Page 5 of A Toast for Laurent

“ThePhoebe Hodge?” Franc, my younger brother by two years, asked.

“That would be the one.” I leaned forward in my desk chair, meeting Franc’s gaze. His 6’3 frame packed with solid muscle overwhelmed the club chair that only two days ago Phoebe had been swallowed up by. I still couldn’t believe she was back in my life.

“Fuck man. You couldn’t write this shit if you tried.”

“No kidding.”

“So let me get this straight. You’re going to pretend to be together.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Is this just for the engagement party?”

“I don’t know. We’re working the details out tonight.”

“Tonight? Public or private?”

“I’m meeting her at Green Mountain Resorts at five. According to her business card, she’s the VP of Operations for all Green Mountain Resorts in the United States.”

Franc whistled low. “She’s done well for herself.”

“She’s always been driven.”

“Driven to take off and ghost you.”

“If I knew you were going to be a dick, I wouldn’t have told you.”

Franc had been one of the few people who knew the truth about what had transpired between Phoebe and me.

“Technically, Nero told me.” He held his hands up. “I’m just saying. Did you ask her what the hell happened?”

“Not yet.”

He fucking snorted. “I wish you luck, brother. I need to go pick up Gio from school.”

“Tell my nephew he owes me a rematch of Battleship. I still can’t believe he beat me.”

“He really bruised that ego of yours.”

“I swear he cheated.”

“No, you just can’t admit a six-year-old kicked your ass.”

I pointed as he walked away. “Rematch.”

“I’ll run it by him.” Franc knocked twice on the doorway before walking out to pick up his son. Eighteen years ago, I never thought he’d be the first to marry, first to have a kid, first to divorce. Now he had sole custody of Gio, thanks to his ex who cared more about herself than her own flesh and blood.

I never liked the bitch.

I made a few phone calls, reached out to our distribution partners, went over inventory, and reviewed a potential bid to get our low-cost blends in a major chain restaurant.

Phoebe texted saying she could skip out a bit early if I was able to meet her at four. I agreed. The faster I got the meeting over with, the better.

Chardonnay stood in the doorway, her tan pants starched to perfection and her light blue blouse tucked in without a crease. “What’s up, Char?”

Chardonnay glanced up from her notebook that she always had her nose in. “Did you ever talk to Dad regarding whether he wants to add an outside bar?”

“Yeah, and he told me I could figure it out.”

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