Silence fills the line again. My pulse hammers in my throat as I wait.
"If you came to Atlanta," she says finally, "what would happen?"
"I don't know. We'd find out if this is real."
"And if it doesn't work out?"
"Then we'll know we tried. And if it does work out..."
"If it does work out?"
"Then maybe I'll have found something worth leaving the mountain for."
"When?" she asks.
"When what?"
"When would you come to Atlanta?"
My heart starts racing.
"Whenever you want me to. Tomorrow. Next week. Whenever you're ready."
"The hype is pretty significant at this point."
"I'll do my best not to disappoint."
"What if I'm the one who disappoints?"
"Impossible."
"You sound confident for someone basing that on three days of texting and one phone call."
"I'm confident because everything about you has exceeded my expectations. Your humor, your intelligence, your honesty. The way you make me feel like myself despite my public image."
There’s a pause on the line. "What image does the public have of you?"
My jaw tenses. Another near miss about my wealth.
"Just... the image of someone who has everything figured out. You make me feel like it's okay to not have all the answers."
"Nobody has all the answers, Max. We're all making it up as we go."
"Is that what we're doing?"
"I think so. And I think... I think I'd like to make it up in person."
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a terrified yes, but yes."
Relief floods through me. "When?"
"Give me a week to mentally prepare for this level of insanity?"
"One week. I can do one week."
"Max?"
