What Happens in Vegas...
“Shooting off her mouth—and thereby shooting herself in the foot—had moved from being an occasional lapse to a full-time occupation.
And things had been going so well. Well, better, at least. The rocking chair she was currently sitting in was proof of her belief in that. And her hope. Why else would she be decorating a nursery unless she harbored the hope it would see good use?
Oh, she’d rationalized it, telling herself that Nick would want the baby to have a nice room of its own for when he or ...she came to visit. But now, as she berated herself for her astonishing inability to keep her trap shut, she had to admit that wasn’t really the complete truth.
She’d been designing this room for the long term. It was a long-shot, secret hope—one she didn’t really want to admit: the hope she and the baby might be here for much longer than originally planned. And that was totally stupid, considering the situation.
Because that meant…Well, damn. She shouldn’t even go there. Crossing that bridge wasn’t a good idea.MoreLess
And things had been going so well. Well, better, at least. The rocking chair she was currently sitting in was proof of her belief in that. And her hope. Why else would she be decorating a nursery unless she harbored the hope it would see good use?
Oh, she’d rationalized it, telling herself that Nick would want the baby to have a nice room of its own for when he or ...she came to visit. But now, as she berated herself for her astonishing inability to keep her trap shut, she had to admit that wasn’t really the complete truth.
She’d been designing this room for the long term. It was a long-shot, secret hope—one she didn’t really want to admit: the hope she and the baby might be here for much longer than originally planned. And that was totally stupid, considering the situation.
Because that meant…Well, damn. She shouldn’t even go there. Crossing that bridge wasn’t a good idea.MoreLess
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