Page 64 of The Sebastian Guarantee
“I’d say you two are quite a team,” Mae remarked.
Phoebe leaned into him. “We’ve been best friends since we were six.”
Friends.He bristled internally and stopped typing like he’d been hit with a jolt of electricity. The word shouldn’t grate on him. It never had before, but since he’d dreamed of his mother, everything in his life had shifted like tectonic plates in motion, still unsure of where they’d settle.
“Phoebe, dear,” Enid began, “I couldn’t help overhearing the group of investors ask you about a food app that’s also a dating app. Did I hear that correctly?”
“You did,” Phoebe answered, losing her easy, flowery tone. “The app helps people identify their food craving and connects them with a nearby food truck selling the cuisine. But it seems to do more than that. People are meeting their matches—their soul mates—while waiting in line to order. It was an unintended consequence. I’ve looked over the code. I’m not sure why it’s happening.”
Theodora leaned in. “Have you met your soul mate?”
He froze again, remembering Jeremy’s smug words.
“I . . . I’ve been a fan of food trucks since I was a girl,” she replied, dodging the question. “Our friend’s dad is a chef who started out making gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches in a food truck and now runs a charity that teaches new chefs how to build their own food truck business. It’s safe to say Sebastian and I have been frequenting food trucks together since we were barely old enough to see over the truck’s counter window.”
He stifled a grin and suppressed the desire to pump his fist. Score a point for Team Cress. Phoebe Gale didn’t see her meeting with Jeremy as a love match—or at least, she wasn’t sure, and that doubt gave him hope.
“And then,” he said, looking up and meeting each of the quilter’s gazes like he had a juicy tidbit to offer, “Phoebe learned that food trucks didn’t only sell grilled cheeses. There were ones that sold . . . wait for it . . . hot dogs,” he added playfully.
Phoebe chuckled, and the easiness had returned to her voice. “I have a thing for gourmet hot dogs,” she explained.
“Indeed, you would,” Enid blurted.
Theodora, Mae, and Shirley exchanged nervous glances.
“Pay no attention to Enid. She’s . . .” Shirley mused, then looked to Mae.
“She’s drunk. Enid is drunk,” Mae announced.
“Yep, so drunk,” Enid agreed, then faked a hiccup.
“Tell us more, dear,” Mae said, pulling the attention away from Enid. “We old gals enjoy a good story.”
He scanned the group. What the hell was going on with these women? But Phoebe didn’t seem bothered by the odd exchange.
Undeterred by the women’s strange behavior, Phoebe rested her hand on his arm. “Do you remember when I saw my first gourmet hot dog food truck?”
“How could I forget? I was the one who caught you when you nearly passed out with excitement. Your uncle Rowen had to carry you while we waited in line, and then you ordered eight hot dogs and ate them in one sitting.”
Phoebe chewed her lip. “I thought it was four?”
“It was eight,” he countered. “I remember my dad saying, ‘just another reminder that our Phoebe never does anything halfway. She goes all in every time.’”
All in.
He couldn’t refrain from smiling, then recalled the aftermath of that day. “And then our friend Oscar’s dad asked the food truck chef for a plastic bag.”
“I don’t remember that,” Phoebe quipped with a little frown.
“It was the bag you used when you barfed up those hot dogs on the way home. We had to roll down the windows, and then Aria, that’s our other friend, started gagging. Phoebe’s uncle had to pull over. And here’s the best part. Phoebe dropped her puke bag in the car, and it landed on my shoes.”
“Oh no!” the quilting quartet exclaimed.
Phoebe cringed and pressed her hand to her belly. “Now I remember. What a night! I forgot about your shoes. You’d gotten a pair of boxing shoes like your dad had. I ruined them.”
He held her gaze. “It was a small price to pay for getting to spend the majority of my childhood by your side.” And then it happened again—that feeling of connectedness, the twist of her life wrapping around his.
“How’s that digital marketplace coming, Sebastian?” Theodora asked.
