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CHAPTER 10

EMERY

I cannot believe this is happening.

My parents are excited to see Inessa when she isn’t asleep, and I…

We’ve just pulled into Alexei’s driveway, behind a G-Wagon and beside a little red sedan, and I haven’t screamed at the top of my lungs that I cannot do this, they cannot leave me with him, because as much as I know he’s Forrest’s best friend and he does desperately need help over the next few weeks, it cannot be me who does it.

Except now I’m getting out of the car and following my mother up the walk.

Emery Granger, I thought you had more of a backbone than this.

But each time I open my mouth, I feel Inessa’s arms tighten around my neck. She’s so little, and a lot of strangers are about to storm into her life. I know I’m a stranger, too, but at the very least I know what it’s like to have a hockey player for a dad, to have that constant coming and going chaos.

And when Alexei answers the door, he looks terrible.

I’m reminded like a gut punch that on top of the hockey lifestyle chaos, there’s also the family emergency chaos.

Tired and tense, his hair is standing on end and he has dark circles under his normally seductive eyes.

“Come in,” he says, his voice tight. He gestures for my parents to step inside as he locks his intense, bullish gaze on my face. “I’m sorry, I have a nanny here for an interview.”

My eyebrows jolt up. Already? That was fast. Eleven hours ago, he seemed flummoxed at where to even start with that. I would have thought it would take a few days to find a qualified, experienced childcare provider, even if money is no object.

“We won’t stay long,” my mom says. “But how’s your mom?”

He nods. “She’s better. They will do a procedure soon. We went to the hospital this morning. I got to her for a minute while Inessa had a second breakfast with my father in the cafeteria.” He exhales in visible frustration. “He refuses to leave the hospital.”

My mom makes sympathetic noises. “You know what? I bet there is someone who lives really close to the hospital who is a fan of the team. And someone from the team’s foundation would know who to ask. No, don’t say that you couldn’t accept that kind of charity. It would make a fan very happy, so I’m not going to let you deny them that joy. Do you want help asking for that?”

Surprise ripples across Alexei’s face, and I stifle a smile. It’s fun to see him at a loss for words, and it’s very fun when it’s someone other than me being bullied in a loving way by my mom. Finally, he nods. “I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You have a lot on your mind now. I’ll make some calls for you.” She glances past him. “And where’s our sweet little girl?”

Inessa comes running, only to turn shy and hide behind her dad’s leg. Her hair is wild, only barely contained in a single, sideways ponytail, and her t-shirt is big enough it could be a little dress. Totally different than the neat outfit Maria had her in last night.

It makes me think that her grandma is the one who usually dresses her and brushes her hair.

I wave as I set my backpack down just inside the front door.

“Hello, princess,” my father says, crouching down. “Do you remember us?”

Inessa peeks out from behind Alexei’s leg but doesn’t move.

“We’re your Uncle Forrest’s parents,” Mom adds. “We saw you last night, but you were pretty sleepy.”

“Not sleepy,” Inessa says crossly.

Alexei runs a hand through his hair, and the stress lines around his mouth deepen. “It’s been a long morning. I make terrible pancakes. Not like Baba.” he exhales. “Come in.”

He leads us to the living room.

A stern-looking woman sits stiffly on the couch. She looks straight out of central casting for nannies who leave children with lasting nightmares. I worked with some early childhood education students for two summers at a hockey day camp and they didn’t resemble this woman at all.

“This is Ms. Petrova,” Alexei introduces her. “And these are the Grangers. Emery is my new chef.”

I’d like to think there’s a hitch in his voice as he explains my presence in his house, that it’s hard for him to describe me as staff , but the truth is that it sounds just fine.

He’s the same elegant European prince he always has been, an elite athletic star, and I’m the Midwest hayseed who will cook for him. Literally the hired help, and if I hear anything, it’s probably relief. Anything else that happened, once, was clearly a mistake to be swept under the rug.

I should just be lucky he doesn’t ask me to do that for him, too.

The nanny candidate ignores us and focuses on Inessa’s behaviour. “Does the child always run after you like that?” Her brows snap together, and while I like to frown at Alexei as much as the next girl, I don’t like it at all when this woman does it. “She needs structure. I can provide this.”

Something in her tone makes me uneasy. Inessa must feel it too because she’s clinging to Alexei’s leg like it’s a life raft.

“Inessa,” Ms. Petrova says sharply, followed by something in Russian. I don’t understand the words, but her tone is clear: get out from behind your father’s legs.

Inessa’s bottom lip trembles.

The next Russian instruction is clearer. Nyet placha must mean no crying, and boy does that get my back up, because frankly, sometimes a girl just has to cry.

“She needs to learn proper behaviour,” Ms. Petrova continues. “No hiding behind legs. Stand straight, speak when spoken to.”

My parents exchange a look. I can’t help myself.

“She’s two,” I say in disbelief.

Ms. Petrova’s eyes narrow at me. “Discipline begins early. The child needs routine now more than ever, when her grandmother is unexpectedly out of the picture.”

Alexei coughs, interrupting us before I can turn this into a stand-off.

My parents pick up on that, loudly changing the subject to the hockey game tonight in Toronto that they’re going to see.

“How about you, son?” my dad asks. “The team giving you a few days off here?”

Alexei looks uneasy. “Yes.”

“Back in my day, we didn’t take time off in the season. Wasn’t even there for two of my kids’ births.”

I wince, and the way Alexei’s attention leaps to my face, I know I haven’t done a good job of keeping that reaction to myself.

His gaze is so hard to read.

And as my mother quickly smooths over what my dad said, Alexei’s eyes stay on me.

“Times have changed,” my mom says. “And the team has other goalies.”

Since he’s still looking at me, I can’t miss the brief flinch.

At this point in the season, every game he sits out—and someone else plays—is a chance for someone else to scoop the starting position in the first round of the playoffs.

Last year, the Highlanders only had one round.

Even though I did my best to ignore Alexei’s season this year, I know how much he wants to be a difference maker in changing that outcome.

“I’m just saying,” my dad protests.

“Shush,” my mom says.

“He’s right,” Alexei says at the same time as I say, “It’s complicated, Mom.”

I flush and look down.

Alexei clears his throat. “I do need to get back to the team. Right now, they are in St. Louis, and I understand I cannot be there with them. That is okay. But by the time they return, I want to be back on the roster, and so it is important that I figure out the right care for Inessa and the house. It’s why I am so grateful for Emery coming to stay with us.”

The reminder that I’m going to stay here, here , alone with him and his daughter, and maybe this horrible Russian nanny, too, is just too much.

“Mom, I?—”

“Well, keep us posted,” my mom says brightly, her peak midwestern cheer effectively cutting me off, and then transitioning them out the door before I can protest.

Alexei sees them out, which puts me alone with Inessa and Nanny Nyet.

As Ms. Petrova stares at me with undisguised curiosity, I can hear Alexei getting caught up in another conversation with my dad at the door.

“You are a chef?” the nanny finally asks bluntly.

“Yep.” I pop the p on purpose, which makes Inessa giggle. She might not speak a lot of English, but my girl clearly appreciates a good dose of attitude.

Smiling shy, she comes over and tugs on my hand.

We might not speak the same language, but in this moment, I can read her mind. I sit down so we’re at the same level. “Do you want to see the photos of your dad?”

She takes my phone with glee, whining a little as I whisper for her to wait for me to open the app.

“I would have to insist on a no screen policy,” Nanny Nyet says. “For everyone in the house while the child is awake.”

My head snaps up. I give her a what the fuck glare. “I use my phone while I’m cooking.”

There isn’t a chance in hell I’m going to cook all of Alexei’s meals without suitably distracting entertainment.

Nanny Nyet sniffs. “If she sees your phone, she wants to play with it.”

Yeah, because she knows I’ve got cool Papa Makeover apps on my phone. “Phones are fun.”

“Fun?” Her eyebrows arch. “Well. That’s a simplistic way of thinking about it.”

I glance back to Inessa, but she’s already figured out the app and doesn’t need my help.

Since Ms. Petrova asked me about being a chef, I figure that’s a safe question to pop back at her. “How long have you been in childcare?”

“Twenty years.”

I wonder how many times in those twenty years she’s been fired for having a stick up her butt. “That’s great. A lot of experience. Do you find that people really like rigid rules?”

She sucks in a disapproving breath.

Awkward.

“I’ll just go say goodbye to my parents,” I say, pushing to my feet.

The front door is ajar, and as I walk down the hall I can see them still talking on the steps.

But as I reach the door, I hear my name, and I go still.

“Emery is still very strong willed,” Alexei says.

I gasp. Excuse me? Pretty sure the last time we were together, I was pathetically weak-willed and he enjoyed it very much.

“I think the word you’re looking for is stubborn as hell,” my dad says.

Alexei laughs. “You can call it like that, yeah.”

“But you know, she’s also a bit lost,” my mother says. “Her chef business never really got off the ground in Minneapolis.”

White hot embarrassment courses through me. That’s not true. Not exactly.

“I’m not surprised,” Alexei says in his accented, confident way, his words hollowing me out.

He’s not?

“She’s inexperienced, right? And naive. She has a lot to learn about the world.”

“Of course you understand.” My mom sounds relieved. “This is going to be good for her, Alexei. Maybe you can help her figure out what she really wants to do with her life.”

Inexperienced?

Naive?

I already know what I want to do with my life.

July can’t get here fast enough. The sooner I put an ocean between me and my family, the better. And Alexei, too, for that matter.