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The first rule of getting invited to the wedding of the century is that you cannot talk about the wedding or that you’re invited. When Ilya got the invitation, he didn’t realize what it was at first. It looked like any number of invitations he may have at some point gotten for the foundation or hockey; it wasn’t until he saw the return address that he knew for sure what he was holding. He’d maybe slightly been expecting, or at least hoping, to receive an invite, but here in his hands was the proof of their friendship and he was finding himself truly excited about attending a wedding for the first time since his own.
He slid the seal on the invitation and carefully remove the paper inside, it was little more than a save the date with minimal details, Manhattan, July 3rd, more information to follow, digitally, as the date neared. Without any hesitation, he ran into the living room of the cottage with a gleeful bounce announcing, “my close personal friend Taylor Alison Swift has invited me to her WEDDING!” Shane paused rolling over and absorbing what he’d just heard, putting his hand out to see for himself. Ilya handed the papers over seemingly vibrating as the joy came off him in waves. Shane looked over the invitation with an acknowledging nod, then he checked the envelope giving Ilya a blank look and a slight huff, “you were invited? Just you?”
Ilya gave him a dismissive cock of the head and quirk of the eyebrow and said, “I have plus one, I guess you can come with me,” his finger coming up to rub the side of his nose while his gaze refused to meet his husbands.
“Really because it looks like the envelope says Ilya and Shane Hollander-Rozanov not Ilya Rozanov +1”
“Well, no of course you were invited too. You are my husband,” Shane leveled him with a withering look as he continued, “and maybe also you are their friend,” Ilya blew out air, rolled his eyes and said with a swish of his hand, “my friend first you meet them through me. They’re my friends you’re my husband that’s how you get invite.”
Resigned to losing this argument he walked away as he mumbled under his breath, “we met Travis at the same time.”
Ilya smiled to himself as he remembers the FaceTime call he’d gotten that July during the Era’s Tour. They’d not expected to hear from her, no one who considered themselves friends did, they were simply and very kindly asked what shows they would like to attend and how many tickets they needed. So, when he answered, and his friend smiled back at him he'd been pleasantly surprised.
“Pretty Blonde Singer you are calling me – what’s wrong – is my sweet Olivia asking for me? Do the babies want to come see Uncle Ilya?”
“I love that your first thought is about the cats and not you know, this insane tour I’m on or why I would be calling you on one of my few days off.”
“I’m amazing, is why you always call me.”
“Sure. Is Shane there?”
Ilya’s mouth drops open, and he stares at her in wild bewilderment.
“Hey Taylor, I’m here,” Shane calls from the kitchen as he moves toward the living room to sit beside Ilya.
“Hi Shaney,” her smile is warm and genuine, “I need an unhinged perspective but Ilya you can stay,” as Ilya rubs his face Shane catches the wink she gives him.
“How can we help you, Taylor, our friend, who we are not in a competition over,” he says nudging Ilya back to attention.
“I need your honest opinion – knowing what you know about professional athletes, your current relationship notwithstanding, Shane you’re a Saint by the way, would you date an athlete if you had it all to do over again.”
Ilya’s eyes widen and he looks at Shane out of the corner of his eye. Shane catches the face and cocks his head at him leaning forward with something like irritation and shock on his face.
“Ah, this feels like a trap, if I answer wrong, I could be divorced.”
“Minimally you’re already sleeping on the couch tonight, tread carefully.”
There is a distinct giggle from the line and both men turn to look at the little shit stirrer.
“No, I’m sorry, it’s just that, there’s someone who wants to take me out and has been pretty persistent and my family thinks I should give him a chance. He’s just so unlike anyone I’ve ever dated before and I’m not sure.”
“Ah is this Mr. Butthurt?”
Shane makes an incredulous face, “what in the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, American football player, you probably don’t know, Travis Kelce, he likes her.”
“Ilya, for the love of god, of COURSE I know who he is, we’ve had conversations with him, together, at several events.”
“Ah yes, forgot. Your question is would I date him? Yes, definitely, he’s hot.”
Once again Shane’s head whips around to look at him with his signature I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that glare landing hard at the side of his face; Ilya tries very hard to ignore it.
“Моя любовь, I meant IF I was single, I would definitely date him, maybe,” he felt suddenly like he’d stepped on a landmine, “he’s nice, tall, handsome, rich,” he looks back at Taylor for a lifeline she is too unwilling to throw, enjoying watching his attempts to recover way too much, “you should talk to him, see what you think. We like him, as our friend,” his gaze shifting to his husband seeing if he was still in trouble, “definitely not anything more.” He might actually be sweating but Shane finally looks away.
He'll never pretend that he was the reason they started dating but he likes to think they helped. When they became engaged, they knew before the Instagram posts, receiving a text and pictures announcing the happy news, and they’d had been so delighted for them.
On July 1nd as the they were packing to head to New York, a group text came through from Yuna.
Yuna: Hey boys I know you’re probably busy right now, but I wanted to let you know we received a donation you might be interested in.
Shane: Ok, why, what’s up?
Yuna: Sweetie it’s from Taylor and Travis
Shane: What?
Ilya: Oh no, she’s going to make me cry.
Yuna: There’s a note.
Ilya, Shane, and Members of the Irina Foundation Board,
To celebrate our marriage, we are honored to donate $100,000 in support of your incredible mission. We both know firsthand how vital mental health resources are, and we deeply admire the work you do. Thank you for raising awareness and creating meaningful solutions through your foundation.
Love, Taylor & Travis
Yuna: I’m hearing from other organizations they’re doing this as part of their wedding celebration. They’re very special people aren’t they.
Shane: Yeah, they are, Ilya’s a little emotional, we’ll make sure to send them a thank you when all the dust has settled. We should probably put something out through the Foundations website and Socials.
Yuna: I can handle that, we’ll time it for the day after the wedding, no need to pull any attention from them. I love you, have an amazing time!
So maybe Ilya had a little cry, and maybe Shane had to pause packing while they both collected themselves; they were happy tears after all so it was all in the spirit of the weekend.
Arriving in Manhattan on July 2rd was an exercise in military precision. Everything about this wedding had been cloaked in secrecy. They’d received the details of their invitation digitally and after completing individual NDAs they’d received confirmation that would allow them into the venue for the event. They checked into The Marriott Marquis in Time Square that afternoon noticing the people in the lobby. There were an unusual amount of football players and coaches for a July in New York City, he recognized several and acknowledged them with a nod, everyone knew why they were there, no one talked about it.
The day of the event the First Husbands of Hockey dressed to attend The Wedding of the Century. Shane was wearing Kiton’s peak-laple tuxedo and Ilya had chosen a Giuliva blazer in linen with matching tuxedo pants, he’d opted for a black on black look while Shane chose the more traditional white shirt. They had matching cufflinks with their initials on them, their wedding bands, and Shane wore his favorite Bvlgari earrings. They cut the most handsome image you could imagine. Shane was wearing his hair longer, so the stylist had pulled the top back leaving a few tendrils to frame his face, the rest of the hair down, touching the top of his collar. He tucked his glasses into his pocket only after the pictures Ilya had insisted they take together and separately with him wearing them, Ilya mentally reminding himself to file those images away into his folder of pictures of his husband he used when he needed alone time. Ilya’s curls were tamed carefully, leaving soft carefully arranged curls on the top while the sides were slicked back. Whey they were finally done taking pictures they made their way to the lobby where their arranged transportation would take them to the event.
It was surreal, first entering a bus with most of the Kansas Chiefs football team and their spouses and then arriving at Madison Square Gardens. He was looking up at the arena moving toward the entrance when Andy Reid had clapped him on the shoulder remarking, “must feel a little like coming home, huh? How long has it been since you’ve been back?”
Ilya look at the man and then around at the exterior of the building, “eight years, lots of good memories here, is nice to be back but I’m happy very happy where I am,” smiling and looking back at his pretty husband.
“No doubt man, let’s see if they took the banners down,” Reid smiled as they continued forward.
As they moved through the venue hallway, they saw how it had been transformed with greenery; quiet woodland sounds emanating from hidden speakers. The queue to enter was covered in soft carpet and draped fabric, photos of the couple through their life and relationship lined the walls, it was a beautiful time capsule to their love. Ilya and Shane paused in front of the images smiling to each other and squeezing their hands in acknowledgement. There was one in particular they looked at a little longer than the others. They remembered it fondly; it was a dinner Taylor had hosted in Paris on May 8th before she’d started the next leg of the tour. She and Travis were holding a birthday cake as they stood in front of a table. You couldn’t see any of the other people at the table, the photo was completely focused on the couple, but Shane smiled remembering the rest of the scene, the loud rendition of Happy Birthday while Taylor placed the cake in front of him; her speech apologizing for doing it early but wanting to not miss the opportunity to celebrate him. There had to have been thousands of pictures to choose from, he was flattered she’d picked this one.
Once they were inside the next two hours were filled with a cocktail hour and the ceremony. When they found seats for the ceremony they talked to their surrounding seat mates, Ilya quickly making friends with the man next to him whose name was Paul, Shane had said something about an ant under his breath and when he looked at him he was saying something about Hayes he didn’t fully catch.
On Shane’s other side was a man complimenting his earrings and talking, in Ilya’s opinion, a little too close to his husband. He’s interrupted by introduce himself, “I’m Ilya, Shane’s husband,” offering his hand to the man making Shane’s eyebrows shoot up.
The accent that greeted him made him smile. “Yes of course, I think we met at one of the shows, I’m Jan Ravnik, nice to see you again.” Shane shot him a look realizing why his husband had suddenly clocked into the conversation. His laugh came out as a huff as he returned to his conversation, Ilya’s warm and possessive hand landing hotly and maybe a little too high on his thigh.
As the officiant and Best Man/Man of Honor took the stage, Ilya felt an elbow in his side, “is that, Adam Sandler?” Given that Shane seemed to have no real interest or grasp on pop culture Ilya turned to him switching to Russian to give his husband context, “Да, они друзья. Его дети — большие Свифти, а потом, видимо, он и Трэвис стали ближе. Он снимался в своём фильме и участвовал в их подкасте.” (Yes, they’re friends. His kids are big Swifties and then I guess he and Travis got closer. He was in his movie and has been on their podcast). The ceremony was brief but touching, they each said their own vows and Adam performed a song he’d written for them encouraging the couple to “Keep Kissing”. Shane, who knew his husband all too well, quietly slipped a tissue into his hand so he could clear the blurriness out of his eyes, smiling warmly and draping his arm over the back of the chair as Ilya leaned into him a bit more.
Walking into the reception area Ilya let out an audible gasp. Seeing the arena he’d played in for so many years transformed into a breathtaking forest took any concerns he had about it being nostalgic out of his mind. He was somehow standing in the forest of Folklore and he could feel Shane beside him stepping into his favorite album, literally walking around in the image of the album from inside her head; he and Taylor had lost several hours over cups of tea talking about that album. While Ilya enjoyed the album, he knew he existed wholly in the Reputation Era forever, Shane however was a soft, sweet, Folklore boy and he knew how much this was meaning to him, only sad because he couldn’t capture his reaction to his surroudnings.
They approached their table, sensing a theme, they seemed to be around other athletes with scatterings of family and some of the celebrities they knew were closest to Tay and Trav. It was as they neared their seats he felt Shane tense beside him, griping his hand, but the look on his face didn’t match the tension in his body, a disbelieving smile on his face. He followed his husbands gaze and gasped.
“NO!”
Sitting at the table, smiling gleefully and waving were Scott and Kip Hunter.
“Чёрт,” was all Ilya could manage.
“Давай, будь вежлив,” (come on, and be nice) Shane said as he led his disgruntled husband forward.
“Did they give day pass for nursing home? Kip you are so nice to bring old man to wedding, did you have to get all his food mushed so he can eat it?”
Rolling his eyes and standing to greet them Scott gave Shane a hug while flipping Ilya off, “Rozanov nice to see you too.”
Undeterred even as Kip grabbed him into a hug he huffed out, “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Well, we had that project we worked on, and we stayed connected, we’re friends.”
Grumbling under his breath he said, “or you’re one of those everyone we’ve ever met people she invited.” And then a little bit louder, “does she write songs about you?”
Shane stilled, eyes wide, grabbing his husband’s thigh hard under the table in warning jumping into the conversation, “no, no, no, that didn’t happen that’s…not true…Ilya be nice, don’t make things up.” Ilya issues one final scowl and with a hard glint in his eyes admits, “no, you’re right, never happened,” deeply annoyed at the knowledge that he couldn’t tell them the truth even if he wanted to.
Kip, ever the peacekeeper jumps in to break the tension, “look, we’re all here to celebrate them, let’s have a good time tonight.”
Ilya relents, turning to his husband with a resigned face, letting him know that he’ll play nice, for tonight.
The rest of the evening unfolded much like you’d expect a reception to be, with the exception of A-list performers, professional dancers, and top tier celebrities all circulating and talking like they were old friends. Ilya found it impossible to stay off the dance floor, pulling Shane along with him, helping to move him to the music. They were laughing, jackets long since abandoned, swaying along to a song when Ilya was very deliberately knocked into by someone, he smiled as he saw who it was, “Oh excuse me Mr. Hollander-Rozanov, don’t mind me,” the man smiled back at him with a mischievous grin, “Kam, my friend, is so good to see you!” The men warmly embraced, not having seen each other since the tour had ended. Shane saw his opportunity for a break and leaned into Kam, greeting the man, “Hi Kam, he’s all yours, I’m going to get a drink and sit for a minute.”
“Моя любовь can you please bring me drink,” his eyes glinting, “Pretty Blonde Singer made sure to have good vodka for me.” The long-standing joke between the friends landing when the available alcohol on the bar menu had listed the vodka with a notation beside it *Ilya Hollander-Rozanov Approved. As Shane walked away, he watched his husband swallowed into the throng of dancers on the floor including a few more of the tour dancers, smiling and waving at Whyley who was currently trying climb Ilya like a tree; he laughed shaking his head.
All-in-all it was a fantastic night. They’d not really had a chance to do more than smile and wave at Taylor and Travis, who were constantly in conversation with someone, taking only brief breaks to dance or listen to some of the performances but they knew they’d catch up with their friends later in the summer; they’d already made plans to come to the cottage for a week in August.
As the night was winding down there was a raffle full of designer items and what appeared to be a car. They’d all received tickets when they’d checked in through security; Shane and Ilya pulled out theirs in anticipation. Shane had his eye on a Hermès Haut à Courroies (HAC) 40 in dark chocolate but most of the other items didn’t interest him. He knew there was one thing Ilya was desperate for though and if his number was pulled for it, he’d let his husband claim it. Sadly, Shane didn’t win the bag, so he handed his ticket to Ilya and watched the rest of the items called and claimed with enthusiasm. The second to last item (before the car) was finally up and Ilya was radiating with anticipation. As the numbers were being called, Shane looked over his husband’s shoulder, following them and smiling his breath catching and finally punching out in a “WHOO-HOO” as the last number confirmed, he’d won!
Everyone turned to the sound of the excited yelling and Taylor and Travis followed the noise, laughing in acknowledgement as they realized who’d won the price.
“Ilya Hollander-Rozanov, it looks like you get to be in my next music video, god help me!”
The crowd cheered and laughed as he waved and bowed, blowing kisses and a mouthed thank you to the couple who smiled and waved, Taylor catching and sending her own kiss to her friend.
Many Hours Later, finally back at the hotel after the celebration and food trucks had wound down…
The men were preparing for bed as Shane reviewed the statement from the foundation about the donation. It would be an Instagram post showing the husbands dressed for the wedding and a picture of the marquee outside of Madison Square Garden reading JUST&T MARRIED. The caption reads:
Taylor and Travis,
We are profoundly moved by your extraordinary donation of $100,000. Your incredible generosity touches our hearts, but your shared passion for mental health advocacy means even more to us. This donation will directly fund vital resources for those who need it most. Thank you for making our mission a part of your beautiful celebration. We wish you both a lifetime of happiness, love, and shared purpose.
Congratulations,
Ilya, Shane, and the Irina Foundation Board
After reading it to Ilya they texted Yuna back with their approval letting her know to post it then next day. As he puts his phone on the charger a thought occurs to him, “hey, didn’t Tay say she was done with videos for Life of a Showgirl?”
Ilya contemplates this, “yes she mentioned something about that when we were at Holiday House, why?”
“Well, if you won an appearance in her next video does that mean,” he trailed off, leaving the theory floating between them.
“A new album?” slightly alarmed at the realization he continued, “we do not talk about what I won, to anyone, да?”
“Yeah of course, but now I’m wondering.”
“Yes everything she says and posts will make me crazy now!”
Three Months Later – August 2026
The Empire State Building is lit up green, a video is posted to TikTok from the official account with the caption “whaTS happening???” Ilya shows his phone to Shane who smiles indulgently at his husband, he couldn’t help himself, “for the record, I knew something was coming before you did,” and he winked, feeling very proud of himself.