Wash

She dug in her purse and reached for her lighter. “Let’s burn this now.”

I let out a long breath. “Go ahead,” I said, keeping it to myself that I had two more photos just like it in my purse.

The low-burning, flickering orange flame engulfed the picture, and Nadia dumped her glass of ice water over the ashy remnants.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out of here,” I said, sopping up the water, “or arrested for attempted arson.”

The waitress came rushing over. “You can’t do that here! I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Nadia glanced up at her and grinned. “I’m sorry. I suppose I got carried away, but we were burning up a very bad memory.”

“See, I was dumped on my wedding day and…” I chimed in, but I couldn’t bear to go on with my sordid, heartbreaking tale, especially not to a complete stranger.

Her face softened, and I swallowed hard, ashamed that I’d opened my big mouth; I’d never been one for pity parties. “You don’t have to say another word,” she said. “Just save the rest of your pictures for a big, roaring bonfire in your backyard. Burn his clothes and all his stuff. That’ll teach him.” With that, she smiled and walked off.

I swirled the wine in my glass. “You should’ve seen him. He’s been working out, and he looked so hot.”

“I know. I saw him.”

“What!? When?”

“At your mother’s funeral.”

I cocked a brow. “Oh. I didn’t even know he was there.”

“Yeah, well, he kinda lingered back in the shadows. He wanted to pay his respects without upsetting you even more.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honey, you were a hot mess. None of us wanted to add to your sadness.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“We were all best friends in high school, so yeah, but I really let him have it in the parking lot. He just kept telling me how young and scared he was.”

“So he lives here now?”

“He said he moved back from Texas a few days before your mom passed. He’s a firefighter, and his job transferred him here. I bet he asked for the transfer so he could be back with his family and, uh…his friends,” she said, touching my arm.

“I’m glad you didn’t tell me,” I said. “I’m not sure I coulda handled seeing him at my mother’s funeral.”

“Oh, while I’m thinking of it, I sketched some images for the fall line.” She handed me a sketchbook.

I studied the designs. “Wow. Bold, daring, and beyond stylish. I love them.”

She smiled. “I hoped so.”

“Any word on the loan yet?”

“Not yet, but we’ll know for sure by tomorrow or the next day.”

“We’re gonna soar, girl. I want to cater to all women—slim, tall, petite, and plus-sized.”

“Yep. Just think of us as female entrepreneurs using fashion to empower women and design a better world.”

“That should be our slogan,” I said. “I can’t wait to turn our fantastic ideas into a successful business.”

“You’re always so…motivating, and you always make me feel so smart, stylish, and business savvy. I feel like I can touch the moon.”