Page 114 of On the Power Play

Delia trained her eyes on the white jersey with Harrison stretched across the shoulders. He gracefully circled the ice, taking shots on an open net. "I've been busy. I finished recording that collaboration with Ethan Hayes. I love it."

"When does it release?"

"It's with IndieLake now, so whenever they decide to publish it. Shouldn't be more than a few days. They like to rapid-release normally, so I bet they'll push even harder with this. Since the press is having a field day with me and Jack."

Her mother clicked her tongue. "Your face is everywhere. It's like you aren't even gone."

Delia groaned. "I'm sorry. That must be annoying." She tensed, waiting for her mom to mention something else that was appearing everywhere online. Then she remembered her mother barely looked at more than newspapers and magazines. "I saw the picture of your kiss with Jack Harrison.”

Delia barked a laugh. "Where did you see that?"

"Toronto Sun! Page three!"

"Wow, they must be hurting for content." She ran a hand through her hair, then waved as Clara and Oscar appeared in the aisle. They took seats on the other side of the stairs.

“Was it?—”

“Yes.” Delia whispered the word against the speaker. "Very good."

Her mother sighed. "Ah, and . . . the rest?"

Delia frowned. "What do you?—"

"Is he a good lover, Delia? Does he take you out of your head and?—"

"Mom!" Delia turned so she was facing Mary's empty seat and crossed her legs. As if that would put out the heat that was suddenly shooting across her inner thighs. "I don't know."

"You don't know if he's a good lover, or?—?"

Delia shrunk further in her seat. "I don't know because we haven't." She stopped herself at the sound of Leslie and Marc behind her. "You know what this is, Mom. I told you?—"

"I know, I know, but I've seen the pictures, Delia. You don't look like you're faking anything."

"Okay, I think the game is about to start?—"

"I have it on TV, Delia. The players are still warming up. You can just tell me you're not in tune with your body and it makes you uncomfortable to talk about natural desires and needs."

Delia groaned. "I'm so glad I phoned."

"What kind of mother would I be if I didn't tell you to experience life, mon chou? All it has to offer. None of us know how long we have on God's beautiful earth, and you worry too much. Just be there. Enjoy the moment. If you love, you love. If you get hurt, you get hurt. There is no ending you can't write a new story from."

Delia breathed as those words sank in. It sounded lovely. And completely impractical. "Love you, Mom. I wish I was there to eat with you."

"We'll eat together soon enough." Her mother made a kissing sound. Delia sent one back to her.

"I'll be back in Calgary at the end of the week."

"Good. Don't talk to me until then. Find out if Jack's a good lov?—"

"Okay! Love you, Mom!" Delia laughed and hung up the call. Weren't most mothers telling their children not to sleep with athletes?

"Everything alright?" Marc asked as she turned back to face the ice.

Delia nodded, her cheeks hot. "Yep. Just talking to my mom."

Leslie smiled. "I love that you have a good relationship. I didn't ever have one with my mom."

"No?" Delia picked up her Coke.

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