Isn't It Bromantic (Bromance Book Club #4) by Lyssa Kay Adams
But she didn’t have to go back to Russia to do those things. She had options she’d never considered before because she’d never let herself consider them before. She’d never allowed herself to believe that she could have any kind of future in America because she’d never believed she could have any kind of future with Vlad.
She eased the car back onto the road and pointed it toward home. When the phone rang again, she knew this time it was Vlad.
“Hey,” he said when she answered.
She considered telling him immediately about her call with Yevgeny but decided to wait. There was too much to tell him. And she would tell him. Just not yet. “How’d it go today?”
“Good. My coach came to see me.”
“Finally.”
“He, um . . .” Vlad cleared his throat. “Would you be willing to go to the game with me tonight?”
“Like a real hockey wife?”
“Like my wife.”
She bit her lip to stave off emotion. “I would love that,” she finally answered.
He let out a relieved breath, as if he had actually thought she’d say no. “What time will you be home?” he asked.
“In about a half hour.”
“Good. Meet me in our bed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The team sent a car for them just before seven that night so they wouldn’t have to navigate the downtown traffic.
“I’m nervous,” Elena said.
Vlad slung his arm around her in the back seat and kissed her hair. She smelled like orange blossoms and looked amazing in her too-big hockey jersey with his name across the back. “It will be fun.”
“What if people ask me questions about where I’ve been or—”
“They won’t. And if for some reason they do, I’ll be there to deal with them.”
Vlad was nervous, too, but for a different reason. It had already been released to the media that he was planning to attend the game, and the team’s media staff wanted him to do a live on-air interview after the first period. All of which meant there was zero chance that an image of him with Elena wouldn’t find its way into Russian media. But he still hadn’t told his parents that Elena was even here with him, much less that they were together.
Vlad dug his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “We need to make a phone call.”
She looked up at him. “Who?” She immediately made an o with her mouth.
“I don’t want them to find out from a picture in the press.”
“I don’t either.”
Vlad hit the button for his mother’s contact. It would be almost six in the morning in Omsk, so she’d be awake by now. He held his breath as he waited for her to answer.
“You do remember my phone number,” she said in lieu of hello.
He cut her off before she could lecture him again or, God forbid, get his father involved. “Mama, before you get going, there’s someone I want you to talk to.”
Elena gave him an are you kidding? look as he handed her the phone. But she took it and pressed it to her ear. “Hi, Mama.”
Vlad could hear his mother’s voice. “Elena?!”
Vlad pressed a fist to his mouth to smother a laugh, and Elena pounded her fist into his chest.
“Yes, I’m here,” Elena said before pausing. “Well, right now we’re on our way to the game.” Another pause. “Since the day after the surgery.” Elena winced and handed the phone back to him. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Vladislav Konnikov, you have so much explaining to do. You lied to me. How long has she been there? When is she leaving? Have you even tried to talk to her?”
“Mama, slow down.”
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