Chapter 24
Freddie was late to his meeting with Mark and George the following day.
It wasn’t intentional, though he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, either.
He still hadn’t bothered to read the contract that AirSoil had sent over the week before, or even come up with any intelligent questions to ask about the position.
It felt hollow, a title for title’s sake, to show off on a business card or to his parents when they wanted to come by and see his corner office.
But that wasn’t what kept him from looking at the clock. He had been distracted by the one person he had worked for years to compartmentalize, the same one he had been avoiding since yesterday morning: Anne Elliot.
Twenty-four hours ago, she had been his. For a fleeting moment, the distance, the anger, the resentment—it had all disappeared.
It was like coming home.
But there was another side of that coin, one he hadn’t anticipated until it flipped right there before him.
It was home, but one that hadn’t changed, like his room back at his parents’ house: nostalgic and full of love, but so stuck in who he used to be that it seemed intent on ignoring who he was now.
That’s when the anger and resentment came back. Because it never really went away, did it? All of it was just tamped down, suppressed for the sake of keeping a fantasy alive.
Shit. He ran a hand through his hair. Was it a fantasy? Was the whole idea of him and Anne cursed from the beginning? Or had he broken it, sabotaged something he’d never find again?
What do you want, Freddie? Anne’s words echoed in his head.
When he and Anne were together in college, he had known exactly what he wanted—to start a nonprofit to help develop sustainable farming techniques and take it around the world to those who needed it most. The when, why, and how were things he knew he’d figure out along the way.
And because he’d left that open-ended, he had gotten sidelined for the sake of investment and growth.
Wentworth Hydroponics was built on the ground where his nonprofit should have been.
He hadn’t even taken the time to mourn it.
So what did he want now? How the hell could he ask Anne to figure out her shit if he was in denial about his own?
His car pulled up outside AirSoil’s headquarters on Fifty-Eighth Street, and he tried to ignore the crushing weight of that question as he headed inside and upstairs.
George and Mark were already waiting in a conference room when Freddie arrived on the twentieth floor.
He barely remembered shaking their hands, saying hello.
Then he sat down, trying to focus on whatever the hell Mark was saying.
After a few minutes, Freddie still couldn’t recall a single word.
Not that it mattered. He had been in enough of these types of meetings to know that the first few minutes were filled with bullshit.
His gaze wandered to the large window against the far wall that gave a sprawling view of downtown. The snowstorm wasn’t due to hit until tomorrow night, but he could already see the clouds swirling overhead, leaving a gray tinge to the skyline.
You left to forge your own path but still ended up where you never wanted to be.
Anne’s words came roaring back, taunting him from the corner of his brain where he had tried desperately to store them away.
An abrasive laugh cut through the air, pulling him back to the conference table. He turned to find it was coming from Mark. Freddie had obviously missed the punch line.
Then Mark turned to him. “So what do you think, Wentworth?”
Freddie knew he should at least try to pretend that he hadn’t missed the entire conversation, but he couldn’t muster the effort. “About what, Mark?”
George cleared his throat. “Mark was just explaining how this new division wouldn’t step into the markets already carved out for Wentworth Hydroponics.”
“Wouldn’t make much of a dent anyway,” Freddie replied, maintaining a practiced smile that felt so sharp it could cut glass. “Part of the acquisition meant that the patents in that area entered the public domain. Those systems belong to whoever needs them now.”
“And I appreciate your effort toward altruism, I do,” Mark said, leaning back in his chair. “But at AirSoil, we need to think bigger.”
“Bigger,” Freddie repeated.
“Exactly,” Mark said, tenting his fingers in front of him.
“Wentworth Hydroponics is in developing communities around the world, and sure, that’s great, but that’s not where the money is.
We want to make hydroponics a luxury item.
Celebrity endorsements, expensive price tag, you get what I’m saying. ”
Anne’s words were back, echoing through Freddie’s skull. Suddenly, the anger and frustration he had been working for months to subdue began to swell, and he didn’t care about containing it anymore.
“Did you ever read the mission statement for Wentworth Hydroponics, Mark?” Freddie’s tone was calm but stern, the one he usually reserved for meetings with companies or municipalities more concerned with profit than the people they claimed to help.
The one he wielded to ensure that, regardless of who bought his company, the patents for all his work would go into the public domain for anyone to use.
Mark’s expression faltered. “Sorry?”
“It’s okay, it was long. I’ll summarize it for you.” Freddie leaned his elbows on the table. “Leave the planet a better place than we found it.”
Mark laughed again, as if this were a joke, even as George’s expression became stoic. Unreadable.
“Listen, I know you’re trying to keep that altruistic angle, and that’s great. Really. But none of that matters now.” Mark leaned an elbow on the table. “We’re here to make money; you need to understand that. And if you don’t, I need to know that now. Okay?”
“Okay, Mark,” Freddie replied, donning a sharp smile. “Then I guess there’s something you need to know.”
George didn’t say anything as he and Freddie left the building and walked out to their waiting Suburban.
His expression was blank—he was good at that—so there was no way to gauge how pissed he was.
But it was safe to assume he had to be. Freddie had left every feeling he had about the new CEA division on the table, calmly outlining his contempt for Mark and his entire idea, then segued into all the issues he had with the man’s entire work ethic and approach.
It had been cathartic, but when he was done and finally took in the expressions of the two men sitting with him, Freddie realized he probably should have at least discussed it with George beforehand.
The problem was Freddie hadn’t planned on doing it. The idea never even crossed his mind. He had been too consumed with dissecting what Anne had told him, how she had torn down every excuse he’d made for himself in recent years until he was left with only the stark truth.
You left to forge your own path but still ended up where you never wanted to be.
After everything, he had assumed that she saw through his bravado, past all the posturing, the expensive suits and fancy furniture.
That she could see the person he was under everything.
And maybe she had, but the view left her unimpressed.
Worse, she knew who he had been and could track the change.
He might be able to ignore the compromises he had made along the way, but she never would.
Unfortunately, he had chosen a shit time to realize it.
Freddie sighed, running a hand through his hair as he watched Midtown fly by through the window. Then he turned to the man seated beside him. “George…”
He knew he had to cobble together an apology, say something to quell his friend’s inevitable anger, because Christ, it was warranted.
But George shot him a glare before he could continue. “Don’t.”
“Come on. I had no right—”
“Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I should have talked to you first.”
“You did.”
Freddie paused, eyes narrowing in confusion.
George smiled. “Freddie. Do you remember our first business meeting? You walked into my office in a T-shirt and cargo pants and called me ‘bro.’ ”
Freddie smiled. He hadn’t thought about that day in a while. When he had arrived at the offices of Knightley Capital, George had looked at him like he was there to deliver his lunch.
“I had barely said hello before you made it clear that you didn’t care about profits, you just wanted to make sure the technology was open-source and available to everyone.
You were there to make a difference,” George said.
“I admired that in you. That’s why I invested in Wentworth Hydroponics.
It’s why I introduced you to Will when you decided to sell.
No matter how much this business tried to bend your moral compass, you didn’t let it. Don’t start now.”
“I don’t know. I think that ship already sailed when I bought my first suit.”
George scoffed. “Freddie, you just called their CEO a neocon. You’re fine.”
Freddie laughed, punctuating it with a sigh as he leaned back in the leather seat. “What the hell am I doing?”
“Depends. What do you want to do?” George asked.
The question was so big, so cumbersome, that for a long moment all Freddie could do was stare out his window, letting every possibility run through his brain. He wanted Anne back. He wanted to build a life she would be proud to share with him.
And then his brain returned to the very thing he had said to Mark just a few minutes before.
“Leave the planet a better place than we found it,” he said. Then he turned and gave George a wry grin. “Is that lame?”
His friend shrugged one shoulder. “Only if you don’t actually do it.”
“Great. Got any ideas?”
“I don’t know, Freddie,” George said with a sigh. “You were going to start a nonprofit back in college, right? Do that.”
Huh. The idea landed in Freddie’s brain like a bomb, detonating and clearing out all the cobwebs.
“That’s not a bad idea.”