Page 22 of Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire

I think I have to admit that I am one of those women who loves positive feedback from other people. Especially men. I’ve always aimed to be someone who’s self-sufficient and doesn’t need compliments to make me feel good about myself. But I suppose that hasn’t quite worked.

Two days ago, I got assigned a project by Mr. Rosser. Yes, the CEO. The guy I was just trash-talking a few days ago. I know what you’re thinking, "Wow, it didn’t take much to turn her mind," but I’m here to tell you that I still think he’s a womanizer.

I still think he’s full of himself, but I will give him a couple of points for having a better sense of humor than I thought. I know, I can’t believe it, either.

He almost makes me want to write a song, but I’m not going to write one. I mean, not for him anyway. I’ll write a song for me. It might be about him, but not in a Taylor Swift sort of way.

Though, I guess that is obvious because Taylor Swift writes about men she’s dated, and I have never dated Ethan Rosser, and I never want to. I swear, I really don’t.

Love always,

Sassy Sarah.

"So, you’re telling me that your boss wants you to run a new ad campaign?" Ella asks as we eat mozzarella sticks. She, Isabel, and I are at our favorite bar catching up, and I am so happy to see her. She’s glowing from being in love, but aside from that, she looks just the same. I don’t know why I expected an epic trip to change her in some way.

"Not quite run it." I shake my head and enjoy the salty goodness of the fried cheese. "And you just got back to town. We really don’t have to talk about me right now. I want to hear more about you and Colton and—"

Ella holds her hands up to stop me. "Colton and I are boring. There’s not much to say. We went to museums. He bought me jewelry. We made mad, passionate love everywhere." She pauses as Isabel groans. "What? I’m just being honest."

"Way to make us feel better about ourselves. Am I right, Sarah?" Isabel grabs the last mozzarella stick, and I look around for a server so we can order more. I need a lot more food to keep up with all the alcohol we’re consuming.

Isabel looks at me, and I nod slowly in agreement. "Yeah. we’re not trying to be haters, Ella, but we don’t really want to hear about your mad, passionate lovemaking with your gorgeous billionaire boyfriend, who’s most probably soon going to be your husband." I snort with laughter. "We have empty beds back home."

"I hope you know I’m not trying to rub it in your faces," she says, looking sad.

"I know," I say quickly, not wanting her to think that I’m being serious. "I’m really happy for you. And trust me, I want to hear all about it."

"Me too," Isabel adds. "We’re just joking with you. We don’t mind that we’re going to be spinsters."

"Speak for yourself, Isabel. I hope not to end up a spinster. I’m not that old."

"True, true. I’m just joking with you, as well."

"You two." Ella reaches her hands out to us, grabs both of ours, and squeezes them. "I’ve missed you both so much."

"You weren’t gone that long, Ella." Isabel sips on her sangria. It’s the third pitcher we’ve ordered so far, and we’re all past tipsy.

"I know, but I was wishing that you guys were there with me. I was wishing that we could go shopping along the Champs-Élysées, and…"

"I would love to go shopping along the Champs-Élysées," I say, picturing myself in France.

"I would love to have the money to go shopping along the Champs-Élysées." Isabel makes a face, and I laugh.

"True. I don’t think my credit card has much left on it to spend."

"You mean your limit? What’s your limit?" Ella asks.

"I mean, my balance is a lot. I don’t think my credit limit is saying much. The bank does not want to loan me any more money than they already have. For some reason, they feel like I can’t pay back thirty grand," I say in a haughty voice. "Do they not know who I am?"

"I guess not." Ella snorts and then beams at the waiter. "Can we get another pitcher of sangria, another serving of mozzarella sticks, and some chicken wings, please."

"Yes, ma’am," the waiter says before sauntering away like a ghost in the night.

"So, anyway, tell us about your boss. Exactly what does he want you to do with this ad campaign?" Ella inquires as she leans back in the booth. "This sounds like a great opportunity for you."

"I already told you guys. He called me into the office and said he wants me to write a jingle for a new ad campaign for our new Royal lighting line. I guess he came down to the office earlier this week to ask someone to work on it and decided he wants to give me a chance. David was a little upset, but I know I’m up for the challenge. I’m going to meet him again tomorrow for more information."

"That’s amazing. He’s most probably hoping you’ll bust out some moves, as well." Isabel winks, and I glare at her.

---