Page 59 of Play Along With Me
"Oh! Sorry," I say quickly. "Jake, you remember my friend Leila."
"Yeah," Jake says, shaking her hand. "From Collin's party."
"Yes," Leila says immediately. "Is she finally talking about me? I am her best friend that gives her the best advice."
"Only good things," he assures her. "Though she did mention something about blackmail involving a Michael Bublé concert?"
Leila grins wickedly. "Oh, we could talk for hours about that. Perhaps over drinks sometime?"
"Don't you dare," I warn her.
"Did you enjoy the game?" Jake asks, mercifully changing the subject.
"It was surprisingly entertaining for a sport I understand approximately seven percent of," I admit. "Though I still maintain that ice rugby would be more exciting."
"Ice rugby?" he repeats, looking amused.
"Audrey's suggestion for improving hockey," Leila explains. "No rules, just chaos. Potential fatalities."
"That's basically just regular hockey in the 1970s," Jake laughs.
"See? I'm ahead of my time," I tell Leila triumphantly. "Or behind it. Whatever."
"The nachos were a hit, by the way," Leila informs Jake. "Audrey took one bite and contemplated selling her cat to afford more."
"Mr. Darcy is not for sale," I clarify. "Though he could stand to contribute to the household expenses more. Freeloading feline."
Jake seems about to respond when a commotion behind him catches our attention. An older couple is pushing through the crowd, waving enthusiastically.
"Jake! There you are!" the woman calls out. "We've been looking everywhere!"
Jake's expression shifts almost imperceptibly—a brief tightening around the eyes, a slight stiffening of his posture—before he breaks into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
He leans in and whispers, "Play along with me."
My eyes scan his face rather quickly as I try to piece together what in the hockey terminology that means.
"Mom, Dad," he says. "I thought we were meeting at the restaurant."
"We couldn't wait!" his mother gushes, pulling him into a hug. "You were wonderful tonight! The way you supported your teammates from the bench—so professional!"
"Thanks, Mom," Jake says, looking slightly embarrassed. "Um, this is Audrey and Leila. Audrey, Leila, these are my parents, Patricia and Robert Marshall."
Patricia's eyes immediately lock onto me with an intensity that makes me want to check if I still have nacho cheese on my face.
"Audrey?" she repeats, her voice rising with interest. "You're Audrey?"
"Last time I checked," I confirm, smiling awkwardly. "Unless there's been a terrible mix-up at the Audrey Factory."
"You must be the new girlfriend!" Patricia exclaims, her face lighting up with delight. "Jake mentioned he was seeing someone, but he's so private about these things!"
The word "girlfriend" hits me like a slap of cold water. Girlfriend? New girlfriend? What?
"I'm—" I stammer, feeling my face heat up. His words echo on my cheek,play along with me. "Uh––"
Jake suddenly takes my hand, squeezing it gently but firmly—a clear signal to not talk.
"Yes, Mom," he says with surprising confidence. "This is her. Audrey is my girlfriend. It's new, but... special."
