Elena awoke the next morning to the sound of a mournful meow.
After blinking in confusion for a second, she sat up and kicked off the blankets. She found a cat draped across the floor in front of Vlad’s bedroom, poking its paws through the tiny space between the closed door and the carpet.
“Sorry, kitty. He’s not home.”
The cat rolled over when Elena spoke.
“Come on,” she said. “I will feed you.”
The longhaired calico followed her all the way downstairs and into the kitchen. She must have known where Vlad kept the food and treats, because she began to meow at the pantry door. Elena picked her up and checked the collar for a name tag. There wasn’t one.
“Guess we’ll have to settle for Neighbor Cat for now,” she said, setting her down.
Neighbor Cat didn’t seem to care what she was called once Elena poured a small bowl of food.
According to the clock on the microwave, it was nearly nine—much later than Elena normally slept. She decided to blame it on the fact that it had taken hours to fall asleep last night and not on the fact that the bed was more comfortable than she remembered. It was unbelievably soft, like sleeping on top of a giant down pillow. She hadn’t been in the right state of mind during the few months she had lived with Vlad to appreciate it then, but now? Now it would be hell going back to the concrete block that was her futon. But it was well past time to figure out how and when she was going back. She hadn’t booked a plane ticket yet and didn’t even know if she could get a flight out today. If she couldn’t, she’d stay in a hotel by the airport. Vlad clearly didn’t want her at the house when he came home, and she wasn’t going to take advantage of his generosity by asking if she could. She didn’t even feel comfortable raiding his fridge for breakfast or making tea. This was his house, his space. She was a visitor and always had been.
Elena sat down in one of the tall leather chairs that lined the long island in the center of the kitchen. She’d left her laptop on the counter before bed last night and now booted it up to search online for a flight. When the travel website prompted her to select a return date, she checked the button for one-way and sucked in a shuddering breath as it hit her that this was the last time she would ever be here. When she left this morning, she would never be coming back. And though she’d known for months that she would eventually face these lasts—last time in the house, last time seeing Vlad—the reality of it soured her stomach. There were things she still hadn’t said to him, things she wished he knew and understood. But maybe that was just as selfish as her decision to marry him. He obviously was ready to move on. She had no right to burden him further with her excuses.
She chose a flight for late that night from Nashville to O’Hare. Then, because she didn’t trust herself not to start crying, she busied herself with getting ready to go. She showered quickly and, after dressing, left her wet towel in the laundry room on the second floor. She repacked her few belongings quickly and then walked back into his bedroom to get some clothes for him to drop off at the hospital on the way to the airport. Searching through his drawers felt like an invasion of his privacy, so she simply grabbed the first things she saw—a sweatshirt, a pair of shorts, and some boxer briefs. Next, she grabbed a toothbrush and some toothpaste from the bathroom. In his closet, she found an empty drawstring backpack to put them in.
The orderly line of clothes hanging on one side of the walk-in closet made her pause for a moment. The neatness of it all, the tidiness, brought a pang of homesickness she had no right to feel. This wasn’t her home. But the sight of his suit coats, some still in the plastic bags from the dry cleaner, felt intimate. She ran her fingers down the sleeve of one, a dark navy that probably looked amazing against his olive-toned skin. She’d seen pictures of him walking into arenas before games, dressed in one of these suits with dark sunglasses shading his expression from the cameras. Sometimes, she’d watch his games and marvel, That’s my husband, but he never really was.
And now it was time to say goodbye.
Neighbor Cat was asleep at the bottom of the stairs. Elena crouched and gave her a scratch. “Take care of him, okay?”
Her heart wanted to linger, to look around a little longer. Her brain told her to go. She drove one of his cars—a spacious SUV—and would leave it at the hospital so someone could drive him home in it. She’d just call an Uber to take her to the airport from there.
The security guard didn’t question her this time, but she felt like a zoo animal on display when she exited the elevator on the fourth floor, dragging her suitcase behind her. A small circle of people wearing tracksuits bearing the team’s logo stood next to the nurses’ station, consulting with an official-looking man in a sport coat and a tie. They turned as one and stared at her with unmasked curiosity. Madison was among them, so Elena waved like they were old pals.
“Tell him I’ll be in in a few minutes to go over the rehab plan,” Madison said.
Elena nodded but didn’t stop. Their eyes followed her every step down the hallway toward his room and when she paused at his closed door. Did she need to knock? With the eyes of the staff burning a hole in her back, she quickly rapped her knuckles on the door and opened it before he could respond. She braced herself for whatever he might say, but she found him staring listlessly at the TV on the wall, the remote in his non-IV hand.
He turned it off when he saw her. “Hi,” he said, pressing his hand to the mattress to straighten against his pillows, gingerly, though, so as to not disturb his injured leg in the harness.
He was slightly more covered today. The hospital gown now hid his chest, but tufts of dark hair still poked through the top. And rather than detracting from the muscular appeal of his body, the thin, diamond-printed gown accentuated it. His biceps looked like they’d rip the fabric if he flexed. Vlad wasn’t the flexing kind of guy, though. His body was a machine with one purpose—hockey. And he was as oblivious to his stunning physique as he was to the way his smile could make a person want to lean into him to absorb some of his warmth. He’d never understood how handsome he was, how attractive women found him. Elena had always felt lucky to know that his sexiest quality was his kindness.
Elena left her suitcase by the door and averted her eyes from his exposed skin as she walked to the side of his bed. “I wanted to bring you some things before I left,” she said in Russian. “Clothes and a toothbrush.”
“Thank you.”
She set the bag on the table next to his bed. “The keys to your car are in there too. I hope you don’t mind that I drove it here. I just thought someone could drive you home in it.”
He thanked her again, studying her face in a way that heated her blood and scrambled her brain.
She bit her lip. “Did you sleep okay last night?”
The purplish smudges beneath his eyes said he hadn’t, but Vlad nodded. “Yes. You?”
“Good.”
“You found everything you needed in the house?”
“Yes.” Elena shoved her hands in her back pockets, desperate for something to cover the awkwardness. It didn’t used to be like this between them—useless small talk bracketed by heavy silences. But the man who’d once been her best friend was now like a stranger. Still, awkward was a lot better than the subtle aggression he’d shown toward her yesterday. “I met your friends.”
“Which friends?”
“The Loners.” She toed the floor with her sneaker. “They were at your house when I got there yesterday. I don’t think the old one likes me very much.”
Vlad dragged a beleaguered hand over his hair and spoke on a sigh. “What did Claud say?”
“I don’t remember exactly, but it was something like, ‘You’re a heartless bitch who should be hit by a train.’ ”
Vlad’s eyebrows pulled together as his expression darkened. “She said that?”
“Maybe not those exact words, but that was clearly the meaning.” She shrugged and adopted what she hoped was a self-deprecating smile. “Hey, if I were dead, then you’d be a real member of their club, at least.”
Her attempt at humor missed its mark. “Elena, don’t ever say anything like that again.”
She squirmed again under his examination. She self-consciously scratched a nonexistent itch on her face as she thought of something to say.
“You’re not wearing your ring.”
She shoved her hand back into her pocket.
“You had it on yesterday.” His voice had dropped an octave.
“I saw yours on your dresser. I figured since you weren’t wearing yours . . .” She shrugged. “I left mine next to it.”
“I only take mine off for games, Elena. I’ve been wearing it.”
“Oh.” Her heart hammered a confusing beat. Why was he telling her that?
A brisk knock on the door interrupted them. Madison poked her head in. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” Elena said, switching back to English. She turned away from Vlad, hands still in her back pockets, as Madison walked in. Madison greeted Vlad, checked his incision, and then introduced the two other trainers with her—a pair of eager-looking grad assistants who seemed like they couldn’t wait to start torturing him with squat thrusts.
Done with the introductions, Madison smiled and said, “So, I bet you’re ready to get out of here.”
“Very much,” Vlad answered.
“Since you’re here, Elena, does that mean you’re staying, or . . . ?”
The empty, sour feeling returned to her stomach. “No, I am going back to Chicago.”
“You can stay.” Vlad said it in Russian, and at first, Elena wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. But when she looked down at him, his expression confirmed it. A pink tinge rose above the dark outline of scruff on his cheeks, giving him a boyish, sheepish look. “If—if you still want to.”
“But you said—”
“I was a jerk yesterday.”
Heart pounding, she glanced at Madison, who was quietly conversing with the two other trainers. Even though none of them could understand her conversation with Vlad, Elena appreciated the attempt at privacy. She stepped closer to his bed. “I don’t understand. You—you want me to stay?”
His response was a single nod.
A warm bloom in her chest began to melt the cold loneliness that had been slowly turning her heart to ice. “I bought a plane ticket for tonight. I don’t know if I can cancel it.”
“Just don’t get on the plane.”
“But the money . . . I always cost you so much money.”
His expression became wounded. “I don’t care about the money, Elena. If you want to go, then go. But I’m asking you to stay. Do you want to or not?”
Just like that day so many years ago when he’d crouched before her with two shiny rings, she hesitated before answering. And just like then, a smile spread across her face, and when she finally found her voice, it was a whisper. “Yes.”
His features relaxed, as if he’d been holding his breath in anticipation of her response. He nodded and swallowed hard. “Okay.”
He looked at Madison and switched back to English. “Elena is staying.”
“Great,” Madison said, grinning in an oddly victorious way, as if she’d known all along this would happen or, at least, had hoped for it. “Shall we go over the rehab plan together?”
Before either of them could answer, Madison whipped out a single sheet of paper from the folder she carried. “This is just a basic outline. It will change as needed, but this is what we’re looking at for the next few months.” Madison handed Vlad the paper. Elena inched closer to his bed to read over his shoulder.
The plan was broken down week by week, but that was almost the only thing Elena understood. Simple instructions like ice and elevation were complicated by clinical terms and acronyms. Six weeks in a brace with full extension. Ice to reduce pain and inflammation. Gait training with crutches, NWB.
She looked up. “What does NWB mean?”
Madison and Vlad answered at the same time. “Non-weight bearing.”
“The next few days, you need to take it easy,” Madison said. “You can obviously get up to use the bathroom, to bathe, and to stretch, but for the most part, you need to stay off your feet and keep the leg elevated above your heart.”
Patella mobility drills. Multi-plane open kinetic chain straight leg raising. Week two, begin proprioception drill emphasizing neuromuscular control.
“Is he supposed to know what any of this means?” Elena asked, not even trying to hide the rising alarm in her voice.
“That’s what we’re for.” Madison smiled.
Vlad absently scratched his jaw, the scrape of his fingertips against his thick whiskers drawing Elena’s attention. Transfixed, she studied the pop of a vein atop his hand that wound all the way up his forearm. As if feeling the weight of her stare, Vlad suddenly looked up. Their eyes collided, and she felt a kick in her chest. The reality of the close quarters they were about to share became its own presence in the air between them.
Elena tore her eyes away to find Madison watching them with a curious, amused glint in her eye.
Elena’s cheeks grew hot. “What about nutrition? Will you put him on a special diet to help him heal, or can I make him anything he wants?”
“Lots of fruits, vegetables, and protein,” Madison said. “And, of course, gluten-free.”
“Why gluten-free?”
“I was diagnosed with a gluten allergy late last year,” Vlad answered quietly in Russian.
“You never told me that.”
“I planned to, but . . .”
But she broke his heart instead.
Madison cleared her throat. “Well, we’re going to leave you alone now so you can get ready to go home. We’ll be in touch tomorrow, but call tonight if you need us, okay?” She spoke with the quick cadence of someone anxious to leave. She all but pushed the two grad students toward the door.
“I have no idea how to cook gluten-free,” Elena said, nibbling her lip. “I’ll have to do some research on how to adapt recipes.”
“I don’t need anything fancy.”
“But I want to make all your favorites from home.”
Vlad shifted against his pillows to sit up straighter. “You’re sure you don’t mind doing this?”
“I’m sure.” She swallowed and hugged her chest. “But can I ask you something?”
He nodded tentatively, as if he feared the question.
“Why did you change your mind?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You were right. It will be nice to not have a stranger in my house.”
It was an ironic answer, since she felt like a stranger around him. But maybe this time together was exactly what they needed to correct that, so that when the time finally came for her to leave, they would part, at last, as friends again. It was the best she could hope for, and more than she deserved, but she wasn’t going to waste this opportunity to start making things right between them.