Page 53 of Breakaway Bet

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a master chef when it comes to breakfast.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “What’s your specialty?”

“Homemade bacon, egg, and cheese croissants.”

“Oh my God, that sounds divine. I’ll have that,” she says. “I need to go shower real quick, but I’ll be back—unless you need my help.”

I shake my head. “I’ve got it covered. Go do what you need to do.”

I enjoy cooking. It’s something my mom taught me when it was just the two of us, and we tried hundreds of different recipes back in the day. She always loved to cook, and my dad was always her test subject. But when he died, it became me. I’d sit in the kitchen with her for hours, watching her and helping where I could, and I’d always jump in to do the dishes since it was her most hated chore. Spending all that time with my mom is one of my favorite memories of my teenage years.

I wish she’d just move down here already, but she tells me all the time how her life is in Minnesota. And I can’t really blame her. It’s where her friends are. I made sure she would never have to work again if she didn’t want to, but she loves her job as a librarian at an elementary school. Anytime she sees a kid with my jersey on, she snaps a picture and sends it to me, always with some sort of words of pride.

All of that is why I refuse to disappoint her. Why I have to make this work with Ivy for the next year.

And honestly, after our conversation on Friday night…it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be hard work to stay with her. I’m more and more intrigued by her with every passing second.

I wonder if today is a good day to check in regarding my tequila brand. With that in mind, I dial up my lawyer, who answers on the first ring.

“Henry Langdon,” he answers. He always answers with his full name. Is that weird? I never answer my phone like that. I use the standard hello.

“Hey, Henry. I need a postnup drawn up.”

“I saw the headlines and have been waiting for your call,” he admits.

“She’s got her own shit to protect, so just keep it generic. And I’m also working on starting up a tequila brand. Can you help me out?”

“You know I’ll do whatever I can. What do you need?”

“They asked me who’s producing it, and I guess I’m most interested in doing that white label thing where I take over a product that already exists.”

“Smart, given that growing your own agave could take upwards of a decade,” he says.

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that.”

“Do you know anything about tequila?”

I clear my throat. “I know it tastes good.”

“Good thing you ran into me. It’s only tequila if it’s produced in Mexico, and I know a few distilleries who would potentially be interested. I’ll fish around and see what I can find. What are you looking to spend?”

“What’s realistic?”

“Depends on what you’re selling. You could get by under a hundred grand on the lower end, but if you want a high-end launch that makes a splash in the Vegas market, you’re looking at over five hundred.”

“You know me, man,” I mutter, already regretting my words. This was just supposed to be a way to get in touch with the girl, and here I am shelling out five hundred thousand dollars.

But tequila could also be quite lucrative. It could be an upfront investment that turns into a bigger profit. And I like tequila, so I think it’ll be worth it.

“I’ll be in touch when I have more. On your end, get started on what you want at the most basic level for branding. Name, positioning, story, visuals. I have the name of a great branding company—”

“I’ve got one. It’s actually all I’ve got right now.”

“Then get in there as soon as you can. The faster you have your branding locked in, the faster you can start slapping labels on bottles once they’re ready,” he says. “In the meantime, I’ll get your postnup drawn up. Anything specific on that?”

“Protect our own assets, that’s all.”

“You got it. Talk soon.” He cuts the call.