Page 122 of The Billionaire's Baby
"Call it a vacation." Yeah, so I am using his words. Big deal, doesn’t mean that his voice is stuck in my head or anything.
"You mean staycation."
"Yeah, yeah." I purse my lips. I love Isla, honestly, but right now, I just want to be left alone with my thoughts, preferably with a big carton of Cherry Garcia, my fave ice-cream, and a romantic comedy to watch and cry over. Yeah, I cry over rom-coms, because they remind me of what I can’t have. What I set out to find and got hoodwinked by that scoundrel. That rake. Gah! I wind a strand of hair around my finger, and tug on it. "Same thing."
"No, it isn’t. If you were on vacation, you’d be on a yacht, sunbathing, sipping margaritas and making out with a hot stud."
"Remember, I did the first and the last?" I point out.
"And how was it?"
"Underwhelming," I lie.
"At least, did he fuck well?"
I make a motion of zipping my lips.
"Aww, come on, give me something," she whines
"Nope, not going to kiss and tell, babe."
"So, it was good then?" She waggles her eyebrows.
"It wasn’t not good."
"Whoa." Her eyes widen. "That good?"
"You’re not listening to me."
"Oh, I totally am." She nods. "Bet it was scorching hot."
"No, it wasn’t."
“And lascivious."
"Of course, not."
"Blistering, intimate, brazen, amorous?" She snickers.
"Are you consulting a thesaurus?"
"Close," she chuckles, " I made a list of excitable words from the last few romance novels I read."
"Why in the world would you do that?"
"It helps me when I’m pitching for my next wedding, to drop in the right word at the right time."
"Really?" I frown. "Do your customers actually fall for that?"
"You’d be surprised." She changes position on the sofa where she’s stretched out, "So what happened, that you came rushing back home and decided to shut him out."
"It’s not going to work out."
"What are you not telling me?"
"Nothing."
"And the baby?"
