“Yeah. But what if…” I didn’t want to voice my fear out loud, because deep down, it felt like what I deserved. “What if I don’t love it anymore when I have to rely on it? Drawing is an outlet for me, and I like keeping it a secret. I don’t answer to anyone except Jessica and the book team. I have work, and then I have my hobby. Shouldn’t that be enough for me?”
“Grace, you still have guilt tied up in not loving your business the way you thought you would. Let that go.”
“It’s not that simple. What if it’s not guilt? What if it’s a warning that I’m about to do the same thing and ruin another thing I love?”
Dean made a thoughtful growly noise. “Okay, I get your point. It’s the ol’ hobby versus career conundrum. When your hobby starts making you money, do you lean into it or leave it be?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Like the woman selling jewelry. Whatever happened with that?”
“She called me yesterday and said she gave up her lease. She’s going back to selling online. She said it feels like she’s suddenly breathing with fifty-percent more air.”
“See?”
Dean frowned at me. “Your situations are different. Scaling up her hobby business didn’t work for her. But it might for you.” He shifted closer so our legs were resting against each other again. It was for moral support. Go team. We were talking about serious things, and therefore, it was a business decision to lean in. It didn’t feel very business-y, though. His hand came to rest on the edge of my chair, and I couldn’t stop staring at it. Man, I was rusty at this body-language thing. When in doubt, you were supposed to play it cool and pretend you didn’t notice the other person coming into your physical space. Unfortunately, I had no coolness factor left in me. Not a drop.
“I have a few questions for you,” Dean said.
“Okay, shoot.”
“Are you meeting your deadlines?”
I nodded. “Always.”
“Do you have trouble with feedback? Do they ask you to change things?”
“They do. I’m fine with it.”
“Has anything they’ve asked for been beyond what you’re capable of? Like, maybe you can draw faces, but your horses look like underfed dogs?”
I smiled. “Are you speaking from experience?”
“I’ve drawn a lot of underfed dogs wearing saddles.”
“I had to learn how to format things the way they wanted, but no, I’m not intimidated by the actual creation of anything.”
He turned and looked longingly at his phone. “Can I please take a look? I have Cookie Crimes in eBook form. I remember the illustrations being good, but I was focused on Jessica’s writing at the time.”
“Fine. One peek. But I don’t know how that’s helpful. Are you wanting to critique me?”
I’d lost him the second I gave him permission. He scrolled through his reading app with a concentrated look, and once he found Cookie Crimes and opened it up, he stared at each page so intently, I could have thrown an eraser at his head and he wouldn’t have noticed.
Not wanting to stare at him staring at my work, I woke my computer back up and reread through the two offers from Flowers United. There was still the option to turn them down altogether. I could go on like I had. My life was good. I didn’t have to change it just because I’d been given the opportunity.
“Grace.” I looked over at Dean and found him staring at me as intently as he’d been staring at my illustrations.
“What?” I glanced away, feeling flustered.
“You’re amazing. How can you not want people to know how amazing you are?”
“Um, because I don’t like attention on me. You already know this.” I took his head in my hands and gently turned it towards my computer screen. That’s where his focus should be. Yes, I’d worked hard on those books, and I was proud of what I’d accomplished, but I’d never said anything truer in my life. I didn’t want or need the attention from it. “Dean, Flowers United wants an answer in ten days. That’s not very long.”
I slid my hands off of the sides of him, wishing I could take some of his warmth with me. And wishing I could leave behind the memory of what his sideburns felt like against my fingertips. I seriously had issues when it came to this man. His admiration of my work was not helping, either.
“Don’t worry about their deadline yet.” He rolled his shoulders and then sat back with his arms folded. “I think you should reach out to your publisher and see if they have more illustration work for you. See what they say.”
“Publishers are notoriously slow. They may not get back to me for a while.”
“Are you under contract to not do work for other publishing houses?”
