Isn't It Bromantic?

by Lyssa Kay Adams

  Until now.

  “Maybe I should have just told her the truth,” Vlad said.

  Elena’s stomach clenched. What truth?

  “Yes,” his father scoffed. “I’m sure she will just open right up when you tell her you only proposed because your mother suggested it.”

  Her skin, so hot a moment ago, was now ice-cold. It was a lie. All of it. He was marrying her out of obligation. Nothing more. She tiptoed away, hid in the bathroom, and cried for ten solid minutes. When she was done, she vowed he would never know the truth of how foolish she was. He would never know she’d been stupid enough to believe he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  In the bathroom, the sound of splashing water was followed by the draining of the tub. The squeak of wet hands on the tub. The quiet thud of a foot on the floor, the swish of a towel.

  She crept closer to the door, steeled herself, spoke into the small opening. “Do you need help?”

  “I think I got it.” His voice betrayed nothing.

  “The floor might be slippery.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll be right out.”

  She wanted to run away, lock herself in her own bedroom and hide. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew he’d made it safely out of the bathroom. So she waited, wincing, as the sounds of his crutches approached the door. She pulled it open for him and put enough distance between them to avoid any chance of touching him again. He’d wrapped a dry towel around his waist again, but rivulets of water dripped down his back from his hair.

  “I—I’ll get some clothes for you.”

  “I can dress myself.”

  “Fine. I’ll, um, I’ll be downstairs.”

  “Dammit, Elena. Stop.”

  She hovered in the doorway and stared at the closed door to her room, caught between two worlds. Across the hallway, all her notes, all her work, her future. Behind her, all her desires, all her longings, her past. But he didn’t feel like her past anymore. He felt real. He felt present.

  “What just happened?” he asked, managing to sound both wounded and confused.

  “Nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing.”

  “Then it’s something we need to forget.”

  “Why?”

  She turned around and found him in the same spot as before. Rooted and stuck. “I had a job interview yesterday.”

  His face drained of color. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Moscow Independent.”

  He washed a hand down his face.

  “I mean, it wasn’t really an interview, but I called Yevgeny, and he said he would get back to me in a few days. I have no reason to think he won’t offer me a job.”

  All the warmth and softness evaporated from his eyes. They became as hard as his jawline, his expression as dark as his beard. “Congratulations.”

  “This was always the plan, Vlad.”

  “Not always.” He turned around on his crutches. “You can go now. I don’t need your help anymore.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  By six o’clock, the food was done, the house was full, and Elena wished she could be anywhere else.

  They hadn’t spoken again all day, and Vlad had barely even looked at her. For everyone else, he offered smiles and hugs. But whenever their eyes crossed paths, his face turned to stone. Shortly before the game was supposed to start, the guys got him settled on the couch and then huddled around him in the way they always did. From her spot on the opposite side of the room, she felt the weight of their stares. She looked up to find Mack, Malcolm, and Noah watching her and whispering. They quickly looked away, making it obvious that she’d just busted them talking about her.

  Vlad had probably told them about her job interview and now they hated her too. She gave them her back and pretended it didn’t matter. She sensed someone else staring, but this time it was Alexis, who studied her with a slight tilt to her head and a questioning look in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” Elena asked.

  “I asked if there was anything I could do to help?”

  “Oh. No, thank you.” Elena shook her head to clear the fog. She gestured toward the table covered in food. “Please just enjoy yourself.”

  Alexis looked back and forth between Elena and Vlad before quietly excusing herself.

  “Heads up, girlfriend.” Colton’s sudden voice over her shoulder was a fierce whisper. “Your friends are here.”

  Great. Just when she thought the night couldn’t get any worse, the Loners marched in single file. Elena slapped a hand over her right eye as it began to twitch.

  “What’s wrong?” Colton asked.

  “Hex.”

  Colton tugged her hand away. “Courage, woman. Don’t let them intimidate you.”

  “I’m not intimidated,” Elena hissed.

  But then Michelle walked in, and her voice died. Michelle once again carried a pie plate, but this time she’d added a bottle of wine and a dose of understated sophistication that made Elena wish she’d put a little more thought into her own appearance. Compared to Michelle’s sharp blue shorts and sparkly Vipers T-shirt, Elena felt downright frumpy in her jeans and V-neck jersey.

  Michelle set her pie down among the other food on the dining table and then made a beeline for Elena, smiling brightly. “I brought you a gift,” she said, handing over the wine.

  “For me?” Elena blinked.

  “For the hostess,” Michelle said warmly.

  Elena accepted the bottle, unsure of what to say. “I— Thank you. That is very kind.”

  “It’s my favorite. It’s from a winery in Michigan.”

  Claud barreled in like the bull she was. “Where’s Vlad?”

  Elena pointed to the living room. At the sound of his name, Vlad turned and looked over the back of the couch. He lifted his drink in greeting. The movement tugged his shirt across his chest, and Elena’s mouth went dry. She tore her eyes away.

  Michelle picked up a plate. “This looks amazing. Did you make all this yourself?”

  “I did. I’ve been cooking for days.”

  “Wait until you taste everything,” Colton said. “Elena is a genius.”

  “Anyone can follow a recipe.”

  “Ma!” Linda shoved a plate at her mother. “Be nice.”

  Andrea gushed. “If any of this is half as good as the pancakes you made, I’m going to walk out of here a satisfied woman.” She preened for Colton’s sake as she dropped a dumpling onto her plate.

  Colton took the bait with a wink and a lean. “Darlin’, I guarantee you’ll walk out of here satisfied if you stick with me tonight.”

  Michelle caught Elena’s gaze, and they shared an eye roll and a hidden smile that made Elena think they’d be friends in different circumstances. But circumstances were not different, and the fleeting sense of belonging left a hollow space inside her.

  Alexis leaned over the table and gasped. “Are those blini?”

  “They are,” Elena said, surprised.

  Alexis made a lustful noise and plopped two of the cheese-filled crepe-style pastries on her plate. “Oh my God, I haven’t had these in so long.”

  “Where have you had them before?”

  “Culinary school,” Alexis said. She took a bite and moaned in a way that brought Noah swiveling around. “We didn’t do a lot of Russian foods, but a few. These are my favorite. I cannot believe you made these. I’m going to eat them all.”

  The praise mattered more than it should. Elena lifted her shoulder. “I like to cook.”

  “Well, that’s convenient,” said Liv, Mack’s wife, as she elbowed past Alexis. “Because Vlad likes to eat.”

  Elena forced a smile on her face and tried to participate in the conversation as if nothing was amiss. “I think I’m driving him crazy, to be honest. I fuss too much.”


  “All men liked to be fussed over,” Andrea said. “Makes them feel loved. Of course, some sexy lingerie never hurt anyone either.”

  “Except your husband,” Claud snorted.

  “Ma!”

  Elena met Michelle’s smile with one of her own. A real one this time. The unfamiliar sense of camaraderie grew.

  “So you and Vlad grew up in the same town?” That was from Malcolm’s wife, Tracy.

  “Yes,” Elena nodded, sneak-glancing at Vlad again. “We grew up in Omsk. It’s in the southern part of Siberia.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know much about Russian geography,” Andrea admitted, selecting a cookie. “How far is Omsk from Moscow?”

  “Very far. Almost three thousand kilometers. I was born in Moscow, actually, but we moved to Omsk after my mother died.”

  Alexis made a sympathetic noise and rested her hand briefly on Elena’s arm. “I’m so sorry. How old were you?”

  “Nine.”

  The pity on their faces stiffened her spine. She could read their minds from the look in their eyes. Poor little Elena, who had to marry her best friend to get out of Russia like an unloved orphan. Who had to learn to cook as a child because her father was off saving the world.

  She lifted her chin. “And to answer your question, Claud, yes, I am leaving soon. I had an interview yesterday with a newspaper in Moscow.”

  It was like a record scratching in the room. Even the TV blaring from the surround-sound speakers seemed to quiet as every eye in the room widened.

  One of the guys did a shitty job of whispering to Vlad, “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Vlad answered, and she didn’t have to see his face to know he was forcing the word through a clenched jaw. “It is true.”

  So apparently, he hadn’t told his friends yet. And they were not happy about it, judging by the way they crowded around him and began to gesture like a pack of hyenas on a kill.

  “Wow,” Andrea said, stammering to cover the tension. “Congratulations on the interview.”

  “Yes,” Michelle said. “Congratulations. That sounds like a great opportunity.”

  Claud huffed. “When will you be gone?”

  Linda shoved a cookie in her mother’s mouth.

  “I don’t know yet. It was just a preliminary interview, but I—” Elena paused and cleared her throat. “I will be going back to Chicago first anyway. Probably soon.” The words left a sour taste on her tongue.

  “Are you sure?” Alexis said. “We’ve only just started to get to know you.”

  “It’s for the best,” Elena said, forcing her chin higher.

  “Just promise me you won’t leave until we have a chance to get together again,” Michelle said. “Please, Elena. Promise me.”

  She put just enough sincerity into her voice that Elena could almost let herself believe she was part of the club. Or that these women wanted her to be.

  But she knew better. These were Vlad’s people. Vlad’s family. She didn’t belong here.

  The doorbell rang, and the entire room let out a relieved breath.

  “I will get that,” Michelle said, setting down her plate and glass.

  A few moments later, she returned with a dazed, glassy-eyed expression followed by a man in a tight pair of jeans and a leather jacket.

  Every woman swayed on her feet.

  Cheese Man.

  * * *

  * * *

  Vlad tipped back his glass and demolished an ice cube with his molars.

  He and the guys were huddled like a sad rec-league team watching the opposing players warm up and wondering where the hell they found the new, young sniper. In the dining room, Cheese Man stood center stage like a celebrity chef at a food show. The women surrounded him, seduced by his every word as he explained the virtues of the slow dairy movement.

  “Do you know what happens when a cow is milked too many times a day? Their stress levels increase, like an overworked mother who just needs a little tender loving care.”

  In the center of the table, he’d set up a Girolle wheel and a fresh hunk of Swiss. With every crank of the handle, he shaved off a feather-thin layer of cheese and a year from Vlad’s nerves.

  “Stress affects the quality of the milk, and that affects the quality of the cheese. They must be treated with tenderness.” He turned the crank and added a little twist to his hips. “Worship the miracle of their bodies. They must be caressed and nurtured. And you can taste the difference.”

  He lifted a slice of cheese and leaned toward Elena, who opened her mouth like a goddamned baby bird and let Cheese Man place it on her tongue. She sighed and closed her eyes.

  “You taste the difference, don’t you?” he murmured, trailing a finger down her jaw.

  “Mmmm,” she moaned.

  Vlad tossed another ice cube in his mouth and broke it in half. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  Colton shrugged. “A super-hot man who knows how to make cheese sound like an orgasm.”

  “He’s hitting on every woman here. Why aren’t any of you mad about it?”

  Mack shrugged. “I don’t care if Liv wants to taste his cheddar. She’s coming home to my salami.”

  The guys all groaned in disgust.

  “That was beneath you, dude,” Noah said, his tone betraying his own anxiety about Alexis’s rapt attention to the way Cheese Man gripped his Gouda.

  Elena giggled at something Cheese Man said. Vlad felt the blow of it all the way across the room like he’d just been Kronwalled onto his ass. “I’m going to break his balls.”

  “This is a side of the Russian I’ve never seen before,” Mack mused, downing the last swallow of a beer.

  “What side is that?” Vlad crushed another ice cube.

  “Jealous.”

  “I am not jealous.”

  “You sure seem jealous.”

  “I am annoyed. This is my party and my house, and no one is even watching the game because . . . look at him!”

  They all turned in time to see Cheese Man hand a Brie-smeared cracker to Michelle. She plucked it from his fingers with her lips. A swoon went up from the women.

  Vlad tipped his glass back again but found it empty. He cursed under his breath.

  “This is interesting,” Malcolm said, stroking his beard. “I am always intrigued by what it is that finally pushes each man over his limit, what it takes to bring out that inner caveman we’re always trying to suppress. It is a process to overcome a lifetime of toxic masculinity and to—” His voice cut off as Cheese Man picked up Tracy’s hand and kissed it. “I will break his balls.”

  Vlad pointed with his empty glass. “Ha, see? It is not so easy to ignore when it is your woman he is hitting on.”

  The guys all lifted a collective eyebrow. Vlad realized his mistake. “Not that, I mean . . . Elena is not my woman. We are getting a—a . . . you know.”

  Mack tilted his head. “Are you trying to say divorce?”

  “You know what I’m trying to say!”

  “I do. What I find interesting is that you can’t bring yourself to say it.”

  “Shut up.”

  Mack faced him head-on, blocking his view of the women. “Why won’t you just admit it, man?”

  Vlad gripped his empty glass tighter. “I have nothing to admit.”

  Noah snorted. “How about the fact that you don’t want a divorce?”

  Vlad hissed at him to keep his voice down. But a quick peek at the dining room told him no one had heard. The women were still too transfixed by how Cheese Man turned his crank.

  Mack laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, man. You don’t have to keep up this lie. Not with us.”

  “I’ve made my peace with the status of my marriage,” he finally said.

  “The expression on your face right now is not one of peac
e, man.”

  “Then consider it one of acceptance.”

  “It’s one of defeat, nut sack.” Mack snorted.

  “You heard her. She had a job interview in Moscow. She’s leaving.”

  “Don’t you want to fight for her?” Noah asked.

  “I’m done fighting for her.”

  Another squeal went up from the dining room. Cheese Man was now waxing poetic about the aphrodisiac qualities of Parmesan.

  “I hate him so much,” Vlad seethed.

  “Kick him out. It’s your party.”

  Cheese Man trailed his fingers up Elena’s arm before feeding her a slice of Parm.

  Then the room became painted in a red filter as Cheese Men lowered his head.

  And kissed his fucking wife.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  And just like that, the party was over.

  One minute, Elena was wincing in anticipation of a kiss on the cheek. The next, Vlad was standing on both his legs and bellowing for everyone to get the fuck out.

  The guys all gathered their wives with we’ll talk about it later urgency and hurried them outside, followed quickly by the Loners, who were already whispering like gossiping hens.

  Face flaming, Elena walked Cheese Man to the door. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into him. He’s not usually like this.”

  Cheese Man lifted her knuckles to his lips. “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “No, you don’t. We’re getting a divorce.”

  Cheese Man studied her with a small smirk. “Are you sure about that?”

  Elena shut the door, clenched her fists, and stormed back to the living room. She found Vlad huffing and puffing, his hand wrapped around a half-empty glass of something that was probably bad for his stomach.

  “I. Cannot. Believe you.” Elena grabbed the remote from where it had landed on the floor when Vlad leaped to his feet. She zapped off the game. “What the hell were you thinking, jumping up like that? You could have hurt yourself again. And do you have any idea how humiliating that was?”

  “I have some idea, yes.” He took a long drink and hissed at the burn. He downed the rest of the liquor and dropped the empty glass to the floor.