Page 14 of Torrid Passion

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You still there, sweet lady?

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I am. Listen, you do what you got to do.

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Wow! You’re so chilled about this.

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Life happens.

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I can make a quick call and pick up the tab for your drinks and dinner.

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Save your money. I can pay for myself.

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Just my luck.

If I’m going to get dumped, at least it’s at an upscale address in LA.

“Now I really need a drink,” I mumble under my breath.

I march determinedly in the direction of the champagne bar, eager to drown my embarrassment in a bottle of expensive bubbly. I walk past a stylish set of large upholstered designer armchairs, lined up against the wall, facing my way as if they were judging me. It’s like I’m standing trial.

Sue me for wanting to know what ecstasy feels like.

Now, I’ve really lost it.

I laugh under my breath and resume my mission.

“Good evening, madam,” a waitress says when I enter the bar.

“Good evening.”

“A table for two?” she asks.

“No, it’s just me.”

“There’s a bit of a wait for a table. May I suggest the bar at the back?”

“Perfect!”

“Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you.”

My phone vibrates.

Grant. Again.

What now?

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