Chapter 26
The snow was falling heavily by the time Freddie emerged from the subway at First Avenue.
The storm wasn’t supposed to get bad until after midnight, but there was already a thin layer of white across the city, muting the sounds and smells as Freddie passed shop after shop, each decorated with garlands and Christmas lights.
He couldn’t slow down to appreciate it, though—he had to stay in motion or the anxiety might eat him alive.
The Eufloria launch party was set to start at eight o’clock, and if the New York City Transit system functioned normally during bad weather, he would have arrived early.
Unfortunately, the subway was delayed even more than usual, so even though he had left Queens with time to spare, he was now forty minutes late.
He lengthened his gait, just making the light to cross the avenue, and cursed under his breath.
He had spent last night at his parents’ house, staying up until sunrise, working out what was likely the first detail-oriented plan he had made in his entire life.
Even more surprising was that he wanted to.
With all that corporate structure out of the way, he felt like he was finally getting back to the person he used to be, and the dream he used to have.
Of course, he would be the first to admit that he was new to this and that some of the details were still, for want of a better term, lacking. But the bones were there and for a first draft of a life plan, he thought it was pretty good.
Establish a sustainable farming nonprofit
Apologize to Anne for storming out of her apartment like an asshole and put the work into rebuilding our relationship
For the first time in years, Freddie felt like himself.
It wasn’t just the jeans he was wearing now, or the threadbare wool sweater that had been his favorite since high school.
He was finally moving in the direction he had always thought he would, high on the idea that he knew where he was going and choosing it for himself.
He could hear the party even before he turned the corner and found the shopfront glowing on the corner of Twelfth Street.
There was a small crowd milling around the sidewalk outside, and the muffled sound of music and conversation wafted out every time the door opened to let another person in.
He stopped before walking inside, letting his gaze wander up.
Eufloria
The wooden sign above was fashioned out of a long, curled piece of wood and backlit against the building’s brick exterior.
Pride swelled in his chest for a moment.
While he had been wallowing in his own shit, he hadn’t stopped to notice how his sister and Anne were moving mountains.
In just over a month they had taken the empty storefront and made something truly special—a bright, vital thing that was brimming with life, right in the middle of the East Village.
He stopped on the sidewalk, staring through the large front windows.
The inside was brimming with people, so it was hard to see anything other than a cluster of bodies and the wall of flora rising up on the far side of the room, an explosion of greens and pinks and yellows against the rough brick.
Yes, the wall was almost made entirely of plant life, so much so that Freddie’s gaze stayed locked on it, studying how they might be attached or…
“It’s impressive.”
The voice came from beside him. He had been so entranced by the view that he hadn’t noticed the woman who had approached and was now standing just a foot or so away. He turned to her, and in the darkness it took a second for him to recognize her face, for the details to snap into place.
It was Bianca Russell.
“Anne tells me it’s your sister’s store,” she said, nodding to the window.
“It is,” he said, his tone flat.
“And that she’s decided to come on board as partner.”
He couldn’t help his wry smile as his eyes went back to the window. “Did she now?”
Bianca nodded. “I think the two of them have something really special here.”
“So do I,” he said.
Silence swallowed them up then. The sounds of the city were alive on the corner of Avenue A, but the heavy flakes dulled them. In that moment, it almost felt like the world had stopped, waiting for what would come next.
He turned slightly to look down at her. She was small like Anne, with the same blue eyes, but hers still had that hard edge he remembered from all those years ago.
“You never liked me very much, did you?” he asked.
“I never knew you, Frederick,” she replied.
“Right.” He nodded. “But that never stopped you from sharing your thoughts about our relationship, did it?”
A moment passed as she seemed to think about it, then she turned to meet his eyes. “Do you know how I met Anne’s father, Walter?”
Freddie didn’t reply. He was worried about what he might say, so he just turned back to the window.
“I was a junior at Barnard,” Bianca said, letting her gaze slide back to the shop window.
“One night my friends and I went out downtown and I met this guy. He was a film student. Tall, so good-looking… he even played in a band. For a girl who grew up in Connecticut and was majoring in prelaw, he was like lightning in a bottle.” She paused for a moment, like she was pondering the memory.
“I believed him when he said he would make documentaries that changed the world, so when I graduated and it was time to apply to law school, I chose to help him start his own production company instead. I didn’t even like production, but I did it because it was his dream, and I loved him.
“We got married. Had Anne. The company slowly changed. There was more money in television, so that’s what he focused on. We grew apart. And when the stress finally became too much, I left.”
Freddie’s jaw tightened. “Anne told me.”
“I’m sure she did. But she doesn’t know that I never dreamed of being a wife. Definitely not a mother. Before meeting Walt, all I wanted was to be a lawyer. But I gave that up for him, and I can never get it back.”
Freddie stilled.
“I’m sorry that I never made an effort to know you, Frederick,” Bianca said, turning to meet his gaze again.
“Anne was desperately in love with you, so I should have. But when she told me about you, your plans and your dreams… it all sounded eerily similar. I knew how that story would end. And I didn’t want my daughter prioritizing your future over her own. ”
“So you told her to break up with me?”
Bianca laughed, but it faded when she saw his grim expression. “Oh, I see. You never figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
Bianca stared up at him as if she was seeing him from a different perspective.
“She didn’t follow my advice to be selfish, Frederick.
She broke up with you so you could be. She did it to make sure you went to Argentina, so you wouldn’t have to compromise anything.
And, from what I’ve heard, you should be thanking her for it. ”
His brow knitted together as some old puzzle piece began to slide into place in his mind. “But what about Columbia?”
“I encouraged her to apply,” Bianca replied. “And I told her that if you really loved her, you would stay. But she made sure you never had to make that choice.”
He wanted to argue with her, dismantle what she was saying piece by piece.
But just as quickly, he realized that he couldn’t.
Because he would have stayed. He would have given up his position in the Buenos Aires program, missed out on every opportunity over the past eight years, if Anne hadn’t ended things. Anne had saved him from himself.
That truth landed like a lead weight in his gut.
Another moment passed, then Bianca turned to face him fully. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like you, Frederick. I just wanted what’s best for my daughter. And she only wanted what was best for you. So now the question is: What do you want?”
He let out a long breath. “Her.”
Bianca nodded. “Good. Then don’t fuck it up.”
Then she turned and started down the sidewalk. He watched her go, letting the epiphany rattle through him again.
Everything he had accomplished since college—his work in Argentina, his company, his professional success—was all thanks to Anne.
She’d given up their shared future so he could have one of his own.
It seemed so obvious now, and the fact that he hadn’t realized it back then triggered an urgency that bordered on panic. He turned back to the shop.
He had to go inside and find Anne.
But just as the thought entered his mind, there she was, standing in the center of the crowd inside. He could see her through the tall window.
She was talking to a small group and hadn’t seen him standing just outside, so Freddie let himself take in every detail.
Her blond hair pulled up in a ponytail that highlighted the long slope of her neck.
The green dress that played off the color of the vines and flowers around her, making her skin glow and her blue eyes vibrant.
She had always claimed not to enjoy parties, but right now she looked so relaxed, like this was her natural state whether she knew it or not.
Completely unaware that maybe the only thing that had been missing that entire time was a party celebrating her.
Someone must have called to her from the other side of the shop, because she craned her neck to look, then turned back to the people she had been standing with, smiling as she offered what he could only assume were apologies as she disappeared back into the crowd.
He didn’t move, though.
How could he go in there right now? Yes, he needed to talk to her, apologize and work out all the shit he should have eight years ago, but tonight wasn’t about him.
This was her night, one she had worked her ass off to make happen.
No matter what he said, if he went in there, it would quickly be about him, them, a recentering of the party’s focus that seemed so unfair he couldn’t even consider it.
But he also couldn’t leave without letting her know how he felt, that he was here and, from now on, he wasn’t going anywhere.
That’s when he felt his dad’s small notebook in the pocket of his coat. He had slipped it in there when he’d left his parents’ house, so he could continue jotting down his thoughts about the nonprofit on the train home. But now it needed to serve a different purpose.
He pulled it out and began writing. The snow was coming down more heavily now, but he didn’t care.
He bowed his body over the page and scribbled line after line, then tore out the sheet.
He wasn’t sure he would remember how to do it—he hadn’t even considered it in eight years—but before he could recall the steps, his fingers did the work, carefully folding the small sheet into a perfect paper triangle.
He held it tight in the palm of his hand, then pulled out his phone to text his sister.
FREDDIE
Hey. Can you come outside? I need you to do me a favor.