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Fake It Till You Bake It(108)

Author:Jamie Wesley

“I don’t want to have a job because my grandmother handed it to me. I liked what I was doing at Sugar Blitz, but I need to continue to move forward, planning events on my own.” She lifted her chin. “I want to do this. Prove to myself that I can.”

Grams sighed. “Jada, I know your parents took away your credit cards and stopped paying your bills. Your mother assumed you had told me, which you should have. She and I had some words about that, believe me.”

Jada made a face. “Which is why I didn’t tell you.”

“Hmmph.” Grams’s lips twisted with disagreement for a moment, but then she held her hands up in supplication. “Well, now that you’re no longer working at the cupcake shop, I can give you access to your trust fund.”

Jada shook her head. “No, you can’t.”

“Why not? You need money to eat. And it is your money.”

“That I’m not supposed to have until I’m twenty-six if I can prove to you that I can keep a job, which I’ve failed at admittedly, but I have a plan.”

Grams scrutinized her face, opened her mouth like she intended to argue, but then she sighed. “Okay, if you’re determined to do this, then I support you. How can I help?” She snapped her fingers. “I know. I can give you a job in our marketing department planning events. I’ve always wanted someone in the Townsend bloodline working for the team.”

Jada laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. “Grams, that’s exactly what I don’t want!”

“I just want to help you, honey. I worry about you.”

Jada covered her hand with her heart. Her grandmother’s love and support meant the world to her. “I know you do. A month ago, you asked me if I had a plan. I didn’t then.”

“But you do now?”

Jada nodded. “I do. I’m not sure how good it is, but I do. I’ve made some contacts while working at the cupcake shop. I have a few leads on event-planning jobs. They’re small, but I have to start somewhere. I’m hoping if I can prove to you that I’m serious about it and good at it for the next few months, you’ll give me access to my trust fund on my birthday so I can put more money into my business.”

She lifted her chin, ready for her grandmother’s response, no matter what it was.

Grams squeezed her hand. “Jada, I love you, and I’m here to help in whatever capacity you need, whether that’s emotional or financial support. As it happens, I do know a thing or two about running a successful business. I’d love to add mentor to my grandmotherly duties.”

Jada’s lips lifted into a tremulous smile. Even if her heart was splitting open, at least one area of her life could be on the upswing. “I accept.”

* * *

“Where’s Jada?” Mr. Till asked as he stepped up to the counter.

Donovan sighed. “You ask that question every day.”

Mr. Till shrugged in the universal sign for And?

Donovan sighed and opened the display case to retrieve the red velvet cupcake, the only cupcake they served worth a damn, according to Mr. Till. He snapped the case closed with a little more force than necessary. “She no longer works here, which you know.”

When he gave that response to inquiring customers, he usually followed it with, “We’re still dating, but we’ve decided to be more private about our relationship,” partly because he wanted it to be true, and partly to protect her. He would never intentionally cause her distress. He’d rather cut off his arm with a rusty saw.

Mr. Till made a face. “Son, I’m going to give you some advice. You’re not that bright, but maybe it will sink in somehow.” He pointed a bony finger at Donovan’s chest. “If you let a woman like that go without a fight, then you’re a dumbass.”

Donovan slid the cupcake across the counter. “Are you going to pay for this or not?”

He didn’t give a damn that he was being rude to a customer. At this point, Mr. Till was family, coming in here every day and sticking his nose into everyone’s business like a patriarch. Besides, he was not in the mood. Jada had left of her own volition and had not been in touch once in the past three months. He checked his phone, his email, and even his DMs on social media accounts every two minutes to make sure. She wasn’t ready. Maybe she would never be ready. Hell, maybe she was done completely and didn’t think about him a million times per day like he did her.

And he couldn’t escape her, even here at work. Even if customers weren’t asking about her, all he had to do was look up and see her handiwork everywhere.