We both sit in silence for a minute. My mind keeps wandering back to the storefront, and I keep swigging my wine, trying to erase all images of it from my brain.
“Look.” Jack finally breaks the silence after the waiter comes around to refill our wineglasses. “I don’t want to push you into something you’re truly not ready for. But I’ve seen you attack this business with a ferocity that leaves me with no doubt you’d make a storefront a success. You’re unstoppable, Sadie, and it doesn’t seem like you to hold back when you really want something.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “If you really don’t want it, then this is the last time I’ll mention it. But if you do think there’s even a chance you want to go for it, I can put out some feelers, talk to my financial guy and see if he knows anyone who might be interested in becoming a silent partner.”
I’m tempted to just shoot him down right now and put us all out of our misery. But he’s trying, and he’s just so damn nice, I don’t want to put a damper on the evening. “I’ll think about it.”
“And if you need to skip rent for a few months, or more than a few months—”
“Jack. Stop.” I set down my slice of pizza. “We’ve been together five minutes. You’re my first boyfriend in fifteen years. You’re going to need to slow shit down, like several notches.”
He grins, his green eyes sparkling even behind the lenses of his glasses. “At the risk of sounding like a total sap, I really like it when you call me your boyfriend.”
I wad up my napkin and throw it at him. “You are a total sap.” But I rise up in my seat and lean over the table to plant a kiss on his waiting lips. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
“Cute enough for you to just take my money?”
“So cute I refuse to take your money.” I turn my attention back to my pizza. “But you can totally pay for dinner.”
After another bottle of wine, Jack pays the tab and grabs our leftover pizza. We walk back to the brownstone, and I tense up when we pass the space. The possible brick-and-mortar location of Bridge and Blooms. And I definitely feel a little tug of possibility, but I’m grateful when we pass by it without Jack’s mentioning a word.
Back at home, we change into our pajamas and climb under the sheets of my bed, immediately wrapping ourselves up in each other. Jack falls asleep almost instantly, the bastard.
I spend the next few sleepless hours mapping every possibility in my brain. What I’d need for the shop. The associates I’d need to hire. The business plan I’d need to create.
When I break it up into small, doable-sounding tasks, the whole idea becomes a hell of a lot less overwhelming. At the very least, it might be worth sketching out a budget. Seeing how much I’d reallyneed to spend up front. Calculating how much I’d need to bring in each month in order to break even, how much I’d need to turn a profit. These are all things I’m capable of doing. Shit, numbers and spreadsheets were my life up until a few months ago.
I finally disengage from Jack’s embrace, scooting over to the side of the bed so I can lie flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I know when the numbers shake out it won’t be impossible. The upfront cost will sound daunting, and it will definitely be risky, but when I truly break it down, and compare it to what I’ve been bringing in over the past few months, it won’t be totally out of the question. I’d be putting everything on the line, but if it worked, it could turn a big profit. The real question would be whether I can handle someone else’s owning a stake in a business that’s taken root—pun intended—inside my very heart.
“You okay?” Jack’s raspy mumble pulls me out of my thoughts.
I turn on my side to face him, unable to hold back a smile when I see his adorable sleepy face. “Just thinking.”
He reaches out an arm, draping it over my waist and pulling me back into him. “You know whatever you decide, I’ll support you. Whatever you need.”
I lean over and kiss his cheek. “I know.” I hesitate before speaking again but bank on his being only half awake for this conversation and therefore not super likely to remember the details. “I think I’m just scared of the idea of other people relying on me. Employees and investors. If I screw up, then other people lose out. If I keep things small, the only person who loses out is me. And maybe you if I can’t pay rent.”
“I promise not to evict you.” He tucks me into his embrace, planting a soft kiss on my shoulder. “I want to see you live your dreams,Sade. I gave mine up a long time ago; you shouldn’t have to give up on yours.”
I pull away from him, brow furrowing at that cryptic comment. “What dreams did you have to give up?”
But he’s already fallen back asleep. Leaving me with even more endless questions to keep me awake.
Sixteen
Jack is stillasleep—seriously, bastard—when I slide out of bed the following morning. I dress in jeans, my stolen Captain America hoodie, and Uggs; grab my laptop; leave a note for Jack on the kitchen counter; and head out.
I need to see all of this—numbers and commitments and a real business plan—in black and white. It’s the only way I’ll truly be able to make an informed decision, the only way I can finally put the whole thing to rest. Or dive in headfirst.
Walking over to Café Regular, I purposefully pass by the storefront one more time. Not much has changed since the night before, obviously. The windows are still smudged, a For Lease sign still propped inside. The brick is still hipster and cool. And even though I can’t see it, the outdoor space is still practically begging for a garden.
I let the sight of it fuel me, ordering a large vanilla latte and holing up at a table in the corner, ready to hunker down for the day.
The morning is filled with numbers and research and figuring out how much it costs to have employees. Once I have an estimate formonthly expenses, I break it down by week, and then by day. I use that number to figure out how many arrangements I’d need to sell each day and how much they’d need to be priced at. I price out utilities, and taxes, and health care, and décor. And as much as I’ve never regretted leaving my career in finance, I’ve never been more grateful for it.
After googling a hundred examples of successful business plans, I make edits and adjustments to the original one I wrote for Bridge and Blooms to include the storefront and all the new numbers. It’s probably a little sassier than needed, but I figure anyone who’s going to write me a check for a couple hundred grand should know what they’re getting themselves into.
Around noon and latte number three, my phone buzzes.
JACK:I don’t want to interrupt you while you’re in the zone, just wanted you to know I’m around if you need anything.
