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

            Michelle gave her a sympathetic look. “You gotta give yourself a break. Nothing about your marriage has been normal. Neither one of you has made wise decisions. He is as much to blame for things as you are.”

            Elena returned to the mirror and tried to see herself, see things, in a new way. She smoothed her hands down the fitted curves, tried to imagine his reaction, tried to imagine him taking it off her. A tug low in her gut made her sweat. “You’re absolutely sure about this dress?”

            Michelle nodded. “Yes, and now we need shoes.”

            “High ones,” Andrea said.

            Claud smirked. “Fuck-me pumps.”

            Dear God.

            An hour later, Elena had enough borrowed clothes for a month of outfits, but her Medill sweatshirt was mysteriously missing. She changed into a pair of white jeans Michelle loaned her—she had to roll up the legs because Michelle had a good three inches on her—and a sleeveless black T-shirt that was slightly too tight in the chest, because Elena had a couple of inches on Michelle in that area. She returned to the kitchen, where the Loners waited for her with fresh coffee.

            “Look at you,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “Look what you’ve been hiding beneath that sweatshirt.”

            “Speaking of which, I can’t find it.”

            Michelle whistled and looked away.

            “Time to make a plan,” Claud said.

            “A plan for what?”

            Claud eyed her like a teenager trying to explain TikTok to her. “For getting your man back.”

            Elena looked at the floor. “I never really had him.”

            “Yes, you did. He’s always been yours. You’re just two very stubborn people.”

            There was a knock at the front door. Michelle got a quizzical look on her face. “I have no idea who that could be. It’s too early for the girls to be back.”

            She excused herself, and Elena held her breath as momentary panic imagined Michelle opening the door to find Vlad there to ask her out finally. She hid in the kitchen and ignored the quiet murmur of voices.

            The door closed, and a moment later, Michelle reappeared. Her grin was as wide as her face, and she carried an envelope the size of a greeting card. She held it out to Elena. “This just arrived for you.”

            “For me? From who?” Elena took the card from Michelle’s fingers just as Michelle answered her question.

            “Seeing how it’s written in Russian, I have a pretty good idea.”


Елена



            Her name was scribbled on the front of the envelope in Vlad’s unmistakable script.

            Elena’s hand fluttered to her lips. “But he doesn’t know I’m here.”

            “Well, he actually probably does by now,” Andrea said. “I sort of told Colton.” She did a little giggle and dance then. “I can’t believe I have Colton Wheeler’s cell number.”

            “Well, are you going to open it or not?” Claud demanded.

            “Maybe she wants some privacy,” Linda suggested.

            The pounding of her pulse in her ears drowned out their voices as Elena slid a finger beneath the seal of the envelope. It flipped open with a simple tug, and her fingers shook as she pulled out a card with a spray of Russian sage on the front. She’d carried a bundle of it at their wedding.

            Inside, in his masculine scrawl, was a poem she knew well.

            “Well?” Claud demanded.

            Elena could only whisper. “ ‘I still recall the wondrous moment when you appeared before my sight . . .’ ”

            “What the hell does that mean?” Claud asked.

            Elena looked up from the paper to find her unexpectedly new friends watching her closely and waiting for an explanation. “It’s a poem.”

            “Awww.” Andrea clutched her hands to her chest. “He wrote you a poem?”