Page 113 of On the Power Play

"It was a last minute thing. Jack didn't even know until he came out of the dressing room." Delia's insides warmed thinking of the way he'd looked at her as he walked through the tunnel. That was when he'd invited her here.

Marc popped the tab on his can of Molson. "Well, we're thrilled you decided to make the trek up. Especially considering the effect you have on Jack's game play."

Delia frowned. "What effect?"

Marc took a drink, then set the can on the small shelf on the rail in front of their seats. "All his stats were elevated significantly in the game you attended. People think having you in the stands makes him play better."

Hadn’t someone told her that was a thing? She thought back to their first conversation with Jack in the dressing room. Kels. He’d given a stat and Jack had asked what the numbers said about fake girlfriends.

Leslie shrugged. "It makes sense. You always wanted to show off for me when we were dating."

Marc shook his head. "I wasn't showing off . . ."

They continued to banter, but Delia's mind had taken off in another direction. Would a fake girlfriend have the same effect? Did Jack hope it did? Was that why he'd wanted her to come? No, it couldn't be. She hadn’t even attended a game before he'd invited her to the playoffs.

But maybe there was some other motivating factor? She thought back to her rehearsal. To Lisa's words right as she finished. We put your pop-up appearance in all our socials, and we've already seen a last-minute ticket surge.

No. Delia pressed her feet into the floor and drew a breath deep. She was not going to do this again. She wasn’t going to tense up and crash because of shadows. Jack had invited her here. He was flirtatious in his texts. He’d stayed the night with her when she needed him to and had called in friends to help in a crisis. None of that was in her contract.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. So why was she flinching at every tiny thing?

A thought scrawled across her consciousness like her signature on the posters outside. You're terrified of making this real. What the? Delia turned the phrase over in her head, inspecting it from all angles.

She wasn't afraid of being in a relationship, was she? She’d been trying to make one happen for years. Sure, she was hesitant to jump in, but that was just smart. Guys always pretended to be something they weren't. She'd learned that the hard way enough times to look at everyone with a skeptical eye.

But Jack wasn't pretending. At least she didn't think so. Yet she was tearing the house apart for a reason to back away.

"Oh! There they are!" Leslie leaned forward in her seat as players began appearing behind the boards. They glided out onto the ice in a steady stream, like water being poured from a pitcher. "There's Jack!" She pointed, and Delia found him without even having to rely on the name on the back of his jersey. After watching his clips online and seeing him play in person, she knew his gait. Was that what it was called on the ice? His . . . canter? Delia almost laughed out loud at the mental image of a horse on skates.

Delia turned to see where the hell Mary was and found her standing next to the counter talking to Alvin. She smirked. Of course she was. As she scoured the far recesses of her mind for some tidbit about historical Canadian currency, the door to the suite opened and Clara and Oscar walked in. Saved by the sister-not-in-law. "Oh hey, Clara's here."

Leslie and Marc shot up, nearly spilling their food all over their laps. They set their plates down on the rail and walked up the stairs to Clara.

"What?" Clara clapped her hands over her mouth. "I didn't know you were coming!" She hugged her parents one at a time, the giddy smile never slipping from her face. There was a definite bump there. With her coat undone, it was obvious. But not obvious enough for her to ask about it. Not directly. She made a mental note to grill Jack about his sister’s fertility later.

Delia pulled out her phone. She scrolled an embarrassingly long way down until she found her mom's contact and pressed. It only rang three times before her mother picked up.

"Allo? Delia?"

"Allo Maman." Delia grinned, but it didn't last. Her mother exhaled with a wheeze. "Mom, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She cleared her throat.

"You don't sound fine."

She scoffed. "I had a little cold."

Delia's chest tightened. "A little cold?—"

"Don't do that, mon chou. You don't need to worry about me."

"Well, I do worry about you."

"I should be the anxious one. Are you with Jack? Is he treating you well?" her mother asked.

Delia breathed a laugh. "I'm at his hockey game. You can watch on TV if you want. It's their first playoff game."

"I'm heading to work, but I’ll turn it on for a moment." There was a clattering of pans and she muttered something under her breath in French. "Tell me what you've been doing while I eat."

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