Page 45 of Playing for Keeps

She laughed again and walked past me to the parking lot. “Come on, Max. Buy me a hot chocolate before I freeze.”

Everything around us, including the pale light of the winter sun and the crunch of gravel, briefly vanished. And it hit me, quiet but sure. Not only did she make me laugh, but she also drove me crazy in all the right ways. The only place that seemed to make sense was right next to her. I tried to act cool by putting my hands in my pockets, but the truth was still there – warm and impossible to shake. I liked her. Really, really liked her. And there was no going back from that.

24

EMMA

After arranging my laptop on a stack of books to achieve a somewhat flattering angle, I settled into the sofa and clicked Join.

Seeing Mum and Dad pop up together on the screen always made me happy. Just two faces a little too close to the camera, with the kitchen light warm behind them. Dad had his reading glasses halfway down his nose and a mug that said KEEP CALM, READ ON. Mum turned back to the cooker.

“There she is!” Dad boomed. “Our Canadian.”

“Hello, love,” Mum added. “Wave, darling. I’m stirring.”

I waved back. “Hello. What are you having for dinner?”

“Vegetable pie,” she said. “And green beans with lemon and butter, just the way you like them.”

“Very subtle,” I said, smiling.

I picked up the laptop and turned it towards the ceiling. “Look, Mum.” I showed her the lamp, with its golden seams glowing softly in the afternoon light, exactly where I had wrestled it into place with Max’s help.

Mum gasped, putting one hand on her chest. “Oh, Emma, it looks so beautiful! I told you it would look good in the room.”

“But it wasn’t easy hanging that enormous lamp, Mum. The coffee table will never forgive me.”

She laughed. Then Dad leaned in, his eyes bright. “Right. I need to tell you something before your mother ambushes you. I did my homework.”

“On what?” I asked, amused.

“Hockey,” he said, delighted. “Proper homework. I’ve been reading up so I can support this new direction of yours. Don’t judge me; I went down a rabbit hole.”

“I would never judge a rabbit hole,” I said. “Tell me.”

Dad leaned in with a familiar twinkle in his eye, ready to share one of his trivia gems. “Did you know that the first organised indoor ice hockey game was in Montreal in 1875? A chap called James Creighton set it up. They had nine players on each side and a wooden puck so it wouldn’t fly into the crowd and break someone’s glasses.”

I laughed. “Wooden pucks sound like weapons. How did anyone have any teeth left?”

“They didn’t,” Dad said, perfectly straight. “Which brings me to Did You Know number two: goalies didn’t wear masks until the fifties. A man called Jacques Plante started it because he got smacked in the face. Wore one, took it off, got smacked again, put it back on, refused to play without it. Sensible man. The pictures are amazing: he looks like he’s about to rob a bank.”

“Okay, I’m not writing a true crime,” I said, grinning. “But I like the details.”

Mum turned away from the cooker to show me the pie before sliding it in the oven. “It’s all very interesting,” she said, “but we know what I’m going to ask.”

“Yes, we do,” Dad said.

I pointed at the screen. “If you ambush me, I’m hanging up.”

“You most certainly are not,” Mum said, as she ladled gravy with terrifying ease. “Are there any changes in your love life yet?”

“Mum,” I said, equal parts warning and exasperation.

“What?” She shrugged. “You mentioned a boy at Christmas.”

“A man,” Dad corrected, as if that would help. “Max, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Max,” I confirmed, trying not to let my face do anything. “And no, no change. We’re just hanging out. He’s teaching me about Canada and hockey. And I’m learning how to shout without sounding stupid.”