Page 64 of Play Along With Me
"You've read Audrey's work?" Jessica asks, looking equally surprised.
Jake nods, his expression earnest. "She's talented. The way she builds complex characters with just a few details—it's impressive."
"You haven't read anything I've written," I point out before I can stop myself.
There's a moment of tense silence before Jake recovers smoothly. "Not from the novel yet, but your texts are basically short stories. Remember the one about the squirrel funeral procession you saw in the park?"
I did, in fact, text him a three-paragraph description of squirrels appearing to hold a funeral for another squirrel. It was detailed and possibly overly dramatic.
"Right," I agree, grateful for the save. "My deeply moving squirrel obituary."
"It made me both laugh and contemplate my own mortality," Jake says solemnly. "The mark of great literature."
Patricia beams at us. "You two are just delightful together. Jessica, didn't I always say Jake needed someone who could make him laugh? He's always been so serious."
Jessica's smile tightens fractionally. "You did mention that. Repeatedly."
I feel a twinge of sympathy for her. I've been in her position—sitting across from an ex and their new partner while a parent makes pointed comparisons. It's excruciating.
"Jake has a great sense of humor," I say, surprising myself with the sincerity in my voice. "It's just dry. Understated. You have to pay attention."
Jake looks at me with an expression I can't quite read—something between surprise and gratitude.
"That's exactly right," Robert agrees. "Always has been, even as a kid. Never the loudest in the room, but always the one with the clever comment if you were listening."
The champagne arrives, and Patricia immediately takes charge of the toast.
"To new beginnings," she says, raising her glass. "To Jake's NHL career, and to Jake and Audrey!"
We all clink glasses, and I catch Jessica watching me over the rim of hers. Her expression isn't hostile, exactly—more evaluative, like she's trying to solve a particularly tricky puzzle.
"So, Jessica," I say, aiming for friendly but probably landing somewhere near awkwardly overeager, "Jake mentioned you're a surgical resident? That must be fascinating."
"It's challenging," she acknowledges. "Eighty-hour weeks, high pressure, constant learning curve. But fulfilling."
"Jessica's specializing in orthopedic surgery," Patricia adds proudly, as if Jessica is still part of the family. "She might even work with hockey players someday! Wouldn't that be a coincidence, Jake?"
Jake looks like he's calculating how quickly he could escape through the nearest window. "Quite a coincidence," he agrees tightly.
"Audrey works with athletes too," he adds, visibly trying to shift the conversation. "At the Liberty Hotel bar. Kevin Wooledge is a regular—he scouts for the Rangers."
"A bartender and aspiring writer," Jessica notes with flawless politeness. "How... diverse your interests are."
The slight pause before "diverse" does all the heavy lifting in that sentence. I've been on the receiving end of that tone before—the one that implies "how nice for you and your little hobby job" without actually saying it.
"I contain multitudes," I agree cheerfully. "I also make a mean paper airplane and can identify most dogs by breed from a distance."
"Audrey's being modest," Jake says, his hand squeezing mine briefly. "She's incredibly observant about people. Notices details most would miss."
"Like what?" Patricia asks, leaning forward with interest.
Put on the spot, I rack my brain for something insightful to say about Jake that wouldn't obviously be made up. I've spent a total of maybe three hours in his presence.
"Like how Jake watches everyone on his team during games," I say, recalling what I'd noticed at the arena. "Even from the bench, he's completely engaged—tracking the play, noticing patterns. He's mentally in the game every second, not just when he's on the ice."
Jake stares at me, looking genuinely startled. "You noticed that?"
"It was hard to miss," I tell him. "Your focus is... impressive."
