“We should get married,” Ilya said. “What?” Shane flushed right down to his toes. “Not to each other,” Ilya said. Then he started laughing and couldn’t stop. “I knew you didn’t mean to each other,” Shane lied.
He wanted to tell Shane that the closest he felt to home was when he was with him. It didn’t matter if it was in a hotel room, or Ilya’s apartment, or at that weird hideout building Shane bought in Montreal, or here at Shane’s cottage; he was himself when he was with Shane.
DUDE...
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