Page 101 of Igniting Sparks
“You were adorable. And I knew I could look at you forthe rest of my life and be happy.” He runs a tender hand down my face. “I love you, Mina.”
All the poetic, beautiful, sappy words fly out of my head the second he says it.
I cover my mouth with both hands, tears brimming in my eyes.
“Don’t start crying,” he murmurs. “It’s notthatbad.”
And now I’m laughing through my tears, peppering kisses across his cheeks and jaw. “Promise me I can love you forever.”
A mischievous sparkle lights up his face. “I’m sure you can convince me.”
Oh, he wants to play? Game on.
I pop to my feet and grab his hand, tugging him toward the door. “Convincing you won’t be the hard part. Keeping up with me might be. Hope you’re ready, Hammond.”
Later that afternoon, I call Mom via video chat. She deserves to know what’s going on with Bitsy, regardless of the outcome.
We spend a few minutes on small talk, discussing her new place and how she got lost trying to find the post office.
But then we shift to the important stuff. The good stuff.
Turns out, I don’t have to tell her about the dinner—Bitsy beat me to it.
“Your aunt said you gave quite the performance last night.”
I pick at my cuticle and shrug. “She deserved it.”
“Not according to her.”
“Let me guess. I’m terribly rude and dating a horrible hooligan of a man.”
My mother laughs. “Something like that. I was shockedwhen she called me. Figured you had to have done something to anger her.”
“That’s me. Burning bridges all the way.”
“Want to tell me your side? I have a feeling it’s closer to the truth.”
So, I do. I rehash the entire debacle—from the wedding weekend to the French bistro.
By the end, Mom looks exhausted.
“Are you mad?” I ask, unsure I want to know the answer.
The thing is, besides Braden, my mom is the only person I never want to disappoint. That studio wasn’t just important to me—it represented a foot back in the door for her, too.
A door that I assume is now permanently locked from the inside.
“At you? No. At our aunt? Irredeemably. She’s always been pushy and pedantic, but this is too much.”
“Not the way she sees it.”
My mother laughs. “Don’t you know Bitsy has never been wrong a day in her life? The only woman in the world who’s infallible.”
I’m so glad she’s on my side—that she understands I couldn’t walk the elitist tightrope Bitsy demanded.
“She’ll never give me the studio now,” I mumble, equally preparing her and myself for the inevitable.
“Maybe not. I gave her an earful about how you were the best candidate and what really matters is the students. She claimed Leo said the same thing, so… maybe she’ll see reason.”
