Page 40 of On the Power Play

“You’re laughing with me, right. I’ve heard it all before.” Jack pretended to be pissed, but she saw the corner of his lips twitching.

Delia sucked in a breath. “You have to teach it to me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“After you just publicly mocked me?”

Delia pursed her lips as her eyes filled with tears at the effort of keeping another bout of laughter from escaping.

Jack doubled down. “I travelled across the country to have breakfast with you, and within two minutes of me sitting down, you treat me like this?”

Delia was dead. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was making an absolute spectacle of herself, but she couldn’t help it. It was stupid, but that was the funniest thing she’d seen in months, and because of the impeccable replay function in her brain, she was watching it on repeat.

A server with her hair pulled into two Instagram-worthy French braids appeared at their booth. “Hey, can I get you two anything to drink?”

Jack turned away from her, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening while Delia dropped her head into her arms on top of the table to hide her breaking face. His voice was smooth as honey. “Hi there, I’ll have the Morning Meditation and the skillet with scrambled eggs and extra bacon.”

The server scribbled his order down in her notepad. Delia tried to pull it together. When she was little, she’d been kicked out of dinner for having giggle fits at the table, and it was only after her mother had found her sobbing in her room wailing, “It’s not my fault I feel so happy!” that her parents had reconsidered their strategy. Then their family had gone from three to two. She didn’t think she’d laughed at the table since.

That memory sobered her, and Delia lifted her head. “Uh, I’ll take the same.”

The server blinked. “The same thing?”

“Right.” Delia grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her eyes, her giddiness transforming into embarrassment.

“I’ll get that right in for you.” The server bounced back toward the kitchen, and Delia slumped against the back of the booth.

“I’m sorry. I have no idea what got into me.”

Jack watched her curiously. “Is this another no-filter moment?” Delia nodded, wishing she could blow her nose. He leaned in. “It’s not midnight after a show.”

She sniffed. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“No?”

She shook her head.

“Me either.”

Delia set down her napkin. “What time did you get in?”

“Just after one.”

She winced. “I’m sorry.”

“It was the only flight that worked with my practice time.”

“Are you missing practice today?”

Jack nodded. “I’ll do my lifting sets in the gym at the hotel later.”

Delia imagined him in shorts and a T-shirt with a squat bar and her face flushed deeper. Again, she tried to sort out what it was about him that both put her on edge and made her feel like she was putting on her favourite sweatshirt. She shifted on the bench and lowered her voice. “Can I ask you something?”

Jack fiddled with the salt shaker. “Sure.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

---