Page 15 of Burn the Script

One thing has become clear. I shouldn’t have waited a year to chase after him. He’s too stubborn and proud to come back to me on his own. I could sense his regret in the way he held on to me in the bathroom. Even knowing he’s still drawn to me, I’d be foolish to think winning him over a second time will be any easier than the first.

Inhale. Transition to Chair Pose, arms in the air. Exhale. Rise to Volcano Pose and hold.

I lower my arms and rest my hands on my hips, feet shoulder-width apart. An irritated grunt gets swallowed by the canyon. This yoga session has been a complete waste of time. I’m less centered now than when I left the coffee shop without achieving my goal.

Our parting exchange gives me hope, though. When Miguel sets a challenge, he cracks the door open, knowing I’m the unstoppable force barreling toward it. He better brace for impact because I have no intention of slowing down.

I retrieve my boxer briefs from the nearest lounger and drag them up my legs, letting the waistband snap into place. After an important meeting this morning, I’m flying back to Texas. If all goes well, I’ll be one step closer to having my California house back in order before I leave.

Two hours later, I’m freshly showered, fully dressed, and seated at the kitchen table, nibbling on my thumb. Blood blossoms where I’ve been chewing the skin, and my knee won’t stop bouncing. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and pinch my necklace. My guest has made it through the gate, and I’m waiting for the doorbell to ring.

When it does, I race down the stairs and throw the door open. “I’m glad you came. Wasn’t sure if you read my text.”

With her arms folded across her chest, Carmen taps a bejeweled fingernail on one elbow. “Why am I here?”

Miguel would’ve told her about my impromptu visit yesterday. They don’t keep secrets from each other. I’ve taken a gamble, counting on her meddlesome nature to prevail when I asked her to meet with me this morning.

“Please, come in,” I say, stepping aside.

She breezes past me and climbs the stairs to the living room that Miguel updated to reflect the current decade. Her tote bag thuds to the hardwoods before she sinks into a sleek, low-profile chair, crossing one leg over the other beneath her long turquoise skirt. Carmen hasn’t changed much in twelve months, but the scowl on her face is new.

“It’s good to see you,” I say. When she raises an expectant eyebrow, I sigh and take a seat on the leather sofa. “I get it. You’re upset with me for letting him down. I’m trying to make things right, and I could really use your help.”

Her blank expression is so unlike her, I’m not sure what to make of it. “How did you let him down?”

“I made a bad call,” I confess.

She lets out a halfhearted chuckle. “Wow. This is going to end in either a train wreck or an epiphany.”

“This isn’t a joke, Carmen,” I say, gritting my teeth.

“Believe me, I know it’s not a joke. You didn’t see him fall apart.”

“Because he didn’t give me a choice. Neither of you did.” I draw in a steadying breath and hold it for a beat. When I speak again, the tremor in my voice persists. “You shut me out too.”

Carmen didn’t block my number, but she ignored my hundreds of calls and messages. Her loyalty to Miguel is understandable—expected, even—but I thought the friendship we’d developed over the years meant as much to her as it did to me.

She picks at the stitching in her skirt. “I’ll always take his side, even when I think he’s making a mistake.”

“I know, and I’d never ask you to take mine.”

“But you’re asking me to join your little conspiracy,” she says. “Miguel won’t like it, and he will find out.”

Another transgression to add to my long tally. And another reason to beg for his forgiveness. Maybe he’ll give me some grace if he learns Carmen aided with my mission.

“Wait.” Once her earlier comment registers, I perk up. “You think he made a mistake when he broke up with me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, but yes. I’m sure Miguel feels the same even if he won’t admit it.”

She knows Miguel better than anyone else does, excluding me, so her opinion carries a lot of weight. It also boosts my confidence about storming his gates and reclaiming my wayward prince.

I lean forward, elbows planted on my knees. “Tell me what I’m up against. Is he seeing anyone?”

“He’s been on one date.” Carmen’s smirk looks deviant. “I knew if he went out with someone, you’d hear about it. So I created his profile on a dating app to move things along.”

“You’re already conspiring against him.”

“I prefer to call it gentle interference.” Her haughty, raised chin reminds me of him. “I’ll help you, but only if you promise to give him a fair shot. If he meets someone he likes, don’t interfere. Give him the chance to work things out for himself.”