“He’s running.”
“In the snow?”
Delaney laughs. “I know, I couldn’t believe it when he said he was going, but he laced up and took to the streets. I have a feeling he’s going to fall and hurt himself.”
“Well, I hope not because Dom said he’s driving us to Boston in your fancy new rental. You know, if you had that to begin with you probably wouldn’t have been pulled over for speeding.” I wink at her. She covers her face with her hands, but not before I witness her cheeks turning pink.
“You should’ve never pulled her over to begin with. Honestly, Aiden, what were you thinking?” Wanda asks, shaking her head. She sets her empty glass coffee pot down on the table and places her hands on her hips. I half expect her to waggle her finger at me as if she’s scolding me. Still, I do the only thing I can think of and point to Delaney.
“She was speeding and talking on her cell phone, Wanda. If it had been anyone else, the town would be in an uproar. You know it and so does everyone else. I can’t choose who I pull over based on their career.”
“He has a point, Wanda. I was breaking the law,” Delaney says in my defense.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Oh, that doesn’t mean I forgive you because I don’t.”
I throw my hands up in the air. Both Delaney and Wanda start to laugh. “Women,” I mutter, only to hear a “here, here,” coming from another booth. I give a thumb up to whoever is supporting me right now.
Wanda goes over to Delaney and puts her arm around her shoulder. “It’s just because we haven’t had her home in such a long time, and you had to give her a rude welcoming.”
Laney crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a smirk. I toss my napkin down on the table. “What can I do to make it up to the both of you?” I ask, pleading for some mercy.
Both women look at each other for a moment before Wanda opens her mouth. “I think you need to take Delaney here out to dinner.”
“Um…”
“Don’t um me, mister. What’s said is done, now make the plans before I make them for you.” Wanda takes her pot and starts hollering something to one of the cooks. Delaney and I look at each other, neither of us saying anything. The problem is, everyone else in the restaurant is looking at us as well.
I clear my throat, wondering how I’m going to get out of this. It’s not that I don’t want to take her out. It’s more along the lines that I can’t give her what she’s used to. “I know you’re used to fancy—” I’m interrupted by the screeching sound of my radio. “This is 8 2 4.”
“We have a situation over at the clinic and your assistance is needed,” Eileen says.
“Roger that, I’ll be there in five.” I toss some money down on the table, not caring that Delaney has already paid for my breakfast. “I’ll talk to you later, Laney,” I say as I hustle out of the diner. The call couldn’t have come any sooner. I’m so far out of Delaney Du Luca’s league, it saved me from making a fool out of myself.
Fifteen
Delaney
For the first time in a long time, I’m laughing. It’s a full-on belly laugh with achy sides and shortness of breath. It’s genuine and heartfelt. It’s being done with
out effort or a conscious decision to make sure I look my best for a camera. I don’t care if there are Santa’s on my leggings or that Rudolph's nose lights up on my sweatshirt. I finally feel free from the restraints of Hollywood.
We’re in a lounge in New Hampshire, which is a short drive from Ramona Falls, and the ambiance alone is worth it. With the guys in Boston for hockey, it left us women all alone. Sure, we could’ve gone shopping or wrapped presents, but this is better. It’s nicer, and we can hang out.
When we first walked in, very few people recognized me. Of course, I’m trying to throw people off by my attire because what self-respecting actress would be caught dead, out in public, with an ugly Christmas sweater on? This one! But now that we’ve moved from the restaurant to the lounge, people are watching. They’re documenting my every move with their cell phones and undoubtedly blasting my actions all over social media. I’m half tempted to find them all and comment, but I won’t. Doing so gives the privacy invaders the satisfaction they crave, and honestly, I’d rather read their friends’ comments, especially those who disapprove of the post.
I think being home has brought this out of me, the ability to snort in a lounge full of people, in front of my friends and family, and not freak out. This feels good. This is how I should be all the time.
“Thanks, Mom.” I put my arm around my mother and pull her close to me, kissing her on the cheek. She stays there for a brief moment before pulling away to look at me. If I’m not mistaken, there are a few unshed tears in her eyes. These are new, not the ones left over from one of our many laughing stints.
“For what?”
“For telling me to come home. I needed this,” I tell her. She hugs me back, but it’s different. It’s like she needed me too.
“Astrid and Delaney, look at me.” My mom and I turn our heads at the sound of Mindy’s voice. Her phone is out, and she snaps the picture instantly. “I have a few others too,” she says as she sits down to show us. Mindy flips through her camera roll, showing us the images she’s taken. They’re of my mom and I hugging, looking at the camera, but my favorite is the one of us looking into each other's eyes. I can see how proud my mom is of me and I hope that she knows how much I love her.
“Can you send these to me?” I ask Mindy.