“It’s okay,” I say, crouching down where I’m standing, giving her lots of room. “Emery has so many brothers, doesn’t she? We’re hard to keep straight. I’m the smart one.”
“Logan!”
“What?” I stick my tongue out at my sister. “Oh, right. I’m also the handsome one.”
She sighs in exasperation.
Inessa races back into the living room, so I rise and cross to hug my little sister. Her belly is a firm boulder between us. When I ease back, I gesture to the beach ball of life. “Wow.”
“I know, I’m huge.” She says it with appropriate awe.
Alexei wraps his arms around her from behind. “And perfect.”
It’s impossible to hate a guy who treats your sister that well.
I nod. “So,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Mom is driving you nuts?”
“I wantedsomeof her attention,” she whispers. “Notallof it.” She lifts her voice. “Come on, I made enough food for an army.”
“Hang on, what is this centre of gravity challenge?” I look at Alexei, who despite his concern for Emery’s out of breath state is also curious about the wordchallenge.
We can’t help it, we’re competitive.
Emery shakes her head. “It’s not for you guys.”
“What does that mean?”
“You won’t be able to do it. It’s something I saw online and tricked Dad with. But it’s impossible for men.” She looks over at Alexei. “I wouldn’t trick you.”
“Me, she would trick,” I say.
“Of course,” she says.
“But we are younger than your father,” Alexei says. “And I am very flexible. What is this challenge?”
She pauses. Presses her lips together. Then shrugs.
“Alexei wants to do it,” she calls over her shoulder.
Everyone in the living room laughs.
I frown, pulling out my phone.
Emery snatches it away. “Too late, you can’t look it up.”
“Why not? I’m not going to back down, but how do I know you’re going to be impartial in your instructions?”
She backs up, leading us into the living room, where Alexei’s parents, who live with them, and my parents, who are visiting, are all sprawled on the oversized sectional couch. No wonder Emery is overwhelmed. It’s a lot of people to have in one house at the same time, even if everyone gets along.
“Good game, son,” my dad says, standing and offering me his hand.
“It’s fun to see our boys play together,” Alexei’s father, Sergei, adds. He gestures at the carpet. “Now you can compete again. Maybe one of you can do the impossible.”
“Impossible?” Alexei says something in Russian, and his father snorts. “Okay, Emery, you tell us what to do.”
She gives the collected parents an innocent look. “One, two, or three?”
“Three,” they all say in unison.
