LOGIN"You," she said, watching my face carefully. "The board wants you to lead the initial expansion strategy across all three regions. Not consult. Not advise from the side. Lead it."I stood there for a moment, the page still in my hand, feeling the particular vertigo of something arriving far bigger than what I'd walked into the room prepared for. "Lead it how, exactly?""Staffing decisions across all three sites. Training standards. Timeline authority. You'd essentially be building the model at scale, with our backing, and reporting directly to the board rather than through an intermediary."I felt the thrill of it first, sharp and immediate, the kind of professional possibility I'd been circling for weeks without quite letting myself name out loud. Right behind it came something heavier, the concrete shape of what saying yes would actually cost, travel that would stretch well beyond this single trip, unpredictable stretches of time that would pull me away from the ordinary rhythm Dami
"Yes," I said, simply, without any need to dress it up further, and felt the truth of it settle comfortably rather than embarrass me."Good answer," Nathan said, entirely unbothered, taking a sip of his coffee like the question had been as ordinary as asking about the weather. "I used to be able to answer that question the same way.""Used to be?""Divorced, remember. I mentioned it at dinner." He said it plainly, no self-pity in it, just the flat honesty of a man who'd made peace with his own history a long time ago. "I treated work like it was always urgent and home like it would wait for me whenever I got around to it. Turns out home stops waiting eventually.""That sounds like a hard lesson.""It was. I built a better programme because of it, oddly enough. I stopped designing systems that required one person to sacrifice everything just to keep them working.""That still doesn't mean every part of the work should be standardized," I said, and he laughed, holding the door to the co
"When I get home," I said again, slower this time, "I want the door barely closed before you have your hands on me.""You're going to make it very difficult for me to function at the airport.""You're the one who asked me to repeat it.""I was aware of the consequences and chose them anyway." His voice had dropped even further, unhurried now in a way that told me he'd stopped fighting the effect entirely. "Tell me what happens after the door.""You first. You started this.""I asked you to repeat something. That's a very different level of commitment.""Coward.""Strategist," he corrected, and I heard the smile in it even without seeing his face. "Fine. After the door, I'm not letting you get further than the hallway before I've said everything I've been rehearsing all week.""You rehearsed this?""I deny nothing and confirm nothing." A pause, quieter now. "I'm going to kiss you like the five days actually happened to me too. Slow, at first. Then not slow at all.""That's an oddly spe
I stared at his message for longer than I meant to, How much? sitting there on the screen like a dare, and felt something reckless stir in me that had nothing to do with good sense.More than I'm willing to type, I sent back, and immediately regretted how much that revealed before I could talk myself out of it.Try anyway.I miss your hands, I typed, slower this time, watching each word appear like I was testing how far I actually wanted to go. And the way you say my name when you're not trying to be charming about it.The three dots appeared and disappeared twice before his reply came through. That's not fair. I'm in a kitchen with bad lighting and a broken dishwasher.You did ask.I did. A pause, longer this time. Can I call you instead?He called before I even answered, and I picked up to find his voice lower than it had been ten minutes ago, rougher at the edges in a way that made my whole body pay attention before he'd said more than my name."Hi," I said, suddenly aware of how t
I called him the moment I got back to my room, still half in the professional energy of the panel and not entirely sure how to fold the next part of the conversation into it. He answered on the second ring, his face filling the screen mid-laugh at something before he'd even said hello."You look pleased with yourself," he said."I am pleased with myself. The panel went well. Better than well, actually." I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my knees up, and told him about the privacy exchange, the backup-contact model, the woman who'd pushed on the resignation question and made me actually think instead of recite. He listened properly, the way he always did, nodding at the right places, asking one good follow-up about staffing costs that I hadn't fully worked through yet."That sounds like a real win," he said, once I'd finished. "You look like someone who just proved something to a room full of skeptics.""I did." I hesitated, the easy part of the conversation running out, the harder
The panel opened with a question that landed harder than I expected, someone from the audience asking flatly how New Ground planned to protect participant privacy if we scaled to triple the number of participants we currently served, given that most large systems eventually traded discretion for efficiency. The moderator turned to me first, and I felt the room's attention settle in a way that had stopped being terrifying somewhere over the last few days."We wouldn't scale the intake process the way most systems do," I said, thinking it through as I spoke rather than reaching for a rehearsed line. "We're building a model where every participant has one designated staff member who has met her personally and remains accountable for how her information moves through the programme.""That's expensive," someone said from the second row, not unkindly, just stating the practical cost of what I'd described."It is. It's also the difference between a programme people trust and one they tolerat







