Book 2 Cross Checking 1
“Your grandfather is the most infuriating patient I’ve ever encountered,” Natasha declared, dropping into a chair beside Emma. “And I once treated a man who insisted his appendicitis was caused by aliens.”
Emma smiled, adjusting the name tag on her blazer. The atrium of Boston Children’s Hospital hummed with activity as volunteers set up for the Boston Blades‘ annual charity carnival. Players would arrive soon to sign autographs, take photos, and play games with young patients–a tradition Emma had expanded significantly
since taking ownership.
“Franklin doesn’t like being told what to do,” Emma agreed, checking items off her clipboard, “Especially by
someone he sees as a child.”
“I’m twenty–eight!”
“To him, anyone under fifty is practically a toddler.” Emma glanced at her watch. “Speaking of Franklin, should you be here? I thought you were reviewing his medication schedule today.”
“Walter’s watching him,” Natasha waved dismissively. “And I needed a break from his stubbornness. Besides, 1 wanted to see this famous charity event Alek keeps bragging about.”
Emma’s gaze softened as she watched children in hospital gowns being wheeled into the atrium, their faces lighting up at the decorations. “It’s my favorite day of the season.”
Natasha studied her thoughtfully. “You’re different here. More…”
“Confident?” Emma suggested.
“Yourself,” Natasha corrected. “Less guarded.”
Before Emma could respond, a commotion at the entrance signaled the team’s arrival. Players in Boston Blades jerseys streamed in, Alek at the front in a perfectly tailored suit. His eyes found Emma immediately, his professional mask slipping just enough to reveal a genuine smile.
“Definitely still in love with you,” Natasha murmured. “He gets that dopey look,”
“Hush,” Emma nudged her, though the observation warmed something that had been cold for weeks.
Alek approached, greeting Natasha with a quick hug before turning to Emma. “Everything looks incredible. The PR team said registration numbers are thirty percent higher than last year.”
“The children’s art auction is already exceeding expectations too,” Emma replied, relieved to be on safe, professional ground. “Have the players been briefed?”
“Complete orientation on interaction protocols,” Alek confirmed. “Coach has them on their best behavior.”
Their comfortable professional rhythm had survived even as their personal connection strained–a fact that both reassured and saddened Emma. They could still function perfectly as business partners while struggling to reconnect as husband and wife.
“I need to check on the silent auction,” Emma said, gathering her clipboard. “The players should start at their assigned stations in about fifteen minutes. Added to the library
Alek nodded. “I’ll do a final walkthrough with security.”
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* Fot
As they turned in opposite directions, Natasha rolled her eyes. “Wow. You two have professional distance down to an art form.”
“It’s a public event,” Emma reminded her.
“Uh–huh.” Natasha looked thoroughly unconvinced. “Heaven forbid anyone suspect you might actually like each other.”
Emma ignored the commentary, focusing instead on final preparations. The event kicked off smoothly, with players manning game stations while children moved between activities collecting prizes. The hospital corridor buzzed with laughter and excitement–exactly the atmosphere Emma had envisioned when expanding the program.
“Ms. Mitchell–Volkov?” A volunteer approached. “The team psychologist has arrived and is asking where to
set up.”
Emma frowned. “Team psychologist? We don’t have-”
“Actually, we do now, came a voice behind her.
Emma turned to find a striking woman in her mid–thirties, sleek dark hair pulled into a professional bun,
designer dress subtly displaying an athletic figure. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar.
“I’m Dr. Elise Crawford,” the woman extended her hand. “Recently contracted with the Blades. I believe your
husband would have mentioned it.”
Emma accepted the handshake automatically, mind racing. “I’m afraid he didn’t.”
“Oh.” Elise’s perfectly groomed eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s surprising, given our history.”
“Your history?” Emma kept her voice neutral despite sudden unease.
“Alek and I were engaged. Years ago, of course.” Elise’s smile held no warmth. “Before his knee injury ended his playing career. Ancient history now.”
The ground seemed to shift beneath Emma’s feet. Alek had mentioned previous relationships, of course, but never an engagement. And certainly never that this woman had been hired by the team.
“I see,” Emma managed. “Well, welcome to the organization. The volunteer can show you to your station.”
As soon as Elise moved away, Emma scanned the room for Alek. She spotted him across the atrium, deep in
conversation with the coach.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Natasha appeared at her elbow. “What’s-” She followed Emma’s gaze to Elise, then stiffened. “Is that who I think it is?”
“You know her?” Emma asked.
“Unfortunately.” Natasha’s usual good humor vanished. “Elise Crawford. She broke my brother’s heart right after his career ended. Claimed she couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t going to be a star athlete”
“And now she works for us,” Emma said, disbelief coloring her voice. “Without anyone thinking I should know
about it.”
“Alek didn’t tell you?” Natasha looked genuinely surprised. “That’s… uncharacteristic.”
Emma watched as Elise approached Alek across the room. His posture changed immediately–shoulders stiffening, jaw tightening. Not the reaction of someone comfortable with a new colleague.
< Book 2 Cross Checking 1
- Ports >
“I need to focus on the event,” Emma said, professionalism overriding personal shock. “We can deal with…
this… later.”
For the next two hours, Emma threw herself into her responsibilities, moving between stations, talking with children and parents, coordinating with hospital staff. All while acutely aware of Elise’s presence, of the occasional moments she and Alek interacted with strained politeness.
When the event finally wound down, Emma found herself cornered by Dr. Klein, the team physician, who was
unabashedly enthusiastic about the new hire.
“Crawford’s integration of psychological and physical recovery techniques is revolutionary,” he gushed. “Her research on trauma recovery for injured players has been published in every major sports medicine journal.”
“How was the hiring decision made?” Emma asked carefully.
“The performance committee approved it last month,” Dr. Klein explained. “Volkov was actually the holdout, if you can believe it. Said something about conflicts of interest.”
Before Emma could probe further, a small commotion erupted near the entrance. A child had knocked over a display in excitement, sending decorations cascading. She excused herself to help with cleanup, compartmentalizing her growing anger behind a professional smile.
By the time the last attendees departed and volunteers began breaking down stations, Emma’s patience had evaporated. She found Alek in a quiet corridor, reviewing event metrics on his tablet.
“We need to talk,” she said without preamble. “About Dr. Crawford.”
Alek’s expression shuttered immediately. “I was going to tell you.”
“When? Before or after everyone else knew that you’d hired your ex–fiancée?”
“I didn’t hire her,” Alek countered. “The committee did. I actually voted against it.”
“Yet somehow you neglected to mention any of this to me,” Emma pressed. “Including the small detail that you were once engaged to her.”
Alek glanced around, aware of staff still within earshot. “Can we discuss this at home?”
“No, we can discuss it now,” Emma insisted, keeping her voice low but firm. “You’ve been lecturing me about open communication for weeks while keeping this secret?“.
“It wasn’t relevant,” Alek said stiffly. “Elise and I were over years before I met you.”
“Her hiring was relevant,” Emma shot back. “Especially given that I’m supposedly your business partner as
well as your wife.”
Alek’s jaw tightened. “You’ve been preoccupied with your grandfather’s health. I didn’t want to add to your stress with something I was handling.”
“Handling?” Emma repeated incredulously. “Is that what you call this? Because Dr. Klein just told me you were the lone holdout on the committee.”
“Because I knew it would create exactly this situation!”
“No, this situation was created by your lack of transparency,” Emma corrected. “If you’d told me from the beginning, I would have been prepared. Instead, I was blindsided at our own charity event.”
Alek ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I made a judgment call.”
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“A wrong one,” Emma said coldly. “And it makes me wonder what other judgment calls you’ve made without consulting me. Both professionally and personally.”
The implications hung between them–their ongoing disagreement about fertility treatments, Alek’s reluctance to try for another natural pregnancy, his tendency to make protective decisions on her behalf.
“That’s not fair,” Alek said quietly. “This has nothing to do with our personal decisions.”
“Doesn’t it?” Emma challenged. “It’s the same pattern, Alek. You deciding what I can handle, what I should know, what’s best for me–without actually asking me.”
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