Page 43 of The Sebastian Guarantee
“Investors might be interested in expanding on or delving into the matchmaking side effect. Something about your algorithm works not only for identifying what food truck meal a person is craving but also facilitates love matches. It’s quite fascinating,” her uncle pondered.
It might be fascinating, but it wasn’t how she wanted to make a mark in this world. And she wasn’t sure why an app to pick what food one was craving also seemed to be able to match users with their soul mate.
“Don’t get me wrong, Uncle Row. I’m beyond happy people have met their love matches with the app, but it’s not what I want to focus on.”
“Why limit yourself? Nobody says you only have to do one thing. Your father and I worked on both Gale Tech and Gale Gaming.”
Phoebe sighed. “And I’m in awe of that. But turning Munch Match into a love match app was a fluke. I don’t know how it happened. Not to mention, I’m the last person who should oversee matches. I pick the wrong guy every time. Madelyn said our matches were already made. I remember it like it was yesterday, but I’m not sure if that applies to me anymore,” she answered, then peered at her friend’s hand clasped around hers—emphasis onfriend.
“Whatever you do, always know your uncle and I support you,” Penny said warmly.
Rowen glanced at his phone again. “Unless it involves what’s on your Info Darling page. We’re open-minded people, however—”
God help her!“Okay, no more hot dog talk. I’ve experienced quite enough embarrassment for one day.”
“I’m writing a sticky note for your uncle to remember that,” her aunt Penny said, dumping out her purse’s contents onto the table and plucking a pen from the pile. Her uncle’s eyes nearly popped the lenses out of his glasses as he took in the clutter.
Phoebe smiled at the two people who’d raised her and showered her with affection. “I love you both very much. But if I don’t end this call, I might combust thanks to an excess of mortification. Buh-bye,” Phoebe blurted, then slapped her laptop shut and rested her head on the cool surface.
Sebastian’s thumb grazed the back of her wrist. “Your uncle was on the mark with his comments.”
She groaned. “Sebastian Cress, not you, too. Please, we’re dropping the horny hot dog talk.”
“I’m not talking about your hot dog fetish, Pheebs.”
She tilted her head to glare up at him but softened her gaze as his expression grew sober.
“Your uncle was right about your parents,” he said gently. “You’re an amazing woman, Phoebe. If they were still alive, I’m certain they’d be proud of you.”
She sat up and peered at a framed photo of her parents on their wedding day. The pair stood in front of a stone altar. She kept it next to the glass canister of coffee beans and a note card with her high school quote tucked inside the frame.
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
Reading those words, then taking in her parents’ smiling faces, was how she greeted each day.
“They’re the reason I’m working so hard—why I insist on building my own business without my family’s money. I want to make them proud. I want to be worthy of my last name.”
Sebastian’s chin dipped as he stared ahead with a wistful look. “I understand that completely.”
A fluttery feeling took over. She had to ask the question that had lingered around the edges of her mind and in the depths of her heart. “What happened six months ago, Seb? Why did you—?”
“Throw away everything I’d been working for, blow off my friends and family, and start acting like a spoiled wanker?”
She gifted him with a weak grin and a half-shrug. “Yeah.”
The air in her apartment thrummed with anticipation, or perhaps it was her heart beating like a drum, desperate to hear his reply.
The conflicted look he’d had earlier returned. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he couldn’t hide the struggle going on inside. He released a pained breath. “It’s complicated.”
Chapter9
PHOEBE
It’s complicated?
Sebastian’s words hovered in the slice of space between them.
Phoebe observed his body language. With a hardened demeanor and agony welling in his eyes, she didn’t want to cause him any further pain. Still, she needed to know what was going on inside his head. She’d spent half of a year racking her brain, wondering what could have triggered her loyal, steadfast friend to lose track of what mattered most to him.
