23.
Crystal
Since the Automotive Showcase, things around the office have shifted gears. We’re past strictly problem solving now, and we’re strategizing for the next phase: production. Mason and Dillon met with us last week, and we’ve been inundated with lists of tasks to get through as we prepare for manufacturing. SHN is helping us see the leaves in the forest we’ve been immersed in.
Meanwhile, Justin and Rhys are traveling to different parts of the country with Dillon, checking out factory options. The initial money SHN offered will go to cover the facilities. The cash we received after the Showcase from manufacturers eager to secure the right to buy our batteries will go toward materials, and companies will be able to buy at a discount when production gets up and running and they finalize their orders. Best of all, the cash infusion from the Automotive Showcase triggered a significant payout to all of us, and we’re now collecting monster salaries—even me!
Mason put me in touch with Lori Neilson, a real estate agent, and strongly suggested that we each invest in something. It thrills me to think of Justin and I finally having our own place, not just somewhere to shove our stuff, but an investment, a stake in the ground.
The guys on the team all agreed, and since there are fewer demands day to day in the office now, I’ve been put in charge of this task for them. I’ll look through the different options on the market and whittle it down to two or three suggestions they can each view in an afternoon and make a decision. The responsibility here both thrills and terrifies me. And it’s led to a lot of conversations I never imagined having with these men.
“Crystal,” Theo informs me one afternoon when we all happen to be in the office together, “I want something that touches the sky, a space in a high rise where the pulse of the city strums beneath me.” His hands slice through the air, mimicking the sharp lines of the buildings he covets.
Austin leans back in his chair. “Not me,” he declares. “I’m thinking charm, you know? A gingerbread house, something quaint and intricate.”
Rhys nods as he takes in their requests. “I’d like a view of the Golden Gate and the ability to enjoy the waterfront. Maybe a small yard for a dog.”
“Got it,” I reply, already cataloging their wishes. When I look over, Justin gives me a supportive smile; he’s always had faith in my ability to deliver.
Lately, we’ve spent our evenings dreaming of homes, of places that could be ours, where the echoes of our footsteps would tell a story. Justin is pretty easy going. He’d like a view, but he’s not even particular about that. He just wants me with him, and he’s insisting on buying our house.
With so many options suddenly available, it’s easy to get carried away. But right now, I need to focus on translating their visions into tangible addresses.
“Let’s do this,” Lori says with an assertive nod when we finally find a time to get together. I’ve shared everyone’s wish lists with her, and she’s armed with listings and a determination that matches my own. We spend days touring San Francisco, from the polished floors of penthouses to the creaky steps of historical havens. We pore over Victorian trims and analyze green space and water access. And then together, over coffee-stained maps and endless property specs, we curate a list—three potential winners for each guy, each choice a reflection of their personalities.
Then, one by one, I send them off with Lori on their own.
“Which one’s speaking to you?” I ask each of them after their tours, my heart racing with anticipation. I’m nervous they won’t like my choices, but in the end, they all found something that fits. Theo put an offer on a place in a high rise in the financial district, where all the action is. Austin ended up choosing one of San Francisco’s most famous Victorian homes on Alamo Square Park. It has a stunning bridge-to-bridge view and also looks out on downtown San Francisco. Rhys picked out a home at the San Francisco Marina, right off the docks and with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Justin is still perusing his choices, but if he makes a decision soon, we’ll all be homeowners in the next month or so.
Then finally, one afternoon I stand on the sidewalk of Lyon Street, a crisp San Francisco breeze ruffling the papers in my hand. I steal another glance over at the smallest house on Billionaires’ Row. Just over three thousand square feet, it’s more than enough for us and nestled in the nicest neighborhood in the city. It’s perfect.
Justin saunters up beside me, hands in the pockets of his jeans, an easy smile on his face. “So, this is it, huh? The last one on my list?”
“Yep, the very last,” I reply, struggling to keep my voice neutral, not wanting to sway him with my own bias.
He surveys the property, his gaze thoughtful. “You’ve got a good eye, Crystal. But you know I’m not much for picking houses.”
“Still, I want this to be your decision too.” My insistence surprises even me. All three houses we’ve seen hold a charm that’s undeniable, but my heart clings to this one. “I love them all, Justin. Choose the one that seems right.”
“Even if it’s this one?” He nudges me gently with his elbow, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Especially if it’s this one.”
Silence sits between us like a welcome friend as we take in the quiet prestige of the neighborhood. Then he nods, decisively, a choice made without fanfare. “Let’s do it, then. This one. It feels like…us.”
A surge of joy floods through me, and I laugh, a sound of relief, of celebration. “Really?” I ask, needing to hear it again.
“Really,” he confirms.
We step closer to the house, and I’m already imagining it as our future home. This seems like stepping into a new chapter. The plans we’ll make here, the life we’ll build—everything seems possible.
“Then let’s make an offer,” I say, the words a vow, a promise of beginnings.
“Let’s make an offer,” he echoes, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. And just like that, we’re no longer just looking at a house. We’re envisioning a home.
The plush leather of Dr. McKay’s couch envelops me, a stark contrast to the clinical coolness of her office. The hum of San Francisco fades beyond these walls, leaving room for the truths I’ve come to share. My fingers trace the smooth material, seeking solace before I confide in her.
“Dr. McKay,” I begin, swallowing the lump of apprehension lodged in my throat. She’s going to bug me about talking to Justin, and I just don’t have the energy today.
“Did you get the house?” she asks.
I relax into my seat and nod. “We did. Well, we’re in escrow, but they accepted our offer.”
“That’s wonderful news. How are you feeling about it?”
“I’m excited. Justin is putting down the money, but he wants to put me on the title. He says he wants it to be our place. Though I don’t know how we’re going to fill it. We don’t even have a bed.”
“Have you talked to Justin about your bipolar disorder?”
“Well, uh, I tried, but we’ve been so caught up in getting the business going and now the house…”
She leans forward slightly, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that beckons honesty. “Why is it that you’re still holding back from telling him?”
I take a deep breath, and the air struggles against the tightness in my chest. “It feels like a shadow would scare him away.”
“Even though he’s moving forward with plans for you to live together?” Dr. McKay looks at me a moment and then nods with an understanding that seems to reach beyond her professional demeanor. “Your mother said something to you about this, didn’t she?” Her voice is a gentle nudge, urging me toward reflection.
“Nothing you haven’t said to me… If he isn’t interested in me because of my disorder, then he doesn’t truly love me.”
“Your mother is a wise woman,” Dr. McKay says, her tone soft yet firm. “You must trust that Justin’s feelings for you are based on who you are, not on the challenges you’ve helped him navigate.”
I nod. “I suppose that’s true, but the challenges keep coming, so it’s hard to totally separate the two.”
“Can you say more about that?” she asks.
“We’re living in undisclosed places to stay out of the media spotlight until we close on our new homes,” I explain. “Justin and I are staying at Mason and Caroline Sullivans’ place. Mason’s company is EnergiFusion’s investor. It’s temporary, but privacy has become precious.”
“And the others?” she probes.
“Austin, Theo, and Rhys are just up the street at one of the Sullivans’ friend’s guest house. Having secure accommodations has been crucial with all the attention we’re receiving. And no one has closed on their new property just yet.”
“Security is important,” she agrees. “Especially now, when so much is changing for you all.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “You wouldn’t believe the attention they’re getting now. The female population has certainly taken notice.”
“Oh?” Dr. McKay prompts.
“Justin’s had four marriage proposals this week. And an up-and-coming rock star sent her people to set up a date with him,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, amused.
“How does that make you feel?” she asks.
I hesitate for a moment, my smile fading. “It bothers me, to be honest. More than I thought it would.”
“Understandable.” She nods, encouraging me to continue.
With a deep breath, I lean back. “SHN’s PR team—they’ve been amazing. We’re everywhere in the financial press. Austin, Rhys, Theo, and Justin are these media darlings now.” I pause, gathering the strands of my thoughts. “There’s a feature on them in Vanity Fair.”
“Sounds impressive.”
“It is, but…” I fidget with the hem of my sweater, betraying my inner turmoil. “We decided to keep my relationship with Justin out of the spotlight. To keep my profile low, you know?”
“Protection and privacy can be valuable,” she acknowledges.
“Right, but now, he’s this eligible bachelor in the public eye. It’s…it’s getting to me.”
She doesn’t rush to fill the silence that follows, allowing the complexity of my emotions to unfurl in the quiet space between us. There’s a part of me that knows it was the right decision at the time, but another part—the part that’s sitting here now—feels exposed and uneasy about where I fit into Justin’s new, glossy narrative.
I tap my foot nervously on the plush carpet.
“Your financial situation,” she begins, “how has it changed with the company’s success?”
The question pulls me from my reverie, snapping the world back into focus. “It’s…good. Really good. I got a raise—a six-figure raise.” The words are too good to be true, even as they spill from my lips, a stark contrast to the uncertainties swirling inside me.
“Congratulations, Crystal. That’s quite significant.” Her smile is genuine, but her eyes probe deeper. “Have you thought about what you want to do with this newfound financial independence? Perhaps move out on your own instead of moving in with Justin?”
My gaze drops to my hands, knotted together in my lap. I have thought about it countless times, but there’s a tug-of-war within me. “Part of me wants my own space,” I confess, the truth tasting bittersweet. “But another part wants to experience more alone time with Justin, to keep things as they are for as long as possible. And I do like that he wants me there with him.”
“Change can be daunting,” Dr. McKay acknowledges, leaning forward slightly. “But holding on to someone isn’t just about proximity; it’s also about connection and honesty.”
Her words send shivers down my spine. Honesty—the thing that seems most vulnerable to offer, especially when it means exposing the rawest parts of myself.
“Justin needs to know all of you, Crystal. The only way to truly hold on to him—or anyone—is by being authentic and open. I suspect you won’t feel fully secure in your relationship until you tell him about your bipolar disorder.”
My throat tightens, and I nod. I know she’s right. The fear of losing him battles against the need for him to love all of me, not just the parts I’ve polished for public viewing. “I know I need to. It just never seems like the right time. I’m so afraid…”
“Being honest doesn’t guarantee an outcome,” she continues, her voice a grounding force. “But it does give you both a chance at something real, something lasting. And whatever his response, you’ll know it’s based on the full picture of who you are.”
This is nothing new, of course, but I find it hits me a little differently today, and I’m still pondering it as I walk back to the office. I fill my lungs with air before releasing it slowly, as if I could also expel the tangled fears binding me. Dr. McKay’s words are a guide through the darkness of my apprehensions. If I want to hold on to Justin, to us, it won’t be through silence or half-truths. It will be through the courage to show him the real me.
As I step back into the EnergiFusion office, the contrast between Dr. McKay’s calm sanctuary to this vibrant hub of activity is like stepping onto a moving train. The guys are sprawled across various couches and beanbags, interacting with the casual ease of people who’ve ridden a rollercoaster together and come out laughing on the other side.
“Hey, Crystal,” Mason calls. “You’re just in time for the great debate.”
“Headquarters,” Austin announces, not looking up from his tablet. “San Francisco versus…everywhere else.”
“SHN gave us the boot,” Theo adds, his tone light but his eyes serious. “Says it’s time we left the nest.”
“More like they need the space for fresh blood,” Justin quips, tossing a crumpled paper ball at Theo, who bats it away.
“Seriously, though,” Rhys says. “We’ve all agreed—headquarters here, in San Francisco. You did wonders with the housing, Crystal. We’re hoping you’ll wave your magic wand again for our office space. Think you can find us something with a decent lab and space for a production line?”
I nod, already mentally cataloging agents I know and spaces that might fit the bill. “Of course. I’ll start reaching out first thing tomorrow.”
“Good, because we need somewhere that screams ‘innovation’,” Austin pipes up, finally tearing his gaze from the screen to offer me an appreciative smile.
“About production, though…” Justin starts, and unease settles over the group. “We’ve got options. Utah’s got the salt, but the Bay Area’s got…well, everything else. And the big five auto manufacturers are in Detroit.”
“Costs are higher here,” Rhys points out. “But the back-and-forth would be a killer if we set up shop in Utah. And I’m not crazy about Michigan winters.”
“Let’s not forget talent acquisition,” Theo interjects. “The Bay Area draws a certain crowd, one that can fuel our growth.”
“Right. So, we should stay local,” Theo summarizes.
“Local, it is then,” I say, looking around for confirmation. “I’ll include potential production spaces in my search. Proximity will be key.”
“Crystal’s got it under control,” Justin says, smiling at me with a confidence I wish I could bottle and drink before each daunting task. His faith in me… It’s more than just reassuring. It’s a lifeline. I hear Dr. McKay’s voice in my head. He deserves to know.
I jot down bullet points in my notebook, and the guys’ voices blend into the background as I prepare for the task at hand—scouting locations for both our new headquarters and production facilities. Yet my mind continues to return to my session with Dr. McKay. Be honest. Be direct. Changes need to happen.
“Hey, Crystal, you with us?” Theo’s voice cuts through my concentration, and I lift my head to meet his questioning gaze.
“Absolutely,” I reply, forcing myself back into the moment. “Just making sure I’ve got all the details right.”
“Great because we’re counting on you.” Austin gives me an encouraging grin, but Rhys who narrows his eyes thoughtfully, as if sensing there’s more to my distraction than the task at hand.