“You’re way more likely to follow a written plan.”
Inhaling deeply, I turn the front page. “So written as opposed to typed up on a computer?”
“Yeah,” he nods, taking a bite of burger. “It’s weird. Something about the physical act of writing.”
“But I didn’t write it. You did.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He exhales a groan, shaking his head. “Still the best burger in town.”
I’m not feeling so hungry anymore. “You should write a plan for them.”
“I wish.” He swipes a napkin across his mouth. “Can you imagine if they franchised this place? It would blow away the competition.”
I hold my drink, sipping as I read what he’s written for me. “I’d only go to Dallas to meet clients?”
He nods, finishing his burger. “You’d make an appointment with a business there, put a responsible-looking face with the name…”
“Responsible looking,” I laugh under my breath.
“Everyone’s used to remote contractors now. As long as they know you’re real, you’ll be fine.”
“What do I do now?”
“Follow the plan. Take the first step.” He pops a fry in his mouth. “Instagram is a natural fit for you, since your work is so visual.”
He finishes his lunch while I read over the basics. It’s not as daunting once I start going through the list. Building an online store was my final project in my college design class. I just have to set it to live. I have photographs of my work from school, and Andre sends me digital images of all the posters he’s used.
“I can do this.” I nod, setting down my cup.
“Of course, you can.” He grins. “Now you just have to tell people about it.”
I know what he’s talking about. I pick up another fry, lifting my chin. “I told Sawyer about my plans, about Dallas.”
“What did he say?”
The fry is in my mouth, and I press my lips into a frown, remembering. “He almost sounded like he wanted me to go. He said he didn’t want me to feel trapped here.”
“He loves you.”
“He’s never said it before.”
“That guy?” Deacon laughs as he gathers his trash. “You’re expecting him to tell you his feelings?”
“Yes.” An edge is in my voice, and Deacon gives me a nod.
“Good for you.” He tosses his stuff into the metal barrel and walks back. “Show some backbone; get what you want.”
I push a fry around my tray. It’s embarrassing, but still… “What if I said in five years, I want to be married to Sawyer?”
I glance up at him, and to his credit, he’s thinking about my question. “I’d say you are the only thing you can control. I want you to be financially secure.”
“That’s not very romantic.”
“Neither is starving.”
I laugh, tossing the fry on my plate and gathering my trash. “Ma would never let me starve.”
“And you’re very lucky to have her.”