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“Is he the investor you talked about?”
“No. Definitely not. My grandpa has enough money to live out the rest of his days comfortably, but he can’t afford to risk thousands of dollars on fake cock snot.”
The euphemism stuns him for only a second before he chuckles. “Okay, wait. Two things: does he know what your business is, and if he’s not the investor, then who is?”
“Yes, he knows what I’m selling and thinks it’s genius. Of course, there are other companies that make similar products, but they all taste like shit and don’t look realistic. I’ve been playing around with my recipe for a couple years now, waiting to start a business until I was one hundred percent confident that mine was better than theirs.” I note how comical we look sitting next to each other with our legs outstretched. My feet barely reach his knees and it’s more than clear which one of us works out regularly and which prefers to curl up with a sugary treat and a good book.
“And your investor?”
I already know he’s not going to like this because each time I’ve mentioned his name today, Eaton became growly and intense, but I’ve kept secrets from the men I’ve dated before, and I won’t do it again.
“Daniel.”
