Chapter 39
thirty-nine
. . .
Ceci
Heidi glares at me from across the conference table as Hailey gives a report on the spring gala coming up in two weeks. Why Heidi is paying more attention to me than the updates, I’m uncertain, but at least I know why she’s pissed at me this time.
Aidan.
Hailey is engaged to a player, so there’s no reason I would have to leave the board aside from Heidi’s petty dislike of me. She hasn’t liked me from day one, and nothing I do will make her change her mind.
I’m not certain if Colt is ready to disclose his and Robby’s… whatever they are. Dating, fooling around, a committed relationship, who knows. Coming out is a big deal. If he’s not ready, I’m hardly about to push him. It all has to happen in his own time.
The meeting wraps up late—as always—and this time, I don’t linger. Aidan headed home for his pregame nap, and I don’t want to interrupt him or, worse, distract him. He needs to get in the zone.
Instead, I head down to my office. Bex is behind her desk, so focused on her screen she doesn’t even look up when I walk in. She’s wearing a silky blouse and a pencil skirt, her ever-present crimson lipstick perfectly applied.
I have to admit, I’m so fucking bored by the helmet project.
My part, coding the sensors, is basically done.
Sure, I can refine them more and more, but I don’t want to mess up a good thing.
Every time I introduce new code, there’s a risk of corrupting what’s already there.
Now we have to analyze the data. I have a few scripts to help her, but most of it, Bex has to do herself.
With a tired yawn, I sit at my desk, plug my computer into the dock, and stare unseeingly at my email. I have over eight hundred unread messages in my inbox, and the number keeps ticking higher and higher.
I don’t want to do this.
But sometimes we have to do hard things, even when we don’t want to.
So I scroll to the bottom, all the way to the first unread email. A click of the mouse, and the message opens. It’s from the board of Colt’s company, reminding us of the meeting next week.
Okay. I can do this. I open my calendar and pencil in the date, then archive the message.
See? Easy peasy. Why did I put this off for so fucking long?
Onto the next email. I read through each one, archiving what I can, taking action or replying where needed, and fleshing out my to-do list with tasks that will take longer than a few moments.
At some point in the afternoon, a mug of tea appears by my hand. I only notice because when I go to take a drink, it’s there, and it’s hot.
I tear my attention away from my computer screen. Bex is nowhere to be found, her purse and work bag on her chair like she’s getting ready to leave.
As if I’ve summoned her, she strides into the office. “Get up,” she demands.
“What did I do?” Bewildered, I gape at her.
She giggles, coming to stand in front of my desk. “Get up,” she repeats, a soft smile on her crimson-painted lips. “So I can give you a hug. You’ve been in the zone for the last few hours.”
Oh.
I stand and stretch, every vertebra in my back cracking and popping. My heavy exhale is pure relief.
“Sorry I’ve been so distant lately.”
Bex grins. “You’ve got a lot going on. How’s Aidan?”
“He’s good. I, uh…”
She waits expectantly.
“I think I have a new project idea.”
She’s smart enough to know what I’m not saying, and her face falls. “You want to leave the helmet project?”
“No. Not yet, at least,” I hurry to add. “I’m just… bored. The way you felt last year with the concussion-spotting job is how I’m feeling now. I don’t know if it’s ennui or if it’s something bigger. So I’m working on figuring that out.”
“Ennui is dangerous,” she says seriously, her lips twitching. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” The word comes immediately, harsh and unyielding.
She flinches, then swallows, like she’s trying to hide it.
“Actually… yes,” I amend. “But not yet. I’ve still got some soul searching to do.”
“Okay, but when you’re ready?”
“I’ll come to you, I promise.”
She gives me a tremulous smile. “I just want you to be happy, babe.”
“That’s what I want too.”
Work has been my primary source of personal fulfillment for the last twenty-plus years. It’s what drives me. Makes me get up in the morning—or the middle of the night.
When I built my first company, I had a purpose.
Then I sold it and was cast adrift. I spent my time and money on personal improvement.
Losing the weight I had gained when I self-medicated with sugar and caffeine before I knew about the ADHD and how to self-regulate effectively.
I took the time to get healthy, both physically and mentally.
It took lots and lots and lots of therapy.
I went on wellness retreats; I had spa dates with myself and pampered myself.
And I was fucking bored.
Then Colt asked me to be on the board of his company, and I found something to occupy my time again. Then I joined the Grizzlies Foundation, and I have a purpose again. Then I started this helmet project with Bex, and I’m finally feeling useful again.
I don’t want to give it up. I shouldn’t have to give it up.
But I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this. Untethered, caught between what I want to do and what actually fulfills me.
Being on the board of directors doesn’t bring me joy. Overseeing the direction of a nonprofit doesn’t make me excited about the mission. And participating in endless meetings where nothing ever seems to get accomplished doesn’t make me happy.
Work makes me happy.
At the same time, I don’t necessarily want to build another company. The spark of an idea I had the other night was just that—a spark. It’s not a full-fledged project yet.
But it could be.
Deep in my heart, I know this is a symptom of the ADHD, ping-ponging me all around the place. It’s a manifestation of the restlessness deep within me that never seems to settle. Never seems to be soothed.
Being aware of it, putting a name to it, helps me not feel so much shame. A little bit, sure. Not a lot.
“I’m not making any decisions,” I finally tell Bex. “I’m just… thinking. Considering my options.”
She inhales sharply. “Okay. But when you’re ready, you’ll let me know?”
“You’ll be the first one I tell.”
“No I won’t.”
I cock my head. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll tell Aidan first.” She says this matter-of-factly, like there’s nobody else in the world I could possibly talk to.
Then again… even when he was Wish, before he was my partner, I told him everything. I worked with him to parse my thoughts and articulate them to everyone else.
“He’s your person,” Bex says. “He should be the one you talk to first. Especially about a life-altering decision.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.
“Maybe this is why I got divorced,” I mutter.
She snorts. “Hey, it’s called personal growth. Now that you know about it, you can do better. Communicate more.”
“I’ll sure as hell fucking try.”
“What do you think he’ll say?”
I don’t hesitate.
“He wants me to be happy.”
She squeezes my arm. “Then that’s what you’ll do. Whatever will make you happy.”
I just wish I knew what that was.