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Summary
What if instead of walking in on Shane and Ilya making out, what if David came across Ilya alone at the Cottage?
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“I’m David. Hollander. Shane’s dad.”
Ilya genuinely couldn’t figure out what the fuck to do. He needed to send out an SOS, but he had set his phone down somewhere and had no idea if it was in the sunroom, bedroom, or bathroom, and wasn’t about to go dash around to hunt it down. And as hard as he wracked his brain, he couldn’t come up with a single plausible explanation for his presence in Shane’s summer home other than, “I’m in love with your son. We have been fucking since we were teenagers. We have a ten year plan.”
Instead, what he choked out was, “Sorry. No English.”