Simone Moreau was a stunning woman.

​

She had that effortless elegance that Shea associated with French women of a certain age. 

​

Dressed in breezy linen and understated jewelry, she could have looked casual and rumpled, but her silver, shoulder-length hair and sharp cheekbones were too aristocratic for her to ever look anything less than perfectly pulled together. 

​

What fascinated Shea most was that he could see her lines echoed in Dom’s face and body, even down to some of their mannerisms, like the way they tucked their hair behind their ears. 

​

Simone laughed at something Dom said, and her husband, Bernard, smiled. 

​

“Simone has been waiting for this moment for a long time,” he murmured, his accent thick but his English flawless. 

​

“I think Dom has too.” Shea’s voice was equally soft. 

​

Dom’s mother and stepfather had picked them up at the train station several hours ago and Shea had spent most of the time since talking to the vineyard owner.

​

Dom and his mother only had eyes for each other. 

​

They spoke in a tangle of French and English, tripping over their words and each other’s in their hurry to catch up with one another.

​

Shea’s eyes burned as he looked at Dom’s and Simone’s fingers knitted together on the tablecloth amidst the remnants of their lunch. 

​

There had been rich cheeses and salty, briny black olive tapenade. Crusty loaves of bread and roast chicken, tomatoes stuffed with pesto, several fresh salads, and the most incredible fish Shea had ever eaten.

​

Shea had devoured more than his share of plum tart and they’d all enjoyed copious glasses of white Burgundy wine, made here at the château’s winery. 

​

But it wasn’t the incredible food that had Shea feeling sentimental now. 

​

It was how happy Dom was, how much he’d clearly needed this moment, this reconnection with his mother. 

​

Shea sighed, contentment settling into his bones. After the busy week exploring Paris, he felt pleasantly tired. 

​

Now, the late afternoon sun beat down on the estate’s patio, moderated a little by the dappled shade from the trellis covered in the most beautiful purple flower Shea had ever seen.

​

Bees buzzed sleepily somewhere in the distance, and the food and wine relaxed him further, but it was the look on Dom’s face that made every last bit of tension slip from Shea’s shoulders.

​

Dom looked peaceful, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes as he listened to a story his mother told.

​

It was clear this reunion was going well. 

​

“We’ll take you on a tour of the vineyard tomorrow,” Bernard said.

 

“I’d love that. And to learn more about the renovation of your château.”

​

“We’ll have plenty of time for that,” he said, tone jovial.  

​

Shea smiled, pouring a glass of sparkling water from a nearby bottle, before nudging it toward Dom.

 

He shot Shea a fleeting smile as he took it, nodding at something his mother said. 

Under the yellow, blue, and white patterned tablecloth, their feet bumped, and Dom captured Shea’s foot between his own. 

​

He glanced over, smiling at Shea and absently touching his forehead in the same gesture he’d used on the ice. 

​

I love you, without words.

​

Shea touched his right ear, tugging a little at the small pearl earring he wore, and Dom’s smile widened. 

​

***

 

“Non, Maman, I am already stuffed,” Dom protested later that day, declining another of the nonnettes his mother pushed toward him. “And I’m not training like I was before. I don’t need as much food as I used to.”

​

He’d eaten three when she’d brought the dessert out after dinner. They’d been a childhood favorite of his, and he’d been hit by a sudden wave of nostalgia. But his stomach was starting to ache, especially after the incredible dinner they’d eaten. 

Which was on top of the incredible lunch earlier …

​

Dom knew she was just trying to make up for lost time but at this rate, his stomach would explode. 

​

She laughed and nodded, cupping his cheeks in both her hands. “There is always tomorrow,” she said, her expression filled with joy. 

​

“Yes.”  Though their first day together had flown by and he was already dreading that they’d have to leave in a week.

​

Earlier, when he’d mentioned that to Shea, he’d suggested Dom think about staying a little longer. 

​

He said he didn’t mind going back to Toronto alone, but Dom was torn. He wanted this time with his mother—they’d already missed out on so much of his life—but he wasn’t eager to be apart from Shea, either. 

​

He looked at him now, laughing at something Bernard said, and smiled. 

​

“You love him very much,” Simone murmured.

​

Dom nodded, unable to tear his gaze from Shea, drinking in his bright smile and strong arms and the way he occasionally played with the earring Dom had bought him.

​

“How can I not?” Dom asked with a laugh, tempted by more of the incredible wine but reaching for water instead. “I mean, look at him. Handsome, smart, kind, funny …”

​

“He is good for you, I think,” she said thoughtfully. 

​

Dom laughed softly. “I know he is. Probably too good for me.” 

​

Simone shook her head. “No, it is good that you have this. Have him.”

​

“It took me a while to figure out he was the one for me,” Dom admitted. 

​

“I held Bernard away from me for a very long time.”

​

“Why is that?” Dom asked with a frown. 

​

“Oh, many reasons.” She sipped her glass of wine, ruby red in the candlelight. “But I did not think I was allowed to be happy.”

​

Dom winced. “Because of what happened with Dad?”

​

She sighed. “The situation with your father was very complicated. You know that now.”

“I do.” He swallowed hard. 

​

“But it was hurting you—losing you—that was the worst.”

​

“I’m sorry—”

​

“No.” She patted his hand. “It is not your apology to make. You thought I was angry at you for telling me. That is my fault. My mistake.”

​

“But I ignored your calls … your letters.”

​

“There is much to regret,” she said, and he nodded because that was very true. “But blame is pointless.”

​

When he thought of all of those years they could have had together—the relationship they could have had—he was tempted to argue. 

​

“I would rather focus on being glad to be with you again,” she said softly. 

​

So instead of arguing, he flipped his hand over and took hers, squeezing it, his eyes a little damp. It had been an emotional day. He was tired and drained from it all, but there was a feeling growing inside of him that hadn’t been there in a long time. 

​

He couldn’t quite name it, but he would say it felt like coming home after a long road trip. A sudden, settled feeling in his chest as the stress of everything else melted away. 

It was how he felt around Shea. 

​

“I like Bernard for you,” Dom admitted.  

​

Dom had gone into this expecting to dislike the man his mother had married. But he was warmer than Dom had expected. Kinder. More humble. And completely smitten with Dom’s mother. 

​

Dom loved that for her. 

​

She gave him a brilliant smile. “We are all happy now.”

​

With a sudden start, Dom realized it was true. His father and Robert, his mother and Bernard, him and Shea. This was a life he couldn’t have imagined six months ago. 

​

“I am not pushing,” she said. “But if you ever wanted to get married, well, we do host a number of weddings throughout the year. We’d love to host it for you, if you’d like.”

​

“Someday,” Dom said absently, imagining it. “If that’s what Shea wants.”

​

It wouldn’t have to be huge. Just big enough for his teammates—former teammates, he thought in a moment of wistfulness—and a few friends and family. And the upside was that it would be very private. 

​

No one would be able to take intrusive photos. 

​

Everyone at the table had just lapsed into a comfortable silence when his mother sat up straight. “Oh! It is our song, Bernard.”

​

There had been music playing in the background, something low and pleasant, that Dom had hardly noticed. 

​

“Your song?” Dom asked. 

​

She gave him a small smile. “When we first met, Bernard was married. We—there was a spark but I wanted nothing to do with him. Yet, we kept running into each other at events. After his divorce, Bernard made it clear he was interested in dating me, but I—I wasn’t ready. One night, we attended a charity event and there was music playing. He asked me to dance. I don’t know what made me say yes. Too much wine perhaps. But we danced and it was magical. I still tried to push him away after that, but he was very patient.”

​

She shot him a soft glance. 

​

Dom glanced over at Shea. “Sometimes patience is what it takes.”

​

Bernard stood and walked around the table, holding out a hand to Simone. “Dance with me?”

​

She laughed, glancing at Dom, who shrugged. Why not? This was their home, after all. And besides, it was nice to see his mother glow that way. 

​

Although the dining room held a large table—easily big enough to seat twelve at the massive oak slab—there was plenty of space for them to glide across the floors, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

​

Dom suddenly realized he’d never seen that kind of affection between his parents and nodded to himself. Yes, it was so much better for them to have found the right people now. To be free to be with them. 

​

Dom watched them dance for a moment before he stood and walked over to Shea, holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

​

Shea blinked. “Uhh, sure.”

​

It took a moment for them to figure out who was going to lead, but once they did, they settled into the rhythm of the song, something slow and a little sultry. 

​

“You’re a much better dancer than I expected,” Shea said quietly as they swayed together. 

​

“I learned from my mother.” He nodded toward her. “All of those old movies, you know?”

​

“You’re a secret romantic, aren’t you?” Shea said. He sounded delighted by it.

​

“Maybe,” Dom said with a shrug. “Maybe you just bring that out in me.”

​

Shea smiled. 

​

 Dom gave him an appraising look. “You’re quite good at dancing too.”

​

“All part of the Select training,” Shea said quietly. 

​

“Ahh.” Dom nodded. That made sense. 

​

“Will you tell them?” Shea nodded toward Simone and Bernard.

​

“That I paid you for sex?”  Dom asked. 

​

“Yeah.”

​

He shrugged. “Probably, at some point. I doubt they’ll find it particularly shocking.”

​

“Are the French ever shocked by sex?”

​

Dom laughed. “They’re certainly less uptight than North Americans.”

​

“Speaking of sex,” Shea said softly, his breath warm as it brushed Dom’s ear. “The room we’re staying in is very far from the main bedroom, and I feel like we could have fun with the four-poster bed. Select also made sure I knew how to tie someone up safely …”

​

“Oh, did they now?” Dom grinned. “It seems like you’ve been holding out on me.”

​

“Nah.” Shea slid a hand lower and squeezed his ass. “Just training for our future.”

​

Dom smiled. Hopefully, it would be a very, very long one.