Book 2 Substitute Player
“You can’t be serious,” Alek followed Emma around their bedroom as she packed an overnight bag. “Moving into your grandfather’s mansion? For how long?”
“As long as he needs me,” Emma replied, folding a sweater. “You saw him yesterday, Alek. He can barely get
up the stairs.”
Three weeks after Franklin’s cardiac episode, his health had deteriorated further. Though he insisted he was fine, his color was poor, his energy non–existent.
“That’s why he has round–the–clock nurses,” Alek argued. “And Walter. He doesn’t need you living there.”
Emma zipped her bag. “He needs family. Someone who loves him, not just employees who care for him.”
“And what about us?” Alek gestured between them. “We’ve barely begun addressing our issues, and now
you’re moving out?”
“I’m not moving out,” Emma corrected, exasperated. “I’m temporarily staying with my grandfather while he
recovers.”
“Same difference.” Alek raked a hand through his hair. “You’re avoiding difficult conversations by diving into
caregiving.”
Emma stiffened. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” Alek’s voice softened. “Every time we start to talk about the baby, about surrogacy versus trying again, about how to move forward–something interrupts. Your work calls. My meetings. Now your grandfather.”
Emma sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly tired. “This isn’t a convenient excuse, Alek. Franklin genuinely
needs me.”
“I know.” Alek sat beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. “But I need you too.”
Emma leaned against his shoulder, a rare moment of connection. “It’s only for a little while. Just until his strength improves.”
“And then what?” Alek asked. “We return to our separate corners? Continue the silent standoff?”
“I don’t know,” Emma admitted. “But I do know I can’t leave him alone right now.”
Alek nodded, resignation clear in his expression. “I’ll drive you over.”
Franklin’s Beacon Hill mansion had always seemed absurdly large for one elderly man. Now, with medical equipment crowding his bedroom and a nurse stationed in the adjacent sitting room, it felt more like a private hospital than a home.
“This is completely unnecessary,” Franklin grumbled as Emma unpacked in her childhood bedroom. “I’m perfectly capable of managing on my own.”
“Of course you are,” Emma agreed, humoring him. “I’m just here for the company.”
Franklin harrumphed, but his eyes betrayed his pleasure at having her there. “Where’s that oversized husband of yours? Too busy to visit an old man?”
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< Book 2 Substitute Player
“He’s coming for dinner,” Emma replied. “Team responsibilities this afternoon.”
+8 Points >
The truth was more complicated. Alek had been coldly polite when dropping her off, clearly unhappy with the arrangement but unwilling to argue further. Another fracture in their increasingly fragile relationship.
“You two fighting?” Franklin asked, ever perceptive.
“Not fighting. Just…” Emma searched for the right word. “Disconnected.”
Franklin nodded sagely. “Marriage is like skating on freshly resurfaced ice. Smooth at first, then ruts develop
if you keep traveling the same path.”
“Poetic, Grandpa.” Emma smiled despite herself. “Any advice for filling the ruts?”
“Change the path.” Franklin adjusted his position against the pillows. “Now, tell me what’s really bothering
Aleksander. And don’t say ‘nothing‘ because that boy looks like he’s carrying the weight of Boston on his
shoulders.”
Emma perched on the edge of his bed. “We’re struggling to agree on next steps. After losing the baby.”
“Ah.” Franklin patted her hand. “He wants surrogacy, you want to try again naturally.”
Emma stared at him, surprised. “How did you know?”
“Because I know you both,” Franklin said simply. “You’ve never backed down from a challenge in your life. And
he’s never met a risk he couldn’t calculate to minimize.”
“We just can’t seem to hear each other,” Emma admitted. “He’s so afraid of losing me that he can’t consider
what I need.”
“And you’re so determined to prove your body isn’t broken that you won’t acknowledge his fear.” Franklin’s
directness was both irritating and refreshing. “You’re both right, and you’re both wrong.”
Emma’s phone buzzed with a text from Alek: Flight from LAX just landed. Be there in about an hour.
“What flight?” Emma murmured, confused.
Franklin chuckled. “That would be his surprise. I might have suggested it.”
“Suggested what? Alek was just here this morning.”
“Not Alek’s flight.” Franklin’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I called in reinforcements.”
Before Emma could press for details, Walter appeared at the doorway. “Ms. Mitchell, there’s a delivery
downstairs requiring your signature.”
Puzzled, Emma headed to the main floor. Instead of a package, she found a petite woman with Alek’s blue eyes and a riot of blonde curls standing in the foyer, surrounded by luggage.
“You must be Emma,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m Natasha Volkov. Your interfering grandfather
called me.”
“Natasha?” Emma repeated, stunned. “Alek’s sister? From California?”
“The very same.” Natasha’s smile was warm. “Franklin said you could use family support. On the Volkov side,
I mean.”
Emma shot a disbelieving look up the staircase, where she could imagine her grandfather looking entirely too pleased with himself.
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“I can’t believe you flew across the country-”
“Medical residents don’t get many breaks,” Natasha interrupted. “When we do, family emergencies take
priority.”
“But there’s no emergency-”
+8 Points
“Grandpa had a heart episode, you had surgery, and my brother is apparently being his typical overprotective
self.” Natasha counted on her fingers. “That’s three emergencies by Russian standards.”
Despite everything, Emma found herself smiling at Natasha’s matter–of–fact assessment. She remembered
meeting Alek’s sister at their wedding–brilliant, outspoken, with the same directness as her brother but none
of his caution.
“How long can you stay?” Emma asked, helping with the bags.
“Two weeks. I switched rotations with another resident.” Natasha followed Emma upstairs. “Where’s Alek?”
“He’ll be here for dinner.” Emma showed her to a guest room. “He doesn’t know you’re coming.”
Natasha laughed. “Perfect. I love surprising him. He makes that fish–mouth expression when he’s caught off
guard.”
Emma recognized the description immediately–the same face Alek had made when she’d first told him about the pregnancy, a mixture of shock and joy. The memory sent a pang through her chest.
“There it is,” Natasha said softly. “The look Alek described.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re carrying something heavy but won’t let anyone help.” Natasha sat on the edge of the guest bed.
“He’s worried about you.”
“I know.” Emma sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “But his worry is suffocating.”
“That’s Alek.” Natasha kicked off her shoes, making herself at home. “When our parents died, he was nineteen and I was twelve. He dropped everything–his education, his promising hockey career in Russia–to move us to America where he’d been recruited. For years, he scheduled his entire life around my needs.”
“I didn’t realize,” Emma said. “He doesn’t talk much about that time.”
“It was hard for him,” Natasha acknowledged. “He played the role of brother, father, and mother all at once. His overprotectiveness comes from love, even when it’s maddening.”
“It still doesn’t give him the right to make decisions about my body,” Emma pointed out.
Natasha raised her hands in surrender. “Absolutely not. I’m just providing context, not excuses.”
Before their conversation could continue, Walter appeared again. “Ms. Mitchell, Mr. Volkov has arrived. He’s
in the kitchen.”
Emma and Natasha exchanged glances, sharing a moment of conspirators‘ excitement before heading downstairs.
Alek stood with his back to the door, arranging takeout containers on the counter. When he turned, his expression shifted from neutral to stunned in an instant.
“Natasha?” The container in his hands nearly tumbled to the floor. “What are you doing here?”
Book 2 Substitute Player
“Surprise!” Natasha launched herself into her brother’s arms. Grandpa Mitchell called me
“Franklin did?” Alek’s bewildered gaze found Emma over his sister’s head. “Did you know about this?”
“Not until about ten minutes ago, Emma assured him.
Alek set his sister down, studying her face. “Your residency-
“Is covered. I’m here for two weeks.” Natasha poked him in the chest. “And you can stop giving me that big–brother worried look. I’m twenty–eight, not twelve anymore.”
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