Page 117 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“Where are we going?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

“You said normal-people Saturday. Normal people eat ice cream in the park, right?”

Her smile could power the city. “They do.”

“Then that’s what we’re doing.”

An hour later, we’re sharing a cone of chocolate chip cookie dough—her choice, obviously—and arguing about whetherDie Hardis a Christmas movie.

“It takes place at Christmas,” she insists.

“That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie.”

“It absolutely does. Christmas is part of the plot.”

“Christmas is the setting. That’s different.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m never wrong.”

“Oh my God.” She stares at me. “You actually believe that.”

“I have an excellent track record.”

“Everyone’s wrong sometimes, Hayes. It’s part of being human.”

“I don’t like being wrong.”

“Nobody does. But it happens anyway.”

I consider this while she takes another bite of ice cream. A drop of chocolate lands on her chin.

“You’ve got ...” I gesture at my own face.

“What?”

Instead of telling her, I lean over and kiss the chocolate away. She tastes sweet and cold and perfect.

“Better?”

“Much.”

We finish the ice cream and walk aimlessly through the park. No destination. No timeline. Just wandering.

It should make me anxious. Instead, I feel ... calm.

We’ve stopped in front of a fountain. Kids are making wishes and throwing pennies while their parents watch indulgently.

“What would you wish for?” Frankie asks.

“I don’t make wishes.”

“Humor me.”