Business

Ethan told me about the meeting over dinner.

Not at one of my restaurants.

At home.

I was barefoot at the kitchen island, eating noodles out of a takeout carton because apparently owning restaurants made cooking at ten-thirty at night feel even less reasonable.

Ethan set his fork down.

“Lauren gave me a revised proposal today.”

I looked up.

“How revised?”

“Very.”

“Better fees?”

“Much.”

“That sounds good.”

“It would.”