Book 2 Body Check
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“New Beginnings Surrogacy Agency,” Emma read from the brass que beside the office door. Her stomach fluttered with nervous energy as Alek’s hand settled at the small of her
back.
“We’re just gathering information,” he reminded her gently. “No decisions today.”
Emma nodded, grateful for his careful approach. Two weeks after Jack and Veronica’s baby shower, she’d surprised Alek by suggesting they explore surrogacy options–notmitting, just understanding what the journey might entail.
The agency’s waiting room looked more like an upscale living room than a medical office- plush sofas, tasteful artwork, fresh flowers in crystal vases. A smiling <i>receptionist </i>directed them to a private consultation room where Dr. Samantha Rivera awaited.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell–Volkov, wee,” Dr. Rivera greeted them warmly. “I understand you’re exploring surrogacy as a family–building option.”
“Just gathering information at this stage,” Emma rified immediately.
“Of course.” Dr. Rivera opened a folder. “I’ve reviewed your medical history. The ectopic pregnancy and resulting tube removal certainly impacts fertility, though natural conception remains possible.”
“With elevated risks,” Alek added.
Dr. Rivera nodded. “Which is why many couples in your situation consider gestational surrogacy–using <i>your </i>egg, your husband’s sperm, and another woman’s uterus to carry the pregnancy.”
“The process?” Emma asked, needing practical details to focus her swirling emotions.
Dr. Rivera outlined the steps–Emma’s eggs would be harvested, fertilized with Alek’s sperm in ab, then transferred to their chosen surrogate. Sess rates, timeline, legal considerations, and costs followed in a well–practiced presentation.
“Do we select the surrogate?” Alek asked, his analytical mind engaging with the process.
“We provide profiles of pre–screened candidates, and you choose who feels right for your family,” Dr. Rivera exined. “Some parents prefer minimal contact during pregnancy, others develop close rtionships. It’s entirely customizable.”
Emma’s mind raced with questions she’d never considered before. Who would carry their child? How involved would they be? Would she feel connected to a baby she hadn’t carried
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herself?
“May we see some sample profiles?” she heard herself asking.
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Dr. Rivera produced a tablet with photographs and biographies of potential surrogates. Emma and Alek scrolled through together, the reality of what they were considering suddenly
concrete.
“All these women are willing to carry someone else’s child?” Emma wondered aloud.
“For various reasons–financialpensation, havingpleted their own families, desire to help others,” Dr. Rivera exined. “Our screening process ensures they’re psychologically and physically prepared.”
One profile caught Emma’s attention–Katie Winters, 32, registered nurse, mother of two. Her warm smile and direct gaze spoke ofpetence andpassion. In her personal statement, she wrote about wanting to help families experience the joy her children had brought her.
Alek noticed Emma’s interest. “What about her appeals to you?”
“She seems… real,” Emma said, struggling to articte her reaction. “Not just doing it for money, but someone who understands what family means.”
They left the appointment with information packets, sample contracts, and a strange mixture of hope and uncertainty. In the car, Alek waited patiently for Emma to process.
“Thoughts?” he finally asked.
“It’s a lot,” Emma admitted. “But I’m d we went. I needed to see real faces, understand the actual process.”
Alek reached for her hand. “This is just one option, Emma. We have time to decide.”
“I know<i>.</i><i>” </i>She squeezed his fingers. “Thank you for not pushing.”
His smile warmed her. “I’m learning.”
Franklin’s improvement had been steady enough that he’d insisted on returning to the office part–time–against doctor’s rmendations but with Natasha’s reluctant approval. Emma found him in the Mitchell Industries conference room that afternoon, surrounded by Boston des management reports.
“You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” she chided, setting coffee beside him.
“This is easy,” Franklin insisted. “Light reading.”
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Emma nced at the documents–yer contract evaluations, sry cap projections, draft strategy. “These are Alek’s confidential team management materials.”
“And I’m still the majority owner,” Franklin reminded her. “Though I’ve been letting you and that husband of yours handle daily operations.”
Emma sat across from him. “And you’ve seen something you disagree with.”
“He’s preparing to trade Matthews,” Franklin said bluntly. “Our best defensive prospect.”
“For Lavoie from Chicago,” Emma nodded. “It’s been under discussion for weeks.” <fn29f9> The rightful source is ?ovelFind</fn29f9>
“It’s a mistake,” Franklin dered. “Matthews has higher long–term potential.”
“Alek and the scouting department disagree,” Emma said carefully. “Lavoie fits our system better and addresses immediate needs.”
Franklin snorted. “Scouting reports can’t rece forty years of hockey instinct. Matthews is special.”
“I’ll make sure your perspective is considered,” Emma promised diplomatically.
“Already arranged a meeting with Aleksander for tomorrow,” Franklin said with satisfaction. “Thought we might discuss it over lunch.”
Emma’s heart sank. Alek had been working on the Lavoie trade for months–his first major roster move since bing CEO. Franklin’s intervention would feel like undermining.
“Perhaps I should join you,” she suggested, already anticipating the sh of strong personalities.
“Excellent idea.” Franklin smiled innocently. “Always good to have a referee.”
The “lunch meeting” the following day proved exactly as tense as Emma had feared. They sat at Franklin’s favorite steakhouse, Alek rigidly professional while Franklin dismantled his trade strategy piece by piece.
“Matthews grew up idolizing this franchise,” Franklin argued. “That loyalty is invaluable.”
“Loyalty doesn’t win championships,” Alek countered. “Strategic roster construction does.”
“You’re thinking short–term,” Franklin insisted. “I built this franchise on long–term vision.”
Emma watched them volley arguments, caught ufortably between husband and grandfather, personal and professional loyalties. When Franklin excused himself to the restroom, she turned to Alek.
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“He means well,” she offered.
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“He’s interfering with operational decisions that are my responsibility,” Alek said tightly.
“He built this team from nothing,” Emma reminded him. “His perspective has value.”
“His perspective is dated,” Alek said, then caught himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t put you in this position.”
“What position?”
“Having to choose between us.” Alek’s expression softened. “It’s unfair to you.”
Franklin returned before Emma could respond, the debate continuing through dessert without resolution. After lunch, she returned to her office in Mitchell Tower, mind churning with the morning’s surrogacy consultation and the afternoon’s professional tension.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Alek: <i>Meeting </i><i>with </i><i>scouts </i><i>at </i><i>3. </i><i>Will </i><i>present </i><i>both </i><i>viewpoints </i><i>fairly</i><i>. </i><i>I </i><i>promise</i>.
Emma smiled at his effort to find middle ground. Another text followed immediately: <i>Thinking </i><i>about </i><i>Katie’s </i><i>profile</i>. <i>She </i><i>seemed </i><i>like </i><i>someone </i><i>we </i><i>could </i><i>talk </i><i>to</i>. <i>Thoughts</i><i>? </i>
The simple question–asking her opinion without pressure–warmed her. Before their counseling, Alek might have scheduled a meeting with the surrogate candidate without consulting her. Now, he waited for her lead.
<i>I’d </i><i>like </i><i>to </i><i>meet her, </i>she replied after consideration<i>. </i><i>Just </i><i>to </i><i>talk</i><i>. </i><i>No </i><imitments</i>.
His response came quickly: <i>I’ll </i><i>arrange </i><i>it </i><i>whenever </i><i>you’re ready</i><i>. </i><i>Your </i><i>timeline</i><i>, </i><i>not </i><i>mine</i>.
The contrast between professional disagreement and personal growth wasn’t lost on Emma. They were finding their rhythm as a couple even amid external pressures.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Franklin entered, looking surprisingly apologetic.
“I was hard <i>on </i><i>your </i>husband today,” he acknowledged, settling into a chair. “You think I’m meddling.”
“I think you’re passionate about the team,” Emma said diplomatically.
“Too passionate sometimes.” Franklin’s expression turned serious. “I saw his face when I questioned his judgment. Reminded me of your father when I did the same to him.”
Emma’s breath caught at the rare mention of her father. “What are you saying, Grandpa?”
“That perhaps I need to trust the people I’ve chosen to carry on my legacy.” Franklin reached
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for her hand. “Both professionally and personally.”
“Does this mean you’re backing off on the Matthews issue?”
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“It means I’m considering all perspectives,” Franklin echoed Alek’s earlier promise. “Including the possibility that I might be wrong.”
“Are you feeling alright?” Emma asked with mock concern. “Should I call Natasha?”
Franklin chuckled. “Cheeky girl. When did you get so wise?”
“Had a good teacher,” Emma replied, squeezing his hand.
“Two good teachers,” Franklin corrected. “That Russian of yours has sound judgment, even when I disagree with it.”
As he left, Emma marveled at the shift. For Franklin to acknowledge another perspective- particrly one opposing his own–was unprecedented.
Her phone buzzed again: <i>Katie </i><i>Winters </i><i>is </i><i>avable </i><i>to </i><i>meet </i><i>Thursday </i><i>if </i><i>that </i><i>works </i><i>for </i><i>you</i><i>. </i>
Emma stared at the message, her morning’s uncertainty reced with cautious optimism. Meeting a potential surrogate didn’tmit them to anything. It was just another step in understanding their options.
Thursday works, she replied. <i>Thank </i><i>you </i><i>for letting </i>me set the pace.
Sometimes, Emma reflected, the most powerful body checks came not from opposition but from unexpected support–from a husband who waited patiently, from a grandfather who reconsidered his position, from the growing certainty that whatever path they chose, they would walk it together.
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