“Just do what I’m doing,” Alicia says, fighting to keep herself from laughing.
“I am!” Bob’s looking at her with eyebrows raised so high he looks like the ‘after’ photo of a botox catastrophe. “I feel like I’m doing exactly what you’re doing.”
“That can’t feel natural. Relax your face. You’re supposed to look surprised, not horrified.”
Whatever gene gives hockey players their talent must feed off their acting abilities; she’s worked with a few in her day and none of them could manage more than some stiff lines delivered with blank stares. It doesn’t seem to get better with practice, at least not in Bob’s case.
The doorbell rings and they both stand quickly, giving each other reassuring looks before making their way to the front door.
Jack stands in the doorway with Eric, and Alicia pretends not to notice their hands linked together until the timing is right.
“Maman, Papa, you know I said I wanted to introduce you to someone special?”
“Of course we remember Eric, dear,” Alicia says fondly.
Alicia schools her expression into a practiced look of polite surprise, and pinches Bob as his cue to do the same.
“Uh, Dad? What’s wrong with your face?”