The Fear of Letting Go (8 page)

“You don't like to talk about it much, do you?”

“Very observant,” I say, a hint of sarcasm in my tone. I know it's a sore spot with my friends, but they know better than to push the issue. Most of the time.

“I think about my future a lot, too,” he says. He must have decided now wasn't a good time to push me, either, and I'm glad he didn't ask more about my past.

“What's there to think about?” I ask. “I don't want to be rude, but isn't your future all cinched up? It seems obvious your father is grooming you to take over the company someday. I'm surprised there's not already an arranged marriage to go along with it.”

He laughs. “My relationship with Leigh Anne was the closest thing to it,” he says. “Everyone, including my parents—okay, especially my parents—wanted us to get married someday.”

“I bet her parents wanted it even more,” I say, thinking about the ridiculous things Leigh Anne's mom has said to her in the past. That woman has the emotional intelligence of a dollar bill.

“You're probably right,” he says. “I screwed it up big time, though.”

“Why did you cheat?” I ask, my heart beating a little faster than I want it to. We're on shaky ground here, talking about past relationships.

“I don't know,” he says. He rests his arms on the railing and stares out, his eyes dark. “I was a stupid kid who had no idea what real consequences were. My parents always jumped in to clean up any mess I made, so I never thought about how being with Bailey might really hurt Leigh Anne. Bailey kept coming on to me and Leigh Anne and I were arguing a lot about school. She wanted to go to Boston, but I wanted her to stay in Fairhope. I think part of me knew that if she left, things were over between us, anyway. So one night, Bailey and I were the last two on the yacht after a big party, and it just sort of happened. I know it makes me sound like an asshole, but I was just having fun. Things with Leigh Anne had gotten complicated and there were all these expectations for us. But with Bailey, it was simple. At least at first.”

“We all make dumb mistakes when we're teenagers,” I say. God knows I made a lot of them. Worse ones than cheating, that's for sure.

Silence stretches out between us, and I listen to the waves crashing against the shore below. The tide is coming in, and in the distance, the white peaks of the larger waves roll forward and disappear.

“You were right, though,” he says after a while.

“About what?”

“About my future being all cinched up,” he says. He finishes his beer and sets the bottle down behind him. As he moves, his leg brushes against mine and he leaves it there, his warmth pressing against me. “My parents have had it all figured out since I was a little boy. I was always supposed to go to school here in Fairhope so I could do an apprenticeship at the company, double-major in business and economics, and take over some of the smaller duties after graduation. We haven't talked about dates, but when he's satisfied I have a good grasp on how things are run, Dad will retire and leave it all to me. I'm supposed to settle down here in Fairhope with my own house here in town, pick a wife and have a couple of kids just like they did. Mom and Dad will keep their fingers in every aspect of the business, and I'll be their dutiful little puppet, playing out their game exactly as I've been programmed.”

“You don't sound too happy about that.”

“How could I possibly complain about an empire being handed to me? I don't even have to earn it. I just have to say yes, and it's mine,” he says. “I'd be an idiot to walk away from that life, right?”

“I can't even begin to answer that question for you.” I'd never once thought about whether Preston wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. “I guess I just assumed it was what you wanted.”

“Everyone does,” he says. “No one ever thinks to ask me if it's what I want, because of course it's what I want. Who wouldn't want a multi-billion dollar corporation handed to them?”

“Not me,” I say with a laugh. I set my empty beer beside his. “I can't even wrap my head around the concept of a billion anything, and I certainly wouldn't want the responsibility that comes with it.”

“Some days I feel exactly the same way,” he says. “I look at Penny and Mason and see how happy they are now, and I wonder if I would be happier if I just walked away from it all. Built a simpler life without the headaches and pressure.”

“Trust me, being poor is no picnic,” I say. “I know Penny and Mason have made a lot of changes, but that doesn't mean there are no more headaches just because they stopped driving fancy cars. If you think for one minute having less money in your bank account—or no money for that matter—makes life easier, you're even more clueless than I thought you were. I'm not trying to dismiss what you're going through, but until you've been in a position where you have no idea if you're still going to have a place to live next week, you have no idea what it's like to be without money.”

“Is that how you grew up?”

I shrug, a knot in my stomach tightening. I don't want to talk about how I grew up. “Let's just say there have been times in my life where I had to go a few days without food,” I say.

“I can't even imagine that,” he says softly.

“Then we're even,” I say. “Because I can't imagine having a billion dollars and owning five different cars.”

He laughs. “I only have two cars.”

“Oh, only two?” I say. I cut my eyes toward him and nudge him with my elbow. “Listen, if you don't want to take over your father's business, then don't.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Who says?” I turn toward him. “Life is all about choices. We go left or we go right, simple as that.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he says. “First of all, my father would kill me. Or keel over from a broken heart.”

He sounds so sad, I want to touch him. Let him know that I understand more than he thinks. But I'm scared, and unlike him, not up for facing my fears tonight.

“I learned the hard way that we can't hold ourselves responsible for our parents' happiness. You have to live your life and be true to yourself,” I say, knowing it really isn't that simple for a guy like him. He can't just pack up and leave Fairhope. People would come looking for him. No one gave a shit where I went, so long as I was gone.

Part of me wants to tell him this, but a bigger part of me hopes he never finds out about my past, or where I came from. It's easier to keep the conversation on Preston and his choices than to start thinking about mine.

“Here we are, all alone where no one in the world can hear us. Tell me what you really want, Preston Wright, son of a billionaire. Let's just pretend for a few minutes that there are no consequences to your actions. It's just you and the universe and anything you want is right there for the taking. What would you do with your future? What's your ideal path?”

He rests his chin against the metal railing and stares out at the waves for a long moment. “I don't know,” he says finally.

“You mean to tell me you spend all this so-called time thinking about your future, and yet you have no idea what you would do if you weren't held down by your parents' expectations?”

He pulls back. “I know it sounds stupid, but the truth is that I never get past the expectations part of it,” he says, as if realizing it for the first time. “I try to think about my future, and the only thing I can see is this big wall in front of me, like I have no options. No freedom.”

“Do you realize the irony of that?” I ask with a laugh. “You have all the money in the world. You could decide to do or be anything you wanted, and every door would just open right up to a guy like you. How is it possible you feel like a slave in that scenario?”

He shakes his head and looks over at me. “I never thought of it like that,” he says. “I guess that's why I never talk about it to anyone. It's insane to be so privileged and feel so limited. I can't even say how I feel without knowing how awful and stupid it must sound to anyone listening. I sound like a spoiled brat.”

“Yes, you do,” I say.

His eyes widen and I shrug.

“The truth hurts,” I say. “But you need to get your head out of your ass. You sound like you're thinking poor me, my parents care about my future so much they've built an empire around it, ready to hand it to me when I'm ready. Poor you? You have everything everyone in this world wants. You have the entire universe at your fingertips, and all you can think about is how tough it is to have all this pressure and all these expectations. Personally, I think it's bullshit.”

I pull my legs back through the railing and sit criss-crossed, facing him. I want him to hear what I'm saying and understand that I am not trying to make him feel worse. I'm trying to make him see what he has.

“What's the worst thing that could happen if you didn't go to work for your dad?”

“He'd kill me,” he says.

“You said that already, but think about it honestly. If he didn't kill Penny for running off and getting knocked up by the son of the guy who stole millions from his company, he's not going to actually kill you.”

“Point taken,” he says with a laugh. He turns his body toward me now, and we're sitting face-to-face on the platform.

“It goes without saying he'd be disappointed. It might take him years to forgive you, but that's his problem,” I say. “Would he disown you? Throw you out on the streets with no money and no resources?”

Preston takes a deep breath. “No,” he says. “He would probably threaten it, but I doubt he'd follow through with it. Not after he realized I was serious.”

“Okay, so this hypothetical future Preston has money and resources galore,” I say. “Disappointed parents, yes, but they'll get over it in time. After a few months of trouble and heartache, he has freedom. Just like that. What does he do with it?”

He rubs his hand across his cheek, his eyes bright. A smile teases the corners of his mouth. “I can't even imagine what I'd do,” he says. “I've always wanted to travel. And I don't mean my parents' version of traveling, where it's meeting after meeting and you only stay at five-star luxury resorts that you never even get to enjoy. I've always wanted to go to more exotic, spiritual places, like Tibet or the Amazon rain forests, with nothing but a backpack. No tour guides or concierge service. I would love to explore the kinds of things you don't see as a typical tourist.”

My heart skips a beat. “That's one of my biggest dreams,” I say, almost breathless. “I've never even been out of Georgia, if you can believe that?”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” I say. “Not even one foot out of this great state my entire life. But I have always dreamed of being able to travel, just like you're saying. Take a backpack and go exploring places off the beaten path. There are ancient Mayan ruins in Mexico, deep in the jungle, that I would kill to visit someday. It's never really seemed possible, though.”

He reaches over and takes my hand in his. “Anything's possible right now,” he says. “What about you? What's in store for future Jenna, besides traveling the world?”

A flutter goes through my stomach as I look up at him. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm wondering if there really is something more out there for me. Something bigger than what I've ever dared to hope for.

“Graduation's coming up in May,” I say. “After that, I don't know. I've put in some applications here and there, but I don't have my heart set on anything yet. That sounds incredibly dull, doesn't it? Graduate and get a job. Boring and not at all adventurous, but unlike you, I don't have a mountain of money sitting there to pay my bills when I get out of school.”

“Okay, so let's pretend for a minute that money's no object,” he says, turning my game around on me. “What would you do if you didn't have to be practical?”

I look away. “It's not as fun for me to pretend and dream, because there's no safety net keeping me from hitting rock bottom,” I say. “I have no choice but to be practical.”

“That's not true,” he says. “People take risks every day. They follow their hearts and take chances, and don't let anything stand in their way. I had to say what I would do if I faced my fear of disappointing my parents. Now, you have to say what you would do if you faced your fear of taking a risk after graduation.”

I take a deep breath. “There is one thing,” I say. I pull my hand away from his and look back out over the ocean. “I've never told anyone this before, so you have to promise you won't laugh at me.”

“I swear,” he says.

“I would love to be an artist,” I say.

He turns his head in surprise. “What kind of art? Like paintings and stuff?”

“No,” I say, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Nothing that normal.”

“What?” he asks again. “I want to know.”

“You know those little animals I'm always making with spare napkins and beer labels and stuff?”

He nods. “Origami?”

“Yes, but so much more than just that,” I say. “I'm into all kinds of paper art. Quilling and paper sculptures. I even make my own paper.”

He doesn't say anything at first, and when I glance over at him, his mouth is slightly open and he's staring at me.

“I know it's weird, but I got into it in high school when I was going through some rough times,” I say. “It sets me at peace. Helps me find focus. If I could do anything I wanted and not have to worry about money, I would just create all day long. Is that crazy?”

“It's wonderfully surprising,” he says. “I had no idea.”

I shrug. “It's what I end up doing with most of my free time.”

“Can I see some?” he asks.

My heart warms. I expected him to dismiss it as something ridiculous or silly, but the fact that he's interested enough to want to see some of my art touches me. “Maybe someday,” I say. “It's just a silly dream, anyway.”

“Our deepest hopes and dreams are never silly,” he says, his voice low. “Want to know a secret?”

I give him a sideways look. “Okay.”

“I have one of your little frogs,” he says with a laugh. “I took it from the bar the other night.”

My mouth opens and I turn to face him. “Are you serious?”

He's blushing like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “It's sitting on the side table in my apartment. I don't even know why I took it. You left and I was standing there, trying to decide whether to finish my drink or head home, and I picked it up. I couldn't figure out how in the world you made something so elaborate and perfect with the label off a beer bottle. I just couldn't stand the thought of someone throwing it away.”