Page 59 of The Nanny Goal

At the other end of the hall is Alexei’s room, and a doorway that has a child lock on it.

“My gym,” he says. “In the attic.”

“Got it.”

He gets me a baby monitor and plugs it into the wall in the library, aka Emery’s Temporary Room. “You can take this upstairs with you if you want to use the gym after she’s asleep.”

“Thanks.”

“I gotta pack now.” He looks conflicted.

I give him a big, bright smile. “We’ll be fine.”

And after he leaves for the airport a short drive away, we are fine—for the afternoon.

I manage to keep Inessa entertained and distracted from the fact that it’s just the two of us in the house until bedtime. But as soon as she starts rubbing her eyes and I herd her upstairs, everything falls apart.

While I’m running her bath, she’s racing up and down the long hallway, and keeps coming back to tell me that her Baba isn’t home, her Papa isn’t home, her Deda isn’t home.

“I know, baby girl,” I tell her. “We’re having a sleepover tonight. Maybe we can go see Baba tomorrow, okay?”

“Papa not home.”

“He’s playing hockey. Do you want to watch him play?”

She nods reluctantly, but when I open the app on my phone to show her the game, it’s a commercial break instead, and she starts crying all over again, asking where he is.

She sobs through her bath, which breaks my heart, and then refuses to read any stories once I get her into her jammies.

I take her back downstairs to watch the game on the big TV in the living room. I turn the volume down, because she doesn’t care about the hockey, she only wants to see her dad when the camera cuts to him in the net.

By the time we tune in, it’s the top of the third, and Hamilton is leading St. Lous 3-0, so the camera cuts to Alexei a lot. Every time she sees him on TV, Inessa gets happy, but it’s right on the edge of panic.

The last two minutes of the game are wild, non-stop onslaught on Alexei, and he blocks every shot attempt like a superhero with a dozen limbs.

I turn up the volume a bit to listen to the commentary.

“They try to thread that through, but the Hamilton D are on it. Artyomov looks sharp. The extra attacker isn’t a problem for him. He’s been on fire all night, hasn’t he?”

“He sure has. And that’s another shot stopped, glove down, and he’ll get the whistle. Finally a chance to breathe.”

“St. Louis will probably call a timeout here. And indeed they do. While they discuss a strategy to break through the strong Russian in this final minute, let’s look at some of the saves he’s made tonight.”

Inessa stands in the middle of the room, rapt attention pointed at the TV, as they show save after gymnastic save. When the camera flips to the St. Louis bench, she runs over to the couch and does a flying, all limbs splayed imitation of her dad diving to block a puck.

And then she snuggles into my side.

I wish I could pause this moment for three days, because this? Right now?

This is perfect.

She’s so small and soft, warm and cuddly.

But the game has to end.

We get another few minutes of stop and start play, with the puck getting chipped out into the stands, and an icing call, but the seconds tick away.

And when the buzzer goes, Alexei has a shutout—incredible—and we get a long shot of his teammates lining up to hug him and tap his helmet.

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