“How could I forget?” he asked silkily. “The best dance partner I have ever had.”
“Oh, stop it,” Mrs. Drover said. She was a short woman with gray hair that was cut into a stylish bob. He’d enjoyed a dance with her at a team charity event last year, which had thrilled Harris. Like her son, she was funny and easy to talk to.
“Is true,” Ilya insisted. “No one else has come close. Are you still with your husband?”
“I’m afraid so,” said a booming male voice behind Ilya. He turned and saw Harris’s dad grinning in the doorway.
Ilya sighed theatrically. “Too bad.”
Harris’s sister, Margot, stood to offer Ilya her armchair, but Ilya waved her off and sat cross-legged on the floor. “Are you sure?” Margot asked.
Ilya already had three dogs trying to climb into his lap. “Yes,” he said. “All of my friends are down here.”
Eventually they all moved to the dining room, where they crowded around a table and ate an incredible meal that included baked ham, scalloped potatoes, and, to Ilya’s delight, fresh-baked rolls.
“Dad made those,” Harris said. “They’ll go fast.”
For dessert there was chocolate cake. “This is so good,” Ilya exclaimed after his first bite. “Who made this cake?”
“Troy did!” Harris said proudly.
“With a lot of help,” Troy added quickly. “I’ve never baked a cake before. Or anything, really.”
“You bake together!” Ilya said, grinning. “That is very cute.”
Troy dipped his head, but Ilya could tell he was blushing.
After dinner, Troy asked Ilya if he wanted to go outside with him. Ilya understood that he was looking for privacy, so he nodded and grabbed his coat and hat.
As soon as they were on the front porch, Troy blew out a breath that floated into the frigid darkness as a white puff. “I love that family, but man.”
Ilya laughed. “Is a lot of talking. Like a whole pile of Harrises.” He paused. “You would probably like to be in a pile of Harrises.”
Troy nudged him with his elbow. “Shut up.” He gripped the railing at the front of the porch and gazed up at the night sky. There were already a zillion stars visible. “You know something? This has been the best week of my life.”
“Good to hear.”
“I never thought—” Troy shook his head. “I just didn’t think I could have this, y’know? Have all of it. Being openly gay. Playing hockey. Being with someone as great as Harris. I feel, like, a million pounds lighter.”
Ilya suspected he knew why Troy was telling him this. “You think I should do the same.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do, but yeah. I think you should.”
Troy didn’t know the whole truth, though. He was right, that Ilya coming out as bisexual wouldn’t be such a big deal. Not in a bad way, anyway. But that wasn’t the biggest secret Ilya was hiding.
“I’ve gotten so many messages, or whatever,” Troy said. “People online replying to my posts. Telling me how much it means to them that I came out. I don’t read them, really, but Harris tells me about them. It’s nice.”
“That part is very good,” Ilya agreed.
“I understand hiding, but if I knew how good it felt to be out, I may have done it sooner.” He turned to face Ilya. “So that’s why I’m telling you. So you know.”
Ilya looked at him seriously. “It is not only my secret to tell.”
Troy’s brow furrowed. Then his eyes widened. “Oh. Oh! You’re with someone.”
“Yes.”
“Who’s also closeted?”
“Sort of. Yes.”
“Is it…is it who we talked about before? In New York?”
Troy had almost guessed that Ilya was dating Shane, back in New York in December when Ilya had come out to him. It had confirmed Ilya’s suspicion that anyone who learned Ilya was bisexual would figure out pretty quickly that Shane was his boyfriend.
Ilya didn’t say anything now, just like he hadn’t said anything in New York. He wanted to tell Troy that Shane would be his husband soon. He could, probably. Maybe. Except Ilya still couldn’t quite believe it was actually going to happen.
“It’s none of my business,” Troy said, breaking the heavy silence. “But, um, if it was someone like that, I can see how that would be…complicated. Yeah.”
Ilya turned his attention back to the sky, and changed the subject. “Look. The Big Dipper, yes?”
The door opened behind them and Harris stepped out. Chiron, Mac, and the new dog followed him onto the porch. The new dog immediately went to Ilya, sniffing his sneakers.
“She likes you,” Harris said.
Ilya bent and gave her some pats. “I am hard to resist.” She really was cute. And soft. And she seemed like she’d be a good listener.
“So,” Harris said slowly, “we’re going to have to find her a new home, probably.” He and Troy shared a look, and Harris added, “We love dogs here, but we don’t have room for one more at the moment.”
Ilya narrowed his eyes. “Harris. Are you trying to set me up? Is this a blind date with a dog?”
Harris smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, pal. This is just a friendly dinner with a sweet dog who needs someone to love her and give her a big, fancy house to explore.”
Ilya glanced down at the sweet dog in question, who was gazing at him with her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Could he? There had to be a way to make this work. There were dog daycares, right? Ilya had no idea if they were any good, but he could look into it.
“How do I do it?” he asked. “I have not ever had a dog.”
“Good thing you’re friends with me, then,” Harris said cheerfully. “I’m an expert. And we can keep her here at the farm for a bit until you’re ready to bring her home.”
The dog put her front paws on Ilya’s shin, her mouth stretched in a smile as if she knew what Ilya was thinking.
“Anya,” Ilya said, smiling back at her. “I think her name is Anya.”
Shane had no idea what to expect when he pulled into Ilya’s driveway nearly two weeks after he’d last seen him. Ilya had said he had a surprise for him, and the level of excitement in his voice suggested it was a big one. If they weren’t already engaged, Shane would have thought he might be about to be proposed to.
Ilya’s front door opened as Shane approached. Ilya stood there wearing sweatpants, a loose T-shirt, and an enormous smile.
“What’s the big surprise?” Shane asked.
Then he heard a curious bark behind Ilya. A second later, a smallish fluffy dog trotted out between Ilya’s legs.
“Who’s is this?” Shane asked, eying the dog warily. He wasn’t great with animals. “You dog-sitting for someone?”
“No,” Ilya said, then bent to scoop the dog up in his arms. He cuddled her close to his chest, and the dog licked his cheek lovingly. “This is Anya. She is my dog.”
“You—what? How?”
“Someone abandoned her. In the cold. Monsters,” Ilya growled. Then he kissed the top of Anya’s head. “She needed a home. I needed a dog.”