“Elena, I’m sorry—”
She crouched to zip up her backpack. “Why? It’s my fault. I put you in an awkward position. I shouldn’t have come without talking to you first.”
“What are you doing?” Because it looked like she was getting ready to leave right that second, and dammit, he didn’t want that either.
“You have a lot to deal with, obviously,” she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. “Maybe it would be easier if I just go unlock the house instead of you trying to track down your neighbor. I still have a key. And then I can stay at a hotel tonight before heading back to Chicago tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to stay at a damn hotel,” he growled. “You have a bedroom.”
Elena stood, swung her backpack over her shoulder, and extended the handle on her suitcase. The wheels made a click-click noise against the floor as she crossed the room before pausing at the end of his bed. “If you need anything from the house, do you want me to have someone from the team bring it over?”
A familiar panic seized his chest. “Are you leaving? You don’t have to go right now, Elena.”
“Or I can bring stuff to you tomorrow. I can stop by before I go to the airport to say—” Her words got stuck on something in her throat that she had to cough to clear. “To say goodbye.”
The door to his room swung open once again before he could respond. He bit off his words with a scowl at whomever had the bad luck to interrupt right now. The team’s media manager poked his head around the corner. “Can I come in?”
Elena held Vlad’s gaze for a split second before greeting the unwanted visitor. “Yes. Come in.”
The media manager looked back and forth between them, finally catching up to the drama apparently unfolding in front of him. “Um, I can come back.”
“Can you please give us a minute?” Vlad asked.
“No need,” Elena said, her voice clipped and her lips thin. “I was just leaving.”
She walked toward the door without looking back.
“Elena, wait—” Vlad tried to sit up as he called her name, but the tightness in his leg sent him flinging back with an argh.
The door clicked shut with quiet finality.
CHAPTER THREE
“Where y’all from?”
Elena looked out the window from the back seat of the Uber she’d called to pick her up from the hospital. “Chicago.”
The driver, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile, laughed. “No, I mean originally. Your accent.”
Not a week had gone by since she’d come to America that she didn’t get asked that. Some days she was willing to offer details, but today wasn’t one of those days. “Russia,” she answered plainly.
“I thought so. I thought maybe Ukraine or somewhere in that region. What part of Russia?”
“Moscow,” she lied, because no one ever knew where Omsk was, and when she explained that it was part of Siberia, they always wanted to know how cold it was, and she just didn’t have the energy for that kind of small talk right now.
“Cool,” the man said. “What brings you to Nashville?”
“Just visiting a friend in the hospital.”
“Hope everything is okay.”
She smiled because it was the polite American thing to do. “Yes. He is going to be fine.”
The driver must have finally caught on to her reluctance to converse, because he turned up the radio and settled into his driving. Elena returned her attention to the passing scenery. She didn’t recognize much of it. In the few months she lived with Vlad after they got married, they’d rarely gone out together beyond the borders of the suburb where he lived.
But when the Uber driver took the exit, things started to look more familiar. Big trees and wide lawns on twisty-turny streets protected the rich and famous from the riffraff that might wander in without permission. When she joined Vlad in America—her visa was delayed, so she didn’t join him until a few weeks after they were married—she had expected a nice house because he was a professional athlete. Everyone knew that American athletes made a lot of money, and he’d already been playing here for a year. But when he’d pulled into his long, tree-lined driveway and she saw his soaring brick house for the first time, her mouth dropped open, her voice reduced to a useless squeak. A girl from Omsk could never imagine such grandeur.
The effect was different this time when the Uber driver pulled in. The magic was gone.
“Wow,” the driver said. “Nice place. Is your friend famous or something?”
It was a safe assumption. Nashville’s suburbs were home to the world’s biggest country music stars. “He’s done well for himself,” Elena offered, opening her own door.
The driver got out and went around to the back to get her suitcase. He set it on the paved driveway, and Elena thanked him as she hoisted her backpack on her shoulder. As the driver pulled away, she tipped him on the app and then climbed the cement steps to the small front porch. The door was black and flanked by two long windowpanes. The first time she’d come here, she’d been afraid to look inside as Vlad unlocked the door. Her stomach had churned and twisted as he opened the door and stepped aside for her to go in first. Her shoes had echoed on the glossy floor in the cavernous entryway, but his were a soft, gentle thud as he came up behind her.
“Welcome home.” His voice was a honey glaze, warm and sweet and soft.
In her peripheral vision, she saw him lift his hand as if to touch her. She moved away.
Elena shook off the memory and pushed open the door. Not much had changed. The same decorative table that had been there before was still there, still a deposit for loose change and mail and other odds and ends from his pockets at the end of the day. Pulling her suitcase behind her, Elena walked toward the wide staircase that bisected the entryway. Ahead was the kitchen. To the left was a large living room with a fireplace and a wall of bookshelves. To the right was a dining room with French doors leading to a covered patio. Her first night there all those years ago, he’d ordered takeout and set it out on the patio with candles. She’d taken her plate and eaten in her room.
“Who the hell are you?”
Elena let out a startled shriek and slapped a hand to her chest. At the end of the hallway, a gray-haired woman with a deep scowl stood with her hands on her hips and a massive dog at her side. The black Newfoundland let out a thunderous bark and launched into a gallop toward Elena. She barely had time to stretch out her palms to ward off the coming attack before the dog jumped and planted his paws on her shoulders. Elena collided with the railing to the staircase as she stumbled under his weight. With another loud woof, the dog dragged his long tongue up the side of her face.
“I said, who the hell are you and what are you doing in Vlad’s house?” the old woman demanded.
“Can you please call off your dog?” Elena begged. She loved dogs. All dogs. In fact, she preferred dogs to most humans. But this one could fit her whole head in his mouth, and she wasn’t sure if the licking meant I love you or I’m going to eat you.
“It’s not my dog,” the woman said.
“Well, whose is it?” Elena asked. Had Vlad gotten a dog and not told her about it? She thought his rejection in the hospital stung, but not telling her that he’d adopted a pet would be an outright fuck you.
“I’m not answering any of your questions until I know who you are,” the old woman argued. “Are you some kind of stalker? One of those lunatic groupies who chase after famous athletes or whatever? How did you even get in here?” She spoke over her shoulder. “Call the police, Linda.”
Elena snapped out of her stunned state. “I don’t think so,” she said, gently pushing the dog away. He dropped all four paws to the floor and wagged his bushy tail. Elena gave him a tentative pat on the head and sidestepped him to face the intruder at the end of the hallway. “I will be calling the police.”
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The old woman snorted. “For what? We have a right to be here.”
“Really? So do I.”
“Bullshit. Who are you?”
Elena crossed her arms. “I am his wife.”
Just then, two more women raced into the hallway to stand next to the gray-haired one. They wore matching expressions of OMG.
“Elena?” the old woman croaked.
“Holy crap,” said the one in the middle. Was that Linda? Elena realized upon closer inspection that she looked like a younger and less-intimidating version of the older one. The third woman, a trim fifty-something in yoga pants and bright lipstick, squeak-gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand.
“I can’t believe it,” the older one hissed. “You have some nerve, showing up here like this. Does he even know you’re here?”
Elena stiffened in indignation. “Yes, he knows I’m here. I spent the night at the hospital with him.”
“That’s a lie,” the old woman said.
“Ma!” The younger one glared. “Stop.”
“What?” the old one snapped. “You expect me to be nice to her after everything she has put him through?” She turned an accusing finger at Elena. “You have no idea what he’s been like the past few months.”
Wow. This woman really, really hated her. What had Vlad told them?
Probably the truth.
Elena swallowed her own reproach. The dog, as if sensing her discomfort, scooted closer to her and leaned against her legs. Elena had to brace her hand against the railing of the staircase to keep from falling again.
“Ignore my mother,” the nicer one said. She walked forward and extended her hand. “I’m Linda. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Elena stared at the woman’s long fingers skeptically before slowly accepting the handshake.
“That is my mother, Claud,” Linda said, gesturing reluctantly to the cranky one. Then she nodded to the one in yoga pants. “And this is Andrea.”
“We’re Vlad’s neighbors,” Andrea said. “When we heard about what happened, we decided to come by and help get the house ready for him. We were cleaning out his fridge.”
Elena tucked her hands under her arms. “That’s very kind of you, but I can take care of everything.”
Claud made an ugly, nasally noise.
Linda looked at the ceiling as if praying for peace and said, “Ma, please.”
The dog, whose owner had yet to be determined, woofed and leaned harder into Elena’s legs.
“We’re the Loners,” Andrea said.
“The what?” Elena said.
“That’s what we call ourselves because our husbands are all dead.”
Elena cleared her throat. “How . . . unfortunate.”
“Technically,” Andrea clarified, “I got divorced before my ex-husband died.”
“My condolences.”
Andrea shrugged. “We started coming over here almost every day to have coffee with Vlad when he’s home, and now he’s a member of our little club. We swap recipes, gossip about the neighbors, stuff like that.”
“I see.” Actually, Elena didn’t see. At all. Every word out of their mouths wove a thicker and thicker cobweb in her brain. The beginnings of a headache throbbed a warning behind her temples. Elena pressed her fingers into one as she tried to make sense of the situation. “I don’t understand. Why exactly is Vlad in your club?”
“Because he’s alone, too, thanks to you,” Claud sneered.
“Ma,” Linda hissed. “Stop.”
Elena squared her shoulders. “I am sure he will appreciate that you stopped by to help, but I have to get ready for the team to drop off some equipment for him—”
“And then you’ll be leaving, right?” Claud said.
“Ma!” Linda said. “Vlad wouldn’t like this.”
“Because he’s too tender for his own good.” Claud lowered her voice. “And what will Michelle think?”
Elena blinked as the name of another woman rocketed through her. “Michelle?”
“Another member of our club,” Andrea said quickly. Too quickly. “Except her husband isn’t dead. They’re divorced because he cheated on her, so we just wish he was dead.”
Elena rubbed both temples.
Claud pointed that accusatory finger again. “Why did you come back here? Afraid his injury means he won’t be able to play anymore and you’ll be cut off from his money?”
The oxygen evaporated Elena’s lungs in a whoosh. Claud’s words hit a target deep inside Elena’s worst insecurities and shame.
“Let’s go,” Linda said, tugging her mother’s elbow. Then to Elena, she said, “I’m sorry. She’s very protective of him.”
“So am I.”
“If that were true, you’d leave,” Claud said.
Once again, the woman’s words hit their mark. And once again, it was because Elena knew she was right. But Elena had just enough self-respect left to not want to give Claud the satisfaction of knowing how much the old woman had hurt her. Or to tell her that Elena would, in fact, be leaving soon because Vlad didn’t want her here anymore than Claud apparently did.
Elena steeled her spine. “You can think whatever you want about me, but I am here for one reason only. To help Vlad. Whether you believe me or not is out of my control. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I have a lot to do to get ready for my husband to come home.”
“Of course,” Linda said calmly. “Please tell Vlad we’re thinking of him.”
“I will.” Elena reached down and scratched the dog’s ears.
“His food is in the kitchen pantry, by the way,” Linda said, gesturing to the dog.
“This is Vlad’s dog?” She asked the question before realizing it simply proved Claud’s point that she was a shitty wife.
“No,” Andrea said. “He belongs to the people across the street, but he sort of adopted Vlad too. He’ll bark at the door to leave eventually.”
More cobwebs. “Someone else’s dog comes here to hang out?”
Linda shrugged. “There’s a cat that comes around too. Vlad had a pet door installed in the garage to let her come and go as she pleases.”
Of course he did. Because he was Vlad.
Linda grabbed her mother’s arm and started to tug her toward the front door. “Let us know if we can do anything to help,” she said.
“Thank you.”
Andrea paused next to Elena. “It’s really nice to meet you,” she said with a giggle. “You’re as pretty as he always said you were.”
Cheeks blazing, Elena crossed her arms across her chest and watched the three women leave. When they were gone, she looked down at Neighbor Dog—that would have to be his name for now—and patted his head. He woofed and wagged his tail. At least he didn’t have any preconceived notions about her.
Sighing, Elena picked up her backpack and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. Neighbor Dog followed slowly behind her as she lugged both up the stairs and down the long hallway on the second floor. Her room was the last on the right, directly across from Vlad’s. Her door was closed, and when she opened it, the silence inside was like an accusation. Everything was the same. Exactly as she’d left it. And though nothing was really hers—not the paisley bedspread or the white dresser or the matching lamps on either side of the bed—she remembered them. Like a child who goes to visit an aunt after several years and ends up sleeping in the same room as the last visit. Everything was familiar but strange.
Elena set her things on the floor by the bed. Someone had cleaned in here recently. The carpet bore the stripes of a recent vacuuming, and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen on the TV, the desk, the dresser. Even the attached bathroom was spotless. A peek under the sink revealed all her products were still there, waiting for her return. Shampoo and conditioner and shaving cream and honeysuckle-scented bodywash.
She’d left them here when she went to school, and Vlad had stored them for her eventual return. She lifted the bodywash, flipped open the lid, and inhaled the scent. She closed the lid and put it away before it brought back too many memories.
She returned to the bed and gave in to the weakness in her knees, much like she had the first night she spent here. It was the nicest bed she’d ever seen. Plush and full, with enough pillows to accidentally smother someone. Or, as she discovered, to smother the sounds of crying. She did a lot of it that night. And then, hours later as she lay awake in the dark, eyes puffy and head throbbing, she vowed she’d never cry again. And she hadn’t until six months ago when she’d stood in front of him, looking sexier than any man had a right to in his tuxedo, and told him she was leaving him.
Even now, months later, she couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at her at the wedding. So full of hope and joy. Until he wasn’t. She’d broken him. The man who had saved her. The man who had been her childhood best friend.
Neighbor Dog leaped onto the bed and flopped down with his head in her lap. She buried her fingers in his thick black fur. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. Vlad had always wanted a pet, but his travel schedule made it impossible because he couldn’t leave them alone. Something else she’d stolen from him.
The sudden blare of her phone made her jump a full inch off the mattress. It was a Nashville number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Konnikova? This is Tess Bowden. I’m one of the trainers from the Vipers. We’re going to be there in a few minutes with the home rehabilitation equipment. Are you ready for us?”
“Yes, I’ll watch for you.”
“Great,” the woman said. “We’re about ten minutes away.”
Elena left her room with Neighbor Dog at her heels and found herself staring at the open door to Vlad’s bedroom. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in there. Which was as sad a commentary on the reality of their marriage as anything. At first, she’d avoided going in there because it was awkward. But then because it was too painful. Every time she stepped foot in his private space, the ring on her finger would grow heavy with the weight of his disappointment.
Isn't It Bromantic? Page 5
