The Billionaire’s Fight For Redemption (Noah and Sierra) novel Chapter 223

“How are you girls?” she asks, her soft smile lighting up the room.

“Great,” Lilly replies. “We thought we’d stop by for ice cream.”

“And here I thought you’d moved on to bigger, better parlors now that you’re adults with real jobs.”

I chuckle. “We would never betray you like that. This will always be our favorite place in the whole world. No matter how many ice cream shops we visit, yours will always have our hearts. Trust me.”

“You really are a smooth-talking charmer,” she laughs.

I wink at her, earning another laugh.

“The usual?” she asks.

“Yes.”

We move to pay, but she waves us off. “It’s on the house.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Robinson,” Lilly says, leaning over the counter to hug her. I do the same.

She hands us our ice cream, and we take a corner table by the window. The table is old, but our initials—SM + LW—are still etched faintly into the wood.

For a few minutes, we just sit there, eating in comfortable silence. Then Lilly tilts her head, eyes narrowing.

“So.”

I groan. “Here we go.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” she says innocently.

“You’re about to,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

She scoffs. “What are you, ten? Why are you rolling your eyes?”

I set my spoon down and pinch the bridge of my nose. I know Lilly; she won’t let this go until she says whatever is bouncing around in her head.

“Fine,” I sigh. “Out with it.”

“The guy,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “The one you went out with.”

I knew it. I should’ve seen it coming the moment she said she was taking me out to relax. She just wanted to grill me.

“It wasn’t a date,” I insist. “It was a meet-up.”

She snorts. “That’s literally the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is,” she argues. “People literally meet up and get married the next day.”

I love my best friend, but sometimes she makes me want to snap her neck.

“Lilly,” I warn.

She grins and finishes anyway. “— Your vagina.”

I choke on my drink. “Seriously? You’re unbelievable.”

She bursts out laughing, loud enough that the couple at the next table turns to stare.

“I mean,” she continues, completely unrepentant, “Talk about skipping steps. You skipped dinner and drinks and went straight to pelvic exams.”

I cover my face. “Please stop.”

“He’s seen your vagina before you even had sex,” she cackles. “That’s gold.”

Dear heavens. What am I going to do with this woman? Who even thinks like this?

“Will you stop it?” I snap, my face burning. “He hasn’t seen any of my lady parts.”

She snorts. “Why are we calling it lady parts now? Are you trying to be a good girl? Because let me tell you, you are far from innocent.”

“We are in public,” I hiss. “You can’t just go around saying vagina like you’re talking about a streetlight or some basic shit like that.”

“Need I remind you,” she says sweetly, “that you once got fucked in a bathroom and we could hear you screaming about how much your pussy loved him?”

I drop my gaze, mortified. How could I forget? It was easily one of the most embarrassing days of my life. In my defense though, I was hurting.