Maybe I was happier when the company was smaller and I could obsess over minutiae, when I didn’t have quite so many plates spinning and could focus on the details, develop tunnel vision about an idea until it came to fruition. But I didn’t want to walk away. What would I even do if I left Astro?
“I’d be happier if the press and investors and the board just left me alone.”
“But according to Madison, that’s like saying you want to be a plumber as long as you don’t have to work with pipes or water.” He waved the screwdriver in the air in frustration. “Dealing with the press, investors, and the board is the job. You just don’t like the job.” Jacob collapsed on the sofa as if he were completely exhausted with me.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, a thousand thoughts competing for my attention. I’d only considered getting over this particular hump with the board and the press. I’d assumed the profile would come out and people would realize what a bloody good job I was doing and leave me alone.
Perhaps life wasn’t that simple.
“So you’re saying I don’t want to be CEO of Astro.” It wasn’t a question. I’d heard him.
Finally.
If the job was a constant fight to prove myself, hadn’t I done that already? If building the company wasn’t enough, nothing else was going to convince my naysayers. I might not be able to create another Astro, but maybe there was something else out there for me. I’d fought my entire life for success, to make up for a decision at university that cost me my destined future. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life trying to prove anything to a bunch of strangers I didn’t care about. It wasn’t a fight I wanted to be in.
“Actually, Madison said it. But I agree with her.”
“Yeah, well Madison’s article means I probably don’t get a choice in the matter. The board is probably going to fire me.”
“So resign,” Jacob said, heaving himself off the sofa. “I’m a doctor, not a shelf-putter-upper.” He abandoned his tools on the floor. “Shall we get a beer?”
I shrugged and followed him out of the office and across the lawn.
Resign? Just like that? I felt more than a little stupid that I’d only just realized what I wanted to do at Astro and what I was required to do were two different things. And if I didn’t want the job I was in, what else was there to do but resign?
Jacob was right, which meant Madison had been right.
I’d come to Norfolk to escape. To have a meal with my parents and forget about what was happening in London. I’d definitely not been expecting my brother to change my mind about what I wanted in my career and who I wanted in my life. Now that my eyes had been opened, I had work to do. It was time to close the book on one chapter of my life, and hopefully turn the page on another.
Twenty-Nine
Nathan
My parents’ kitchen table was where I came when I needed to escape, or when I had sins to confess. By the time I got there today, I no longer needed to escape, and someone else’s sins needed confessing.
“It’s lovely to see you, darling,” my mother said. “And to have Jacob here at the same time is wonderful even if it is a little unexpected.” Mum shot me a look that said she knew this was more than a casual visit. “Will you help me with these strawberries? I think they’ll be the last of the season.” She handed me a wet colander of berries and I knocked it against the sink to get off the excess water, found a tea towel and a knife, and went to work.
“Jacob,” she called out at the banging in the hallway. “I need some cheese grated.” Without question or complaint, Jacob came in the kitchen and washed his hands. “Oh, I do so love having you boys back. Sometimes I think we should come back to London. Maybe we will if you start having babies.”
“Mum,” Jacob groaned. “Don’t start on that again.”
Babies. A family of my own. I’d always been so sure that those things had never been in my future. But now? Nothing about my future was certain. I was about to resign from Astro and my future was a blank sheet of paper.
“I have some news,” I said. Was I ready to say this out loud?
“Oh, darling?” my mother said as she stuck her head in the fridge.
“I’m going to resign from Astro,” I said.
“What do you mean resign?” she asked as she shut the fridge door and turned to face me. “I thought it was your company?”
“Not anymore,” I replied. That was the problem. When it was mine, I had no one to answer to except myself. “Since we went public, the shareholders own it. The board is in control.”