Chapter 19
Tuesday afternoon, London stared down past her bra and underwear at the s*x-on-heels strapped to her feet and toasted with her glass of wine. “To the best s*x that I’ll never have again.” The wine sloshed precariously close to the rim, so she brought it into the safety zone of her bosom, crooning to it until it settled to the bottom of her glass once more. Spilling wine was an injustice, spilling it on the gorgeous coverlet of her hotel bed, a crime.
Her impromptu visit at the orchard had only rubbed her wounds wide open, so she’d spent the past two days attempting to lose herself on the streets of Barcelona, and when that didn’t work, locked in her room with bottles of wine.
Now, she wasn’t drunk so much as defeated. Her vacation was over, and she was headed back to reality—
