Page 59 of 10 Things I Hate About Mistletoe

“Because of Anthony?” her mom asked.

Delilah didn’t want her parents latching on to this relationship before it became something. It was still too early. “Partly, but also because I decided that I deserved more. I deserve to have my dreams come true, to be someone’s first choice and not just a convenient one. I’ve decided to stop hiding and figure out who I want to be.”

“And who is that?”

“I’m not sure,” Delilah said, scrubbing the last dish and putting it into the drying rack. She turned around to face her mother, who was watching her with keen interest, hanging on her every word, and that was both wonderful and terrifying. “But I’m trying new things to see what I like. I wore a dress out to a bar last week and multiple men hit on me. It was flattering.”

Her mom flashed a sly smile. “Was Anthony one of those men?”

“No, he just made sure I got home okay.”

“See, I knew I liked him,” her mom crowed.

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I also started going to the gym. I want to get in better shape to try some new things.”

“Like what?” her mom asked.

Delilah felt like an idiot even saying the word out loud. Her mom was going to see right through that. “Snowboarding?”

Her mom laughed. “You hate being cold!”

Delilah shrugged. “I still want to say I tried. I haven’t done anything except play it safe.” She took a seat across from her mom with a sigh. “Even my writing.”

Her mom frowned. “I thought you had an agent taking out your stuff?”

“She is, but no one wanted my manuscript.” Saying it out loud was a struggle past the lump in her throat. Before her mom could catch on to her emotional meltdown, she cleared her throat and continued, “But one of the editors is interested in working with me on another project. I think I will take the series they rejected and self-publish it. See if I can find an audience for it.”

“How will that help you get in with a publisher?” Her mom asked.

“If the book does well in the indie space, those sales make me more marketable with a built-in audience.”

Her mom nodded, although the expression on her face still had an air of confusion. “Well, I hope it works out that way for you.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Delilah asked.

“Like what?”

“Like it isn’t going to happen?”

Her mom snapped the lids back on the pies with a huff. “I swear, Delilah, I don’t know what you want me to say. If I tell you my concerns, you get angry with me for not supporting you, and then if I wish you luck, I’ve got some kind of hidden message. Either way, I’m the bad guy.”

“No, it’s just that I already know how you feel about my writing, which is why I don’t like to talk about it.” Delilah wiped her hands on the towel and headed for the door. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Delilah! What about your pie?”

“I’ll eat it when I get back. I just need some air.”

Delilah hooked up Leia to her leash and stepped out the front door, closing it behind her. Her breath fogged in front of her face as she walked down the walkway and onto the driveway. When she hit the sidewalk, Delilah turned right and listened to the evening sounds of the suburbs. She could hear music coming from a house down the street. Cars passing out on the main road. Laughter erupted from someone’s backyard.

She passed by a parked gray Subaru and suddenly stopped when Leia barked excitedly and started jumping on the passenger door. Delilah checked the license plate. It was her car.

Delilah returned to the passenger side window and bent over, peeking inside the car. Anthony was in the front seat, hat pulled low over his face. He appeared asleep, and she knocked on the window, noticing him jump a foot in the air. She waved at him, and he rubbed at his face before rolling down the window.

“Hi,” he said.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Sleeping.”