And now Anderson Media, the career that Wade worked so hard on creating—his biggest dream was to hand it down to the boys.
Now I’m losing it . . . I’m losing that too.
I exhale heavily as I go back to my laptop.
Wade . . . help me.
I’m tired. This week has been a never-ending roll of meetings with the board. We are in the final stages of staying afloat, and I don’t know what to do. I look over to Tristan as he drives. “Where are we going?” I ask.
He smiles over at me like the cat that got the cream. He picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips. “I have a surprise for you.”
The boys chatter in the back seat among themselves, and I try to calm my nerves. I’m not in the mood for surprises. I’m so anxious that I’m nearly suffocating.
If something drastic doesn’t happen, if I don’t get a big injection of funds from somewhere, the writing is on the wall—the liquidators will be moving in within the next six to eight weeks and taking my company from me. I will be forced into bankruptcy. The company insolvent.
I want to talk to Tristan about it, but I don’t want him to worry or feel that he has to put the money in. I already declined the Ferrara offer; now my only other option is to sell to Miles Media, but then I know I’ll hold that grudge against Tristan forever. He will always be the man who took Wade’s dream from us, and I really don’t want it to affect our relationship. Because I know if it does come to that . . . it will.
How could it not?
I think back to how hard Wade worked so that he would have something to hand down to his sons. And in the five and a half years since his death, I have effectively killed everything he worked for.
I’m sick to my stomach.
Tristan chats and laughs with the boys, carefree as he drives, and an unwelcome jealousy fills me. He has no idea what it’s like to struggle.
He’s never had to do it.
I know he works so hard and deserves everything he has, but it’s . . . I can’t even articulate what it is I’m feeling . . . resentment, maybe?
I don’t know why I’m feeling like this now, but with the oncoming demise of Anderson Media, it’s suddenly eating at me.
Maybe I’m just hormonal, or maybe it’s because of the way we met.
From day one I have always known that Wade’s company has been on Miles Media’s acquisitions list. They wanted it, made no secret of it.
It’s how we met.
I pushed it out of my mind for so long . . . but now that it’s impending, it’s all I can think about. Everything Wade wanted is coming to an end, and I just don’t know how to stop it.
We pull up on the street in front of a grand house, and Tristan smiles over at me.
“What’s this?” I ask flatly.
A man gets out of the car in front of us and smiles broadly.
Tristan waves. “Come on, boys, Claire.”
“What are we doing?” I frown.
“Looking at this house.”
“What for?”
“Because I want to buy it for us.” He climbs out of the car, and the boys bounce out after him.
“What?” I frown.
He waves me out . . . fucking hell, I don’t have time for this shit. I get out of the car and walk up to him as he talks to the man.