Page 94 of Igniting Sparks
I nod, but at this moment, I don’t care if I ever hear from any of them again.
There’s only one man I need to reach, and I pray it isn’t too late.
Chapter 21
The Muffin Proposal
Mina
“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up,” I mutter into my phone as I pace beside my car.
Finally, Ori answers. “What’s new, drama queen?”
I guffaw, uncertain whether to laugh or cry at this point. “Well, let’s see. My aunt told me that running the studio was contingent on me shacking up with my ex, Leo.”
“Shit,” Ori breathes.
“Oh, it gets better. I admitted the engagement was fake, staged for her benefit. She told me she knew all along.”
“And she let you play it out anyway? That’s diabolical.”
“That’s Bitsy.” I snuffle, running my hand under my nose. “The worst part is she knew and still treated Braden terribly—like she did it for kicks.”
“The rich truly are a different breed.” Ori sighs into the phone. “What did you tell her?”
“That I’m in love with Braden, that he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and that she could take her studio and shove it up her ass.”
“You did not say that.”
“Not exactly, but something similar.” I grip the phonetighter. “Please tell me where he is. He’s not answering his phone, and I need him to know how I feel. That I want him and only him?—”
My voice catches, breath hitching as I press my hand to my chest, willing myself to stay grounded.
“Breathe, Mina. He’s at The Tap, that bar on the edge of town.”
“Thank you.”
“Damn, girl. You grew yourself a pair, huh?” Ori giggles, and I imagine my friend rolling her eyes, thrilled I finally woke up to what matters.
I chuckle, the first real laugh all evening. “It took me twenty-five years, but it felt so good, I might have to use them more often.”
“Now that I like to hear. A woman always needs to stand up for herself and her man. Go get him, Mina.”
Stares trail me as I enter The Tap.
Hey, I get it. Everyone here is dressed in jeans and boots, while I’m rocking a cocktail dress and stilettos.
I do not blend, but that doesn’t matter.
I have one mission. Find my man. And pray I don’t have to kill anyone who touches him.
Perhaps I have no right, but I’m in a fighting mood—and if that includes a brawl in the parking lot, so be it.
I’ll picture my aunt’s face on every one of them, and that bitch won’t stand a chance.
Yes, it’s bravado, but a girl needs all her armor in place for this mission.
“Hey, darling,” a man murmurs from the bar, but I wave him off as I strut past.
