Page 72 of Play Along With Me
There's a pause before Audrey responds:
Audrey: Would it help if I came? To brunch, I mean. Not to be weird, but I actually like jazz. And your parents seem nice, albeit somewhat boundary-challenged. Jessica won't be there, right?
I stare at my phone in disbelief. Is Audrey actually volunteering to spend more time with my parents?
Me: No Jessica. But are you sure? You've already gone way beyond the call of duty here.
Audrey: Consider it an investment in our elaborate deception. Plus, your dad seemed nice and didn't aggressively scroll through my social media looking for pickle costumes, so he deserves a second chance.
Me: If you're serious, you're actually my hero. But absolutely no obligation.
Audrey: I'm serious. What time and where? Should I wear my formal brunch attire or will casual brunch clothes suffice?
Me: 11:00 at the Fairmont. And whatever you wear will be perfect. Thank you. Seriously.
Audrey: Don't thank me yet. I'm going to ask your dad SO MANY questions about little Jake and his hockey dreams while you squirm uncomfortably. It'll be great.
I laugh, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and something less easily defined. Audrey's willingness to continue this charade for my benefit is both baffling and touching. Most women would have run screaming after encountering my mother's particular brand of enthusiasm, especially given the fake nature of our relationship.
But Audrey isn't most women. That much has become increasingly clear.
My phone buzzes with one more text from her:
Audrey: For the record, I'm only doing this for the fancy hotel brunch. I hear the Fairmont has a chocolate fountain. A FOUNTAIN, Jake. OF CHOCOLATE. This is literally the only reason I'm agreeing to more time with your mother.
Me: Of course. The chocolate fountain. Your motives are pure and understandable.
Audrey: Glad we're clear. See you tomorrow, fake boyfriend. I'll be the one swimming in the chocolate fountain.
I set my phone down, still smiling. This fake relationship has rapidly spun out of my control, but somehow, I'm finding it hard to regret the chain of events that led me here. My mother's obsession with Audrey is exhausting, yes, but Audrey herself... well, she makes even the chaos entertaining.
Tomorrow's brunch will undoubtedly bring more awkwardness, more of my mother's not-so-subtle hints about long-term relationship potential, and more elaborate improvisation on both our parts. It should be a disaster.
I'm looking forward to it more than I care to admit.
My phone buzzes with new messages from the Saints team group chat:
Horak: Anyone see Marshall's girl last night???????
Culkin: DUDE already bringing her to games?
Saunders: Must be serious. She hot?
Ambroz: Leave the kid alone. Focus on Willington Tuesday.
Horak: Always focused, Adam, but Marshall's got a LIFE now.
Balcerzak: Marshie, congrats man. Saw you with her after the game. Seems cool.
I stare at my phone, mortified. The team noticing Audrey is an angle I hadn't considered. Professional athletes are worse gossips than middle schoolers.
Me: Thanks guys. Her name is Audrey. It's new. And yes Patty, I'm aware it's only been a couple weeks. And Sandy, don't be gross.
Saunders: Not being gross, being supportive! Bring her to the team BBQ next month.
Culkin: Bold of you to assume they'll still be together next month. Marshall doesn't date.
Me: Thanks.
