Addicted After All(188)
But Ryke draws back, his hand firmly on my shoulder as he says, “It’s a long process, but it’s f*cking happening. Sometime after your wedding, I’m thinking.” His lips lift in a fraction of a smile. “When I made this choice, it felt f*cking right. So I’m doing it.”
I can’t talk him out of it, he’s saying. Not that I can talk Ryke out of anything. “Should I buy board games? Operation?” I flash a wry smile.
He messes my hair with a full-blown grin, reminding me that I’m the little brother again.
And then the elevator stops. The doors slide open, and our smiles fade. Reality just a foot away. The meeting room down the hall, in sight.
“I’m right behind you,” Ryke tells me.
I take the first step onto the seventy-fifth floor of Hale Co.
This is it.
{ 69 }
LOREN HALE
Ryke and I sit on either end of the long table, seven board members on one side, seven on the other. While passing around sandwiches and coffee, they’ve been going over Hale Co. financial reports, business relations, without mention of the CEO title yet.
They’ve finally reached the end of their laundry list of topics. Focusing on the one that’s haunting me.
Daniel Perth rises from his seat and buttons his suit. “We appreciate how much work you’ve both put in towards heading this company.” He looks to Ryke. “As you’ve come to respect us, so have we to you. You’re multilingual, quick to understand our approaches, and very receptive to new ideas. Your father boasted about you. He said you were too smart for your own good.”
The board members collectively chuckle. Daniel smiles, “That’s a decent compliment from Jonathan Hale. He doesn’t give many.”
Ryke stays quiet, but his eyes flicker to me more than once. We’re far away from each other, separated by the length of the long wooden table.
My muscles bind the longer I sit here without answers. God, I want this. For so many reasons. My foot jostles, and I rub my lips. Waiting.
Then Daniel turns to me. “When we first met you, we weren’t sure if you’d want to be involved with this company. Through your initiative, you’ve proven to us that you do.” He pauses. “You’re a lot like your father, but you’re not him.”
I clench my teeth, and I can feel my jaw sharpening. Right. I break eye contact, staring out at the floor-length window. The one that overlooks Philadelphia on a muggy afternoon. In the silence, I say, “What were you expecting exactly?”
“Let’s see,” Daniel says, “the son of Jonathan Hale: what he’d call a little shit. What Jonathan is. Someone who’d throw a bottle of wine at a wall, toss papers around, yell in an employee’s face if the job didn’t go as planned. Degrade a person so he’d feel better.”
I frown and meet his face again.
“Don’t look so shocked. We know the terrible parts of your father. We’ve been around him long enough. And we’re all more than impressed to see that you didn’t inherit his habits.”
I did though. I inherited all of those things.
I stare dazedly at the table. My therapist told me something once.
He said, “Sometimes the person we think we’ll become is the person we already are, and the person we truly become is the person we least expect.”
I’d been terrified of becoming my father for years. It’s why I never wanted to take Hale Co. It’s why I pulled against everything he threw at me.
And all that time, I was already him.
But I’m not my father anymore. I’ve become a better version of the person I once was. Someone I can stand to be around, someone I can live with.
Yeah. It took long enough. “Have you decided then?” I ask Daniel.
“We’ve voted, but ultimately, we realized that the decision should be left with you two. We want someone who truly wants to run this company. If that’s both of you, then we’ll be damn happy to have the Hale brothers as the face of Hale Co.”
Hale brothers. Ryke’s jaw hardens. He considers himself a Meadows, not a Hale.
“You want us to be CEOs together?” I ask.
“Only if that’s what you want,” he emphasizes.
I lock eyes with Ryke, and I lean forward, cupping my hands on the table. I’d do this with him, if he’s up to it. But I still doubt he’d enjoy this life. I doubt he even wants it.