When she pulls back, her eyes are bright. “Spreadsheets?”
“Seventeen tabs. Dominic says that’s excessive, but he doesn’t understand the importance of comprehensive planning.”
“Of course he doesn’t.” She’s smiling now—that smile that makes my chest do strange things. “I can’t wait to see them.”
“You’re not supposed to see them. They’re confidential.”
“Logan, you just told your mother you’re going to spend your life with me. I think we’re past confidential.”
She has a point. I’ll need to recalibrate my information security protocols.
“Fine,” I concede. “But only the summary sheet. The detailed analysis is?—”
My computer beeps. We both look at the screen.
SIMULATION COMPLETE. ALL PARAMETERS WITHIN ACCEPTABLE RANGE. RECOMMEND PROCEEDING TO FINAL VALIDATION PHASE.
Audrey squeezes my hand. “Looks like we’re not the only thing that’s working.”
I stare at the green text, letting it sink in. We did it. The security architecture is solid. The edge computing solution is viable. After months of setbacks and near-disasters, we’re actually going to make this work.
“Final validation,” I say. “Then FDA submission.”
“Then we change people’s lives.”
“Assuming nothing breaks between now and then.” The words come out before I can stop them—old habit, bracing for disaster.
“Logan.”
“I know. It’s working. It’s just...” I gesture at the green indicators. “This is simulation data. Controlled conditions. The real test is production—actual patients, actual hospitals, actual load. We won’t know if the architecture holds until it has to.”
“Then we’ll handle it if something breaks.” She says it like it’s simple. Maybe it is.
I look at her—this woman who walked into my life and rewired everything I thought I knew about connection and capability and what I deserved. The woman who saw throughmy awkwardness to something worth keeping. The woman who, against all statistical probability, chose me.
“We already have,” I tell her. “At least mine.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s blushing. “That was cheesy.”
“The data supports it.”
“Your data is biased.”
“All data is biased. The question is whether the bias points toward truth.” I pull her closer. “In this case, it does.”
My phone buzzes again. I glance at the screen.
Dominic:
Your mother just called me seventeen times in a row. I’m guessing you two had that conversation?
I type back.
Me:
It’s handled. Thanks for the assist.
Dominic:
