Page 42 of On the Power Play

He didn’t have to clarify. She knew exactly what he meant. Things like wondering whether she remembered her dad’s face right. Or thinking about whether she’d ever told him she loved him. Wondering if the version of him in her head was the reason why she balked at any other man she met because none of them could measure up. Things like staying up half the night reading about praying mantises and worrying about whether a perfect stranger secretly hated her, or buying a hotel lock for her front door at four in the morning when she heard a rustle on her porch. “Yeah. I have some things, too.”

“Like public displays of affection. That’s . . .” Jack ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Sacred?” It was the first word that came to her head.

He paused, his eyes dragging to hers. “What?”

Delia’s hands started to tingle, though it could’ve been the lack of blood flow since she’d been smashing them against the bench for the past five minutes. “Sacred. Special. I know people don’t think it’s a big deal, but I do.” She drew a shaky breath. “I told you my mom is French, and she’s all about romance, embracing life and enjoying her body, but I think it’s because she had love, you know? She knew what it felt like to be safe, and I’ve never had that. So why would I let random guys put their hands on me? They haven’t earned that.”

Delia stopped. She hadn’t told anyone that, not even Mary. Her thoughts hadn’t ever been that clear in her own head. Jack was still staring at her, and she dropped her eyes, letting her hair fall like curtains. “Anyway, we don’t have to do any of that. We can tell the media we’re both private people. Maybe it will add more intrigue, and Tony will be thrilled.”

Jack nodded and took another drink. “Had?” Delia’s brow furrowed, and she looked up. “You said your mom had love.”

Delia’s shoulders curled. “My dad died when I was seven.” Had she not told him that already? No. She’d sung it to him. But of course he hadn’t been able to read her mind.

Jack exhaled, his breath hissing between his teeth. He wrapped his hand around his drink. He tapped his finger on the glass. “That’s the song. The one you sang at the end of the concert.”

Her heart stumbled in her chest. He’d listened. He’d felt it. If there's ever a day when I don't see your face, I'll be right here on my knees. Dans le soulagement et le regret, de toi, je n'ai point oubliet.

In relief and regret. I have not forgotten you.

It didn’t feel strange that they were sitting in silence when the server brought their skillets. Delia thanked her, then took in the monstrosity in front of her. “Wait, did you ask for extra bacon?”

Jack picked up his fork. “Guess you should’ve been paying attention during your giggle fit.”

Delia rolled her eyes and reached for her napkin wrapped cutlery. She’d made arrangements so that she didn’t come across as a head case this time. She’d be at the studio after this, and Mary had already put extra toothbrushes in the washroom there. I have things. Oh, did she have things. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I was thinking day drinking. Then the strip club.” Jack answered with a straight face.

Delia continued the bit. “Excellent choice. I think there’s a Star Wars cabaret thing in town. Sexy Storm Troopers or something.”

“Perfect. I’ll text Kels and see if he can get me a single ticket.” Jack took a bite of eggs, then watched her while he chewed, daring her to laugh.

Delia picked up one of her ten pieces of bacon and bit into it with a crunch. “So. Recording studio?”

“Yes, please.”

“And then you’ll teach me that creepy Tony song?” She snuck that in there, hoping he was saying yes to everything.

“I’m going to revoke my signature.”

She scoffed. “Not possible. Didn’t Kels make you sign it in blood?”

Jack wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Ah. But you see, it wasn’t exactly mine.”

Chapter Eleven

Jack stared at the crowd that had gathered outside of the restaurant. “What’s the plan?”

Delia blew out a breath. “I’m texting Mary. This is insane.”

“Not normal, then?” Jack glanced toward the back of the restaurant, watching for their server. He’d insisted on getting the check, especially since Tony had already deposited a week’s worth of per diem into his bank account.

Delia typed out the message on her phone. “Not normal.”

“Do you have security or anything?” Jack folded up his napkin and set it on the table, thinking of his trip from the airport.

She set her phone down. “I haven’t needed it. I bought a home within a gated community, and I always have a security guard at the venues when I do shows. My label pays for that . . .” Delia trailed off as her phone screen lit up. She frowned, and her right eyebrow dropped lower than her left.

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