Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,15
the city.
It’s Thursday. Yoga day. Time to finally have a discussion with the food truck woman.
“She’s petite,” Carson says. “Red hair. Like deep red, unusual. You can’t miss her.”
Red hair? What if it’s….my stomach drops. My ears are on fire, a ringing echoes through my head.
Carson said she had a connection to Crawford and Company. Is it the same woman? My redhead is the cupcake woman?
I knew she seemed slightly familiar and now the truth is hitting me like a ton of bricks, and it all makes perfect sense. The picture I’d seen wasn’t the best and it was black and white so it’s not shocking I didn’t recognize her. No wonder she was so nervous.
And when did I start thinking of her as mine? I shake my head like the motion will shake away the thought along with the shock numbing my brain cells.
The phone beeps in my ear with another incoming call, jarring me from my thoughts. “I gotta go,” I say to Carson and hit my phone to accept the call from Ava.
“Hey. Everything alright?” I ask distractedly.
“Yeah, we’re fine. You’ll be home for dinner, right?”
It takes me a few long moments to register her sentence, my mind still reeling over the fact that the woman I kissed and the food truck owner are one and the same. It has to be her. Doesn’t it? There’s more than one redhead in New York City, but the odds of it being someone else….
“Yes. I’ll be there in about an hour and a half.”
“Good. Emma misses you.”
I smile. Ava likes to use Emma to explain her own feelings on things.
“I’ll make something good,” I say distractedly.
“Can we have ice cream?”
“Maybe after dinner.”
“Can we have pancakes for dinner?”
“Do you ever want to eat anything that isn’t sugar?”
“Ugh, fine.” She hangs up.
Teenagers. I stop in front of the building and click over to my schedule to make sure I’ve remembered the address correctly.
I stare up at the sign and then back at my phone at the address in my schedule, 46 Hester Street. Yep. This is the right place. But this isn’t like Sonic Yoga or the Om Factory.
It’s the Meow Palace. Cat yoga?
An image flashes in my mind of Carson grinning when I agreed to take this yoga class. I’m going to kill him.
I want to turn around and run, but I can’t. I know she’s in there and I have to get this resolved. If I don’t, Oliver might pull out and I need him. I’ve already sunk too much into this venture myself and if Oliver doesn’t invest, it will fail and failure is not an option. And also, a much larger part of me wants to see her again. Wants to see her reaction when she realizes that I know the truth.
I step in the direction of the building right as a redhead in black pants and dark blue, fitted sweater walks in front of me, opening the door and disappearing inside. Her hair was pulled back but….
The door shuts on a whisper and my heart rate accelerates like mixer set on high.
I’m a statue on the sidewalk, the sight I just witnessed replaying in my mind like a video on a loop. Dark red hair, pulled up in a messy bun of the same shade.
It is her.
Even though the last thing I want to do is enter the Meow Palace, knowing that my redhead is inside compels my feet to move of their own accord and a few seconds later, I’m through the door.
There’s a “Beware of Cat” mat at my feet. The floor is all hard grey, but it’s contrasted with soft pillows strewn about, along with colorful shelves, cat houses, and a smiling receptionist.
“Welcome to the Meow Palace,” the chipper teenage behind the desk welcomes me. “Are you here for the yoga class?”
“Yes.”
She sets some forms in front of me with a pen. She’s talking, explaining the rules and what to expect. But I’m only half listening while she tells me the rules, how to sanitize my hands, and where to put my shoes and coat.
I sign the waiver, wondering if I’ve lost my mind. First, I kiss some woman without even knowing her name, and now I’m stalking her into a cat thing. I don’t even like cats.
She points out where to go and I make my way in the direction indicated.
I enter at the back of the room, my eyes immediately lasering to the only person with red hair in the entire