Which meant they knew when something had shifted.
Back at the office, Jim caught me before I reached my desk.
“Quick word.”
The door shut.
Recruiting. Restructuring. Strategic realignment.
The words slid over me, dulling the glow from lunch.
Rick. Tracy. People who’d given me chances once.
When the door closed behind Jim, Beth knocked softly and peeked in.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Just… thinking.”
She hesitated. “Whoever she is… we all saw her. And we’re happy for you.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
After she left, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.
Last night had felt like a beginning.
Today reminded me that beginnings never happen in isolation.
They ripple.
And somewhere between that bar, that boat, and this office —
I knew one thing for sure.
Whatever I’d stepped into last night?
It wasn’t small.
Back at the office, the energy hadn’t quite settled after lunch. People were half-working, half-planning. Tabs open that had nothing to do with actual deliverables. The quiet hum of anticipation buzzing under everything.
I sat at my desk, pretending to review a deck I already knew by heart, my mind two steps ahead.
Same bar.
Same time.
The thought landed warm in my chest.
Everyone was going. Dan had already claimed he’d “accidentally” show up early. Chris said something about bringing a friend. Beth had mentioned Sean might meet her after his shift — her tone casual, like she didn’t want it to matter.
Tony would be there.
Tony always was.
He didn’t work with us — different world entirely. Old money, real estate, investment firms with names that sounded like law offices. Restaurants, properties, deals that happened over scotch instead of spreadsheets. But he’d never been weird about it. Never needed to prove anything.
He was my best friend because he knew who I’d been before Boston polished the edges off me.
