“Miss Winkley, it was an accident. A catastrophic slip of the tongue. A fucking brain fart, if you will.” The exasperated way he says it makes me laugh. Then he sighs again. “Frankly, my business prospect loved your desserts more than my ideas. He practically made it a condition of moving forward with a very large real estate deal. I told him I could make it happen, I had connections, one thing led to another and—and then I blurted out a white lie like a complete jackass.”
