“What the fuck, man? Why didn’t he kiss her?”
Wednesday afternoon, Vlad realized he’d made a horrible mistake. He and the guys were gathered at Colton’s palatial estate outside Nashville to work on his book, and it was clear they were taking it very, very seriously. Colton had set up a classroom-size whiteboard in the middle of his living room, and Yan arrived with a backpack full of how-to-write books.
“I’ve been studying,” Yan said, turning his backpack upside down to let his entire library fall out. “This shit is great. They have all these books to teach you how to write a novel. Have you read any of these?”
In his mind, Vlad rose from the couch and sucker punched Yan. In reality, he simply smiled like every writer who has had to deal with tips of nonwriters. “Yes, I have many of those books.”
That wasn’t the only thing bothering him, though. Elena had been distant ever since she hugged him yesterday. He’d been so surprised that all he could do at first was stand rigidly in place, breath locked in his lungs. But then he’d found his voice, and she leaned into him, and it took all his willpower not to drop his crutches and wrap both of his arms clear around her. Instead, he’d turned his face into her hair and inhaled deeply.
And it had been weird since then. She’d thrown herself into party planning, almost as if she was using it as an excuse to avoid long stretches of time with him. Part of him realized it was maybe for the best that they spend as little time together as possible. The other part of him already missed her and wanted to sniff her hair again.
He’d been looking forward to this little book-plotting session with the guys for that very reason. Until now.
“It’s not the right time for him to kiss her,” Vlad finally said, answering Colton’s question.
“Uh, it’s always the right time for kissing,” Colton snorted.
Mack nodded. “It’s true, man. Nothing beats the first-kiss scene.”
Yan clutched his hands to his chest. “Especially if it’s one of those passionate, almost angry kinds of kisses, like they just can’t control themselves kinds of kisses.”
Mack nodded. “Fuck yeah. I love a good spontaneous angry kiss in a book.” He made a little growl noise and shuddered. “Gets me all worked up.”
Del sighed. “I’m sorry, but nothing beats the soft, tender forehead kiss. It’s like, the real feelings are coming out then. Gets you right here, every time.” He pressed his hand to his breastbone.
“Okay, but what about the almost-kiss,” Gavin said. “I love an almost-kiss.”
Noah got a dreamy look on his face. “The staring-at-the-lips thing? Damn. Sexy as hell. Tony should have at least stared at her lips or something.”
“He needs to, like, notice her,” Yan said.
Mack cupped his own face. “The curve of her jaw.”
“Or the way her hair always slips free and falls across her forehead,” Gavin said.
Del sighed. “I mean, is it even a romance novel if she doesn’t chew on her bottom lip when she’s concentrating?”
Mack shook his head. “Damn, I love that shit.”
Malcolm nodded with wisdom. “It’s one of the best parts of romance novels. The celebration of all those small, important moments of awareness, of noticing someone for the first time, of feeling alive when they’re near you. Of wondering when they became so important to you. It’s romantic as fuck, man.”
Vlad realized they expected him to say something. “They can’t just kiss for the sake of kissing,” Vlad argued. “And nothing ruins a first-kiss scene like when you can tell that the author just put it there for the sake of having a kissing scene. It has to feel natural.”
“But they obviously want to kiss,” Del pointed out.
“Yes, but they can’t give in to the longing yet.”
“Why not?” Mack asked.
“It would not be true to the characters.”
Colton stuck out his bottom lip. “Are you saying this is going to be a slow burn? I wanted to help write the sex scenes.”
“It has to be a slow burn,” Vlad said. “They have too much history to move too quickly.”
“Too much history, huh?” Noah said. “Interesting.”
Vlad narrowed his eyes. What did that mean?
“Look,” Malcolm said. “All we want to know is what’s going to happen next. You really left us hanging here.”
“But . . . you liked it?”
“It’s brilliant, Russian,” Noah said. He leaned over and riffled Vlad’s hair. “We’re so proud of you.”
“It’s true,” Mack said, lowering to the sit on the floor. He kicked his legs out straight and leaned back on his hands. “You’ve got us hooked, man. Give us some more to read.”
The momentary surge of confidence he’d felt at their praise deflated like a pin in a balloon. He slumped and picked at the edges of the Velcro keeping his bone in place. “If I knew that, I would’ve written it.”
“You don’t have any more written?” Yan asked in a pouty way.
Vlad shrugged with one shoulder.
“How long have you been stuck?” Malcolm asked.
“Couple of years,” Vlad mumbled.
“Couple of years?” Yan’s jaw dropped to nearly to his chest.
“You’ve been staring at it for two years?” Colton asked.
“If you’d ever tried to write a book, you’d understand,” Vlad grumbled. “It’s not easy. I feel like I’ve been writing and rewriting the same few chapters over and over again but can’t figure out how to move forward in the story.”
“According to all these books,” Yan said, gesturing at his super-helpful pile of resource guides, “if you are stuck, it’s not because you can’t figure out what should happen next. It’s because you probably got something wrong in what you’ve already written. So we just need to fix that.”
“Wow,” Vlad deadpanned. “Is that all?”
“Obviously, they need to have sex,” Colton said.
Everyone ignored him.
“I agree in theory with Yan,” Del said, ripping open the bag of gluten-free crackers that Elena had sent along for snack time. “Maybe you can’t figure out how to move forward because you haven’t dug enough into your characters’ backstories.”
Mack and Malcolm looked at each other and spoke in unison. “Backstory is everything.”
Vlad tried not to growl in frustration. He knew backstory was everything. It was one of the central rules of book club. Whatever happened to a character before the first page of the book determined who they were on the first page of the book, and that dictated how they navigated every page afterward. “I already know their backstory,” Vlad grumbled.
“Then why are you struggling?” Malcolm countered.
“I don’t know.”
Del popped a cracker in his mouth and then immediately let it fall out. “That tastes like cardboard. Is this the kind of shit you have to eat all the time?”
“What? No. There are a lot of good gluten-free snacks.”
Del shoved the bag away. “This isn’t one of them.”
“Focus, boys,” Colton said.
“Let’s start with Tony,” Malcolm said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Why didn’t he tell Anna that he was 4F when she first accused him of not doing enough for the war effort?”
“Because he was offended.”
“Sure, but why?” Malcolm asked.
“Because it was a rude assumption to make.”
“True,” Mack said, “but that doesn’t explain why he didn’t just set her straight, tell her that her assumption was wrong.”
Malcolm jumped in. “Maybe he wasn’t offended. Maybe he was scared. In all the books we’ve read, characters fear something at the start of the book, and that fear drives their behavior. Which isn’t all that unlike people in real life, right?”
Gavin nodded like a man who’d seen some shit. “Fear forces us to do stupid things, brother. Make bad decisions, often against our own best interests and against wh-what we really w-want in life.” The reappearance of his stammer told him how much he spoke from experience. Gavin and his wife had been through hell before book club helped them repair their marriage.
“Fear has led every single one of us down very bad paths in our relationships,” Malcolm said.
Mack took over again. “So what is Tony afraid of?”
Vlad blinked. Little pinpricks of creative electricity were coming alive in his body. “Not being good enough.”
Del nodded. “And why does Anna target that fear when she comes into his life?”
The creative electricity illuminated a light bulb. “Because she is everything he wants but thinks he doesn’t deserve.”
Malcolm pointed at the white board. “Write that down, Colton.” He returned his attention to Vlad. “And why would that be?”
Vlad stared at the notebook on his lap. His pen was poised and ready for brilliance.
“Dig deep,” Malcolm said.
Light bulb. Vlad started writing notes. “Being 4F has made him ashamed that he can’t fight like his brothers. Anna . . . she is so brave and talented and—and fearless. He thinks he will not measure up for someone like her. And when she drops the photo, he realizes she is in love with a brave pilot, which just makes him feel worse.”
“Can you go deeper with that?” Del prompted. “Why does her being in love with a pilot directly target his fear?”
“Because the pilot was able to fight, but Tony couldn’t,” Vlad repeated. Shit. Another answer appeared, and he bent over his paper. “He’s afraid that his whole life will be like that. He’ll always be the guy who didn’t fight. The man who wasn’t quite a man.”
“A man who failed when it mattered most?” Yan prompted.
“Yes,” Vlad breathed. He blinked as the story began to slowly take shape in his mind. “He wasn’t there when it mattered.”
“And Anna is a reminder of that,” Malcolm said. “So, of course he’s going to react badly when she calls him out for not being in uniform. It directly targeted his—”
“Sense of self,” Vlad said.
Yan whistled. “Damn. That’s some deep shit. We’re getting somewhere now, boys.”
Colton reached for the bag of crackers. “Hey, speaking of going deep, when will there be some sex in this book?”
Vlad shifted uncomfortably. The fear of his own backstory being discovered had suddenly pulled up a chair and started telling that’s what she said jokes. He’d promised to stop keeping things from the guys, but some secrets did not need to be revealed. “I don’t know,” he finally said.
“How about a kiss?” Noah asked. “Will that at least be in the next chapter?”
“I don’t know,” Vlad repeated, more forcefully now. “They are both too vulnerable.”
“Fair enough,” Malcolm said. “Just remember that fear of vulnerability—physical or emotional—is usually a fear of something else.”
The ToeBeans Café.
Wasn’t that the name of the café that Noah’s fiancée owned? The one with the gluten-free muffins that Vlad liked? Elena was running some errands for the party while Vlad was at Colton’s for some kind of playdate, and when she saw the sign for the café, she turned around and parked across the street.
The café was located in an artsy section of Nashville, where cute shops and restaurants lined the sidewalks. In front of the building, an outdoor dining space held four tables with umbrellas, and most of them were taken when Elena walked up. The line inside was nearly to the door, which jingled when she opened it. The blast of air-conditioning was a welcome relief from the humidity outside. Her Medill sweatshirt was way too heavy for June in Tennessee. She really needed to get some new clothes soon.
Elena took her spot at the end of the line and practiced what she might say when or if she actually met Alexis at the counter. This sort of thing did not come naturally to her. As a journalist, she could fake it. As a person, not so much.
She didn’t have to practice long, though, because someone suddenly gasped. “Elena?”
Elena turned to the left. A woman she recognized from Mack’s wedding was quickly approaching. She wore an apron with the café’s logo on it and had her curly hair piled high on her head in a messy bun. A colorful, bohemian scarf was tied around it, the long ends flowing down her back.
“Alexis?” Elena asked tentatively.
The woman beamed with a wide smile. “Oh my gosh, it is you!” Before Elena could say more than a quick hello, Alexis threw her arms around Elena’s neck in a tight, quick embrace.
“I can’t believe you recognized me,” Elena admitted. After all, they hadn’t actually been introduced at the wedding.
“A face like yours is hard to forget,” Alexis said, pulling back.
Was it a good thing that she had a face that wasn’t easy to forget? Alexis seemed too nice for it to mean something bad.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Alexis said. “What brings you by?”
“I was out getting some things for the party this weekend—”
Alexis let out a little squeal and gripped Elena’s elbows. “We are all so excited about the party.”
“—and I drove past the restaurant and recognized the sign. I thought I would come in and say thank you for the pastries you gave us and maybe pick up some more.”
“Oh my gosh, you are so welcome.” Alexis tugged on her elbow. “Come on. Friends don’t wait in line.”
Elena followed, the word friend an unfamiliar wiggly thing burrowing in her chest. She didn’t have friends. Vlad had been her only true friend, and well . . . things were different now between them. Even if it had felt for a moment like old times during breakfast yesterday, her reaction to the simple act of hugging him afterward had been a quick reminder of how much the old days had changed.
Alexis led her to a table by the window. “Have a seat. Can I bring you something to drink?”
“Oh no. You’re so busy. I don’t want to take up your time.”
“My staff has it under control. Do you like lattes? Tea? Something stronger?”
“I’ll take whatever your favorite is.”
Alexis grinned. “Honey soy latte, coming right up.”
She returned a few minutes later with her drink, a bakery bag bursting at the seams, and a plate of various pastries. Alexis sat down after setting it all on the table. “On the house,” she said, grinning still.
“Oh, I cannot let you do that,” Elena protested.
“Already done. I put some cookies in the bag for Vlad to taste along with some more muffins.”
“Vlad will be so happy. Thank you.”
“He’s my official taste tester for gluten-free products.”
Elena sipped her latte. The sweet flavor was light and airy on her tongue. “This is very good. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Alexis leaned forward then with a sympathetic wince. “How is Vlad?”
Elena was getting used to this question but still stumbled over her answer. “Good. I mean, he’s upset about missing the Stanley Cup, of course. But he’s not in any pain.”
“The party will be good for him,” Alexis said. “Noah and the guys have been so worried about him for the past few months.”
That was the second time someone had mentioned Vlad being in a bad way in recent months. She thought Claud was just being mean when she mentioned it, but Alexis didn’t seem like the type to say things out of spite.
“What do you mean?” Elena asked, bracing for the answer.
Alexis’s eyes pinched at the corners. “He sort of dropped off the face of the Earth after the wedding. After . . . well, you know.”
Elena swallowed against a sudden bitterness. Alexis immediately reached over and rested her hand on Elena’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s okay. What do you mean that he dropped off the face of the Earth?”
“He really withdrew from the guys. Stopped hanging out. Stopped answering calls and texts. Eventually, only Colton could ever get ahold of him.”
Elena thought she was the only one he’d stopped communicating with. And at least that would make sense. “Why would he do that? He is so close to the guys.”
“I don’t know,” Alexis said, squeezing Elena’s arm. “I just know that Noah and the guys are really happy to see him smiling again.”
Elena sipped her latte and hoped the warm drink would loosen the constriction in her chest.
“Anyway,” Alexis said in that tone of voice people used when eager to change the subject. “I cannot tell you how excited Liv and I are to taste some of your authentic Russian cuisine on Saturday. Noah is begging me to figure out how to make the pancakes you served yesterday.”
“I can give you my recipe,” Elena smiled. “Oh, actually. You might be able to help me.”
“How’s that?”
“I’m looking for an international market or maybe a specialty shop that might sell tvorog. It’s—”
“Russian farmer’s cheese,” Alexis said. “I’ve had it before.”
“I know I could try to make it myself, but it’s one thing I have never mastered. Do you know of anyplace around here?”
Alexis bit her lip. “Well, maybe.”
“Really? Where? I’ve tried everywhere I can think of.”
Alexis looked around as if making sure no one could hear them. Then she leaned forward. “I don’t know if I should tell you or not.”
“Um, why?”
“Vlad might not like it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Alexis looked around again. Her voice became a conspiratorial whisper. “Ask him about the Cheese Man.”
Vlad was grumpy.
The book club meeting left him eager to write but also annoyed for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint. And even that made him grumpy. Colton drove him home and helped him inside. They both stopped short in the entryway. Something smelled amazing.
Tangy and rich, Vlad knew immediately what it was. Stewed cabbage. Another favorite. With one inhale, he was home. He smelled cold fingers wrapped around a bowl of hot soup. Aching muscles and a clean T-shirt. Howling wind and a crackling fire. His mother’s hug and his father’s laughter. Elena sitting at a table helping him with his math homework after practice.
“Whatever she’s making, I’m eating some,” Colton said, taking off down the hallway.
Vlad bristled. He didn’t want Colton to stay. He wanted a moment alone with his wife before heading upstairs to write. And that thought made him grumpier. He couldn’t think about Elena like that, as his wife. But when he entered the kitchen, he stopped short again at the scene that greeted him. Elena stood at the island with her hair coiled on top of her head, which was bent to study a piece of paper, a pen poised in her hand. Sometimes, her fresh-faced beauty caught him so off guard that he forgot to breathe. Like now.
A sudden memory hit him hard.
“Elena, are you staying for dinner?”
His mother stirred the sautéing bacon and onions. Elena looked up from the counter, where she’d been finishing an essay for her literature class. “No, thank you. My dad promised he’d be home tonight.”
Vlad met his mama’s eyes over Elena’s head. Her father’s promises were as reliable as a Soviet-era nuclear reactor.
Mama kept her tone even. “Why don’t you take some home, just in case?”
Elena returned the empty bowl the next day. Her father had broken his promise. Again.
Vlad cleared his throat. Elena looked up. Her eyes flashed with a welcoming warmth for a moment before withdrawing into cool distance again. It seemed forced, as if she’d reminded herself to do it.
“Hey,” she said. “I made stewed cabbage.”
“I know. It smells incredible.”
“It should be done by now. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Yo,” Colton whistled. “You guys are doing the Russian thing again.”
Elena switched to English as she looked at Colton. “Are you hungry?”
“Hell yes.”
“How come you never eat at home?” Vlad grumbled, crutching to a seat at the island.
“Because I don’t have an Elena.”
Neither did Vlad. Not for long, at least. And suddenly grumpy became downright cross.
“Will you fix a plate for Vlad?” Elena asked Colton. “I’m trying to finish this grocery list for the party.”
“Didn’t you buy out the entire store last time?” Colton joked from the stove. He raised the plate to his face. “Goddamn, this smells good.”
He carried it to Vlad and set it down. “You need a bib, little butt?”
Vlad muttered a Russian curse word. Elena looked up sharply. “Vlad, be nice.”
After Colton filled his own plate and sat down, Elena capped her pen and faced them with her hands on her hips.
“Vlad.”
He looked up from his plate. “What?”
“I really, really need some tvorog.”
“Um, okay. Maybe we can find a store.”
“Vlad.”
He gulped. “What?”
“Tell me about the Cheese Man.”
Vlad went cold, and he dropped his fork. “Where did you hear that name?”
“What is it? Is it a store?”
Vlad shook his head. “No. It’s nothing. Forget you ever heard that name.”
“What name? Cheese Man?”
Colton set down his fork. “Come on, man. What’s the harm?”
“You know the harm, Colton! It is a dark path. I cannot drag her down it. I will not.”
“I’m sorry,” Elena said, looking back and forth between them. “What dark path?”
Vlad and Colton locked gazes again for a moment before turning to look at her. “The path to the best cheese you’ll ever eat in your life,” Colton breathed.
“No. To an addiction you will never break,” Vlad warned. “The price is too high.”
Elena waved her hands in front of her chest. “Wait. I don’t understand. What are we talking about? Who exactly is the Cheese Man?”
“No one really knows,” Colton said. “He appeared last year. People started whispering about him. Have you tried the Cheese Man yet? Have you heard about the Cheese Man? We have a lot of connections, you know, and so I started asking around, and someone finally hooked us up.”
Elena crossed her arms. “Does he have store, or something?”
“God, no,” Colton said. “He basically runs a speakeasy. Like, like a speak cheesy.”
Laughter barked from her chest. Elena pressed a hand to her mouth to smother the sound, but it was no use. She sucked in a breath and bent over as if she hadn’t laughed in a year. The sound was so pure, so beautiful, that Vlad got lost in it for a moment. But only a moment, because the reality was ugly. “Cheese Man is no laughing matter, Elena. Once you start, you can’t stop. He will own you for life.”
Elena wiped her eyes and stood up. “Sorry. I just . . . this is absurd.”
“To get in, you have to show this,” Colton said, digging his membership coin from his wallet.
“This is a joke, yes?”
Vlad glowered at Colton. “Put that away. And no, Cheese Man is not a joke, Elena.”
“But will he have tvorog?”
“He has everything,” Colton said. “And if he doesn’t have it, he’ll know how to get it.”
Elena nodded. “Great. When can we go?”
“No,” Vlad said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Tomorrow?” Colton said.
Elena nodded. “Tomorrow.”
Vlad swore in Russian again.
Colton grinned. “Prepare to be amazed.”