Isn't It Bromantic (Bromance Book Club #4) by Lyssa Kay Adams

            “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.