The question was simple. Still, something tightened inside Shane’s chest. Jack had never asked. He had simply pulled, corrected, and complained while doing it. Shane didn’t want to compare the two. Ilya deserved far better than to be compared to his ex. Even so, it was difficult not to think about the difference.
– You may.
Ilya undid the knot and started again, his fingers working slowly over the fabric. Shane tried to look at anything other than his face, but that was a considerably difficult task with Ilya standing so close.
– Nervous? – the Russian asked.
– A little.
– Do you want to back out?
Shane raised his eyes.
There was no teasing on Ilya’s face. Only a sincere question, as though he was truly giving Shane a choice and would be willing to get back on the road without complaining if that was what he needed.
– No.
– Are you sure?
– Absolutely.
Ilya finished the tie and smoothed the fabric over his chest.
– Then let’s show that idiot what he lost.
Shane looked at their reflection. Ilya was slightly taller, broader, and entirely comfortable with his own presence. Shane, standing beside him, looked less frightened than he had expected. He was still himself, with his rigid posture and restless fingers, but there was something about the way Ilya remained close without demanding anything from him that made breathing easier.
– We need to take a picture – Ilya announced, reaching for his phone. – To celebrate our first public event as a couple.
– This isn’t going on the podcast.
– No, it’s just for me.
Ilya moved beside him and placed a hand on his waist, but only after waiting for a small nod. Shane stared at the screen, feeling the warmth of his palm through the suit jacket.
– Smile, boyfriend.
– Don’t call me that.
– Smile, love of my life.
– That’s even worse.
Shane laughed just as Ilya took the picture.
It came out perfect.
***
David and Yuna were waiting outside the church when they arrived.
Shane recognized his father’s smile before they had even crossed the parking lot. David already knew the entire story because hiding anything from him required a talent Shane had never developed, but Yuna had only discovered the plan the night before. To no one’s surprise, she thought it was ridiculous. To Shane’s surprise, she also fully supported it.
– You’re here – David said, opening his arms.
Shane received a tight hug before his father turned toward Ilya.
– You’re him.
David hugged him too. Shane closed his eyes for a second.
– Dad.
– I love the podcast – David explained, keeping his hands on Ilya’s shoulders. – The episode about the guy who lied about knowing how to drive was excellent.
– That man almost died because of his pride – Ilya replied. – I respect him greatly.
– That’s exactly what I said!
Yuna approached and kissed Shane’s cheek before looking Ilya up and down. Her expression was polite but cautious, as though she was trying to determine whether he was trustworthy or merely very handsome.
– So you’re the fake boyfriend.
– Mom – Shane muttered.
– Technically, it doesn’t start until we go inside – Ilya replied.
Her mouth curved into a smile.
– Make Jack regret every choice he has made since birth.
Ilya placed one hand over his heart.
– Finally, someone who understands the importance of my work.
The church was already nearly full. Shane spent the first few minutes greeting relatives, introducing Ilya to his aunts and uncles, and listening to comments about what a beautiful couple they made. Every compliment warmed his cheeks a little more, although the Russian seemed to enjoy every second of it.
When they sat down, Ilya leaned toward him.
– Your family likes me. I think I’ll do a good job with the mission your mother gave me.
– Sorry about that, by the way. My mother can be a little intimidating sometimes.
– Actually, I think I’m a little in love with her.
Shane looked toward the altar when the music began, trying to control the anxiety slowly rising inside his chest.
Then Jack walked in.
He stood beside the groomsmen, wearing a navy-blue suit and a smile that was far too wide. He looked practically the same: perfectly styled brown hair, a short beard, and that satisfied expression that had once made Shane believe every problem between them was his fault.
Ilya followed his gaze.
– Is that him?
Shane nodded. The Russian studied Jack for a few seconds, tilting his head.
– I expected more.
Shane had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
– He’s not ugly.
– He’s not handsome enough for you either.
Ilya said it with such ease that Shane couldn’t come up with an answer. Fortunately, the bride began walking down the aisle at that moment, saving him from having to try.
Amy — her real name — was wearing a voluminous white dress, her hair pinned into a high updo, and a smile that disappeared for a fraction of a second when her eyes found Shane.
Ilya touched Shane’s hand on the pew, giving him enough time to move it away if he wanted. When Shane didn’t, he intertwined their fingers.
The contact remained throughout the ceremony.
***
The reception took place in a large hall decorated with white flowers, candles, and golden lights scattered across the ceiling. The music was still low, servers circulated with trays of drinks, and the guests were settling at tables marked with small cards.
Shane and Ilya were seated with David, Yuna, and two of Shane’s cousins, who had understood the plan in less than ten minutes and decided to participate with concerning enthusiasm.
– You need to touch him more – Nicole, one of the cousins, said, discreetly pointing toward the space between them. – Couples touch each other.
– That’s not true – Shane replied.
– Yes, it is.
– Not all of them.
– We’ve been together for three months – Ilya reminded him. – We’re still in the honeymoon phase. We can touch more, if that’s okay with you?
As soon as Shane nodded, the Russian dragged his chair a few inches closer and rested his arm behind him. Ilya’s knee brushed his beneath the table.
– Better? – he asked Nicole.
She gave him a thumbs-up.
– Much more convincing.
– I hate all of you – Shane muttered.
– That’s not what your face says – Ilya replied, far too close to his ear.
Shane turned toward him and found a smug smile.
– My face isn’t saying anything.
– It’s saying a lot of things.
– Ignore it.
– Impossible. It’s a very handsome face.
– You need to stop saying that.
– Don’t boyfriends compliment each other?
Shane was about to answer when he noticed the conversation around the table growing quieter.
Jack and Amy were approaching.
Shane’s body stiffened before he could control the reaction. Ilya noticed immediately. His knee pressed against Shane’s beneath the tablecloth, firm enough to get his attention but not enough to trap him.
– You okay? – he asked quietly.
Shane took a deep breath.
– Yes.
– Do you want me to be polite?
– Just be yourself.
A dangerous gleam entered Ilya’s smile.
– That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.
Jack reached the table first, one hand resting on Amy’s waist. His gaze quickly passed over Shane’s parents, his cousins, and finally landed on Ilya. The smile he was wearing weakened.
– Shane – he greeted. – You came.
– I was invited.
– Yes. Of course.
Amy looked at Ilya.
– I didn’t know you were bringing someone.
– This is Ilya – Shane said. – My boyfriend.
Saying the words aloud should have felt strange. Instead, they felt dangerously easy.
Ilya extended his hand.
– Nice to meet you. Beautiful wedding.
Jack took a moment to accept it.
– Shane has told me a lot about you.
That was a lie. Shane had told him what was necessary and changed the subject whenever possible, but Jack didn’t need to know that.
– Hopefully good things – Jack said.
– Not exactly.
The silence that followed lasted a little over two seconds, but it was enough for David to hide his smile behind his glass and for Yuna to send Ilya an approving look.
Shane felt something light open inside his chest.
Jack cleared his throat.
– How long have you been together?
– Three months – Shane and Ilya answered at the same time.
Ilya turned toward him.
– He counts the days.
– I do not.
– One hundred and two.
– That isn’t three months.
– See? He knows exactly.
Nicole choked on her drink, but Jack didn’t seem to find it funny.
– And how did you meet?
– Online – Shane replied.
– He heard my voice and fell in love – Ilya added. – It happens a lot.
Shane looked at him.
– That isn’t what happened.
– You don’t need to be embarrassed, darling.
The word made Shane’s stomach tighten in a completely unnecessary way.
Amy crossed her arms.
– Do you live in Ottawa?
– Montreal.
Jack turned his attention back to Shane.
– You’re maintaining a long-distance relationship?
His tone sounded more like an accusation than a question. It was far too familiar. Jack used to speak that way whenever Shane made a decision he considered wrong, as though it was his responsibility to point out every possible way it would end badly.
– We are – Shane replied.
– You’ve never liked disruptions to your routine.
The table fell silent again.
Jack always did that: said something that might sound caring to anyone who didn’t know him but carried a hidden criticism aimed exactly where it hurt most. Shane felt heat crawl up the back of his neck.
– He handles it well – Ilya said.
Jack shot him a quick glance.
– You’ve only known him for three months.
– And I’ve already figured out that I can ask Shane what makes him comfortable instead of deciding for him.
Amy turned toward Jack.
– What does that mean?
– Nothing – Jack answered too quickly.
Ilya rested his hand on Shane’s thigh beneath the table, offering him another silent opportunity to move away.
Shane let it remain there.
– Shane doesn’t really like parties either – Jack continued, as though he needed to prove something. – Especially when the music is loud. He used to ruin the night whenever he wanted to leave early.
Ilya’s fingers tightened slightly.
– Interesting.
– What?
– I’d never considered that respecting someone’s limits could ruin a night. It seems easier to simply leave with them.
Jack laughed without humor.
– You say that now.
– I say it because I like him.
The sentence struck Shane hard enough to make the rest of the room seem to fade away.
It was acting. He knew it was acting.
Still, Ilya wasn’t looking at Jack when he said it. He was looking at Shane, his pale eyes fixed on his and his expression less teasing than it had been all evening.
Jack noticed too.
– Shane can be quite complicated – he said.
Ilya finally turned toward him.
– Maybe Shane wasn’t the complicated one.
Amy let out an irritated sigh.
– Jack, can we greet the other tables? We’ve been standing here too long.
– I’m only talking – Jack replied, clenching his jaw.
Ilya’s smile was small, almost polite, but Shane knew him well enough to understand that he was enjoying himself more than he should have been.
– Don’t worry – the Russian said. – Shane is being very well taken care of.
Jack looked at the hand resting on Shane’s leg.
– Seems like you moved on quickly.
Shane almost laughed.
Quickly.
Jack had started dating Amy a week after the breakup, but Shane moving on a year later was quick.
Before he could respond, Ilya lifted Shane’s hand and kissed his fingers. The gesture was gentle, lingering, and so convincing that Shane briefly forgot there were other people at the table.
– Some people recognize a good thing when they find it – Ilya said.
Jack’s face turned red, Amy looked even more annoyed, and David appeared to be two seconds away from applauding.
– Let’s go – Amy said, gathering her dress. – We have other guests.
Jack took another second to move. His gaze remained on Shane, caught somewhere between irritation, confusion, and something that looked dangerously like jealousy.
Then Amy walked away without waiting for him, and Jack was forced to follow.
The silence at the table lasted until they were far enough away.
Nicole slapped both hands against the tablecloth.
– That was incredible.
David started laughing as Yuna raised her glass toward Ilya.
– Mission accomplished.
Ilya accepted the toast with a satisfied expression.
Shane continued staring at the place where Jack had been standing, his heart racing and a childish kind of happiness rising inside his chest. He knew it didn’t change the past. It didn’t erase three years of criticism or make the times he had believed himself impossible to love disappear.
But Jack’s face when Ilya kissed his hand?
That certainly helped.
– Are you okay? – Ilya asked.
Shane looked at him.
– I’m great.
– Do you want me to stop touching you?
Shane lowered his eyes to the hand still resting on his thigh.
– No.
Ilya’s smile appeared slowly. Shane picked up his glass, trying to hide his burning face.
Perhaps he had created a completely different problem.
***
After dessert, the music grew louder and the guests began filling the dance floor.
Shane would normally have avoided that kind of situation. The room was crowded, lights moved across the walls, and too many voices were blending with the noise from the speakers. Even so, Ilya didn’t pull him toward the middle or insist when he remained seated.
He simply approached and asked:
– Want to dance?
– I don’t know how.
– No one here does. You just move around and pretend you know what you’re doing.
– You know how.
– Yes, but I’m exceptional at many things.
Shane rolled his eyes.
– It’s too crowded.
– We can stay near the edge. And if you want to leave, we leave.
The answer came without hesitation. Shane looked at the hand extended in front of him.
– One song.
Ilya really did take him to a less crowded area near the tables, where the music seemed slightly quieter. He didn’t try to spin Shane or make him follow complicated steps. He simply placed one hand on his waist and kept the other intertwined with his while they moved slowly.
– This isn’t dancing – Shane commented.
– We’re moving and there’s music. I’d call that dancing.
Shane laughed.
It was strange to realize how much fun he was having. Maybe it was the alcohol, the success of his small act of revenge, or the way Ilya made everything seem simple.
He danced with David, who was even worse than he had promised, let Yuna teach him a few steps, and ended up in the middle of a circle with his cousins while Ilya attempted to follow choreography he had clearly never seen before.
At some point, Ilya removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Shane tried not to look at his arms.
He failed embarrassingly.
– You’re staring – Ilya said, reappearing beside him with two glasses.
– I’m not.
Ilya handed him one of the drinks.
– Liar.
Shane took a sip so he wouldn’t have to answer.
Later, when the room became too crowded, he quietly slipped out through a side door. The hallway leading to the garden was empty and silent, lit only by small lights installed along the floor.
Shane took a deep breath.
It didn’t take long for him to hear the door open behind him.
– Hey – Ilya called.
Shane turned around. Ilya stood a few steps away, his jacket thrown over one shoulder and his curls messier than they had been at the beginning of the evening.
– I’m okay. You didn’t need to come after me.
– I wanted to.
– But you were having fun in there. Everyone loved you.
– You’re part of the fun too.
Shane looked toward the garden.
– I just needed some quiet for a few minutes.
– Then we can be quiet.
Ilya moved closer, but not too close. He leaned against the wall beside Shane and remained silent.
No questions. No complaints. No jokes about Shane ruining the party or needing special treatment.
Only silence.
That should have been the bare minimum. The problem was that, for a long time, Shane had been convinced that asking for the bare minimum was asking for too much.
– Thank you – he said after a while.
– For staying quiet? It really is an enormous sacrifice for me.
Shane let out a soft laugh.
– For coming.
Ilya turned his face toward him.
– It was the best impulsive decision I’ve made this year.
Shane smiled, but the expression faded when his eyes met Ilya’s. The hallway suddenly seemed narrower, even though neither of them had moved.
– Jack was an idiot – Ilya said.
– I know, but it’s not like I’m not used to the things he said about me.
– No. I mean he was an idiot for letting you get away.
The air caught in Shane’s lungs.
Ilya continued looking at him, the teasing gradually disappearing from his face.
– You’re not complicated – he added. – You’re quiet, a little stubborn, and frighteningly organized. You also take a very long time to respond whenever I tell you you’re handsome.
– Because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.
– You could say I’m handsome too.
Shane let out a laugh, though his heart was still racing.
– You already know that.
– I like hearing it.
– You’re handsome.
Ilya smiled.
Not the smug smile he used to irritate him, but something smaller, almost surprised.
– Thank you.
Shane looked at his mouth.
He hadn’t meant to. His gaze simply dropped, remained there for one second longer than it should have, and returned to Ilya’s pale eyes.
Ilya noticed, because of course he did. He seemed to notice all the things Shane preferred to hide.
– Is this still part of the plan? – he asked quietly.
– What?
Ilya stepped closer.
– The way you’re looking at me.
Shane could have denied it. He could have made a joke, changed the subject, or returned to the reception hall, where there were enough people to stop the conversation from continuing.
Instead, he remained where he was.
– I don’t know.
Ilya raised a hand but didn’t touch him.
– May I kiss you?
The question made Shane’s heart beat even faster.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the entire evening spent pretending that being this close was normal. Maybe it was the three weeks of messages, the jokes, and the way Ilya had asked before adjusting his tie.
Or perhaps Shane simply wanted him to.
– You may.
Ilya placed his hand against Shane’s face, his thumb moving carefully over the freckles on his cheek before he closed the distance.
The first touch of their lips was slow, almost cautious, as though he were giving Shane time to change his mind. When he didn’t, Ilya tilted his head slightly and deepened the kiss.
Shane gripped the front of his shirt.
No one was watching. There was no ex to provoke, no irritated cousin, and no relatives observing the performance.
Only the two of them, alone in a quiet hallway, kissing without any need to pretend.
Ilya moved back a few inches.
– Do you still want to return to the party?
Shane opened his eyes.
– In a minute.
The Russian’s smile spread against his mouth before he kissed him again.
***
When they returned to the reception hall, Nicole looked at the two of them, then at Shane’s lips, and smiled so widely that he seriously considered finding a new family.
– Not one word – he warned.
Nicole made a zipping motion across her mouth, and when Ilya laughed, Shane lightly elbowed him.
The rest of the night passed far too quickly. They danced again, shared a slice of cake, and listened to David explain to Ilya for nearly twenty minutes why the episode about the driver was the best in the entire history of the podcast.
Jack looked at them several times.
Shane noticed and, to his own surprise, didn’t care.
It had begun as an attempt to show his ex that he was doing better. Somewhere between Ilya insulting Jack’s appearance, arguing with him at the table, and kissing Shane in an empty hallway, Shane had simply stopped thinking about who had won.
It was already past midnight when the guests began leaving. David and Yuna said goodbye near the entrance of the hall, and David hugged Ilya as though they had been friends for years.
– Come back to Ottawa – he asked. – We could record an episode together.
– Dad, don’t get carried away – Shane said.
– Absolutely. You have talent – Ilya replied.
Yuna kissed Shane’s cheek and gave the two of them a long look.
– Drive safely.
Shane felt his face grow warm.
Ilya waited until his parents had walked away before smiling.
– Your mother likes me.
They walked to the parking lot together. The night was cold, and the silence between them was comfortable in a way Shane hadn’t expected.
When they reached the car, Ilya stopped beside the driver’s-side door.
– I think I should go.
Shane looked at his watch.
– Now?
– I still have to drive back to Montreal.
It was reasonable. Ilya had only come for the wedding. The plan ended there, in the parking lot, after a successful night and two kisses neither of them had mentioned since returning to the party.
Still, Shane’s chest tightened.
– You drank.
– I stopped a few hours ago. I swear I’m fine to drive.
– Even so, you could stay.
Shane shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket because it was easier than dealing with the urge to grab Ilya’s shirt again.
– At my house – he explained, though it was already quite obvious. – I have a guest room. Or the couch. You don’t need to drive right now.
Ilya’s gaze remained fixed on him.
– Are you inviting me to stay because you’re worried about the drive?
Shane opened his mouth, ready to lie because that would have been easier.
Still, what came out was the truth.
– Not only because of that.
Ilya approached slowly.
– Are you sure?
Shane nodded.
– Yes.
– Then I’ll stay.
This time, Shane was the one who closed the distance.
The kiss began with a smile, soft and slightly awkward, before Ilya placed his hands on Shane’s waist and pulled him closer. Shane wrapped his arms around his neck, briefly forgetting the parking lot, the cold, and the fact that any lingering guest might see them.
Not that it mattered.
Jack had already received his little demonstration. The wedding was over, the revenge had worked, and Ilya no longer needed to pretend to be anyone’s boyfriend.
Still, when they climbed into the car together and Ilya intertwined their fingers over the center console, Shane didn’t let go.
Maybe, just maybe, the best part of taking a fake boyfriend to your ex’s wedding was going home and discovering that neither of you was interested in pretending anymore.