"What about the cost?" asks the front office guy. "Do you have an estimate?"
"Going forward, the program requires two hours of dedicated studio time per week plus four hours of training time where I can correct posture and be hands-on. Based on the reduction in injury related missed games, you're looking at a return on investment within the first month."
The front office guy frowns. "Is this really necessary? Players can stretch on their own."
The old reflex rises, the urge to soften my stance, to offer compromises I don't mean. I swallow it down and meet his eyes directly.
"They can. But they don't. Not correctly, not consistently, and not with proper form." I pull up a video showing before and after flexibility assessments. "This isn't about addinganother obligation to their schedule. It's about protecting your investment in these athletes. Every game missed to preventable injury costs the organization thousands of dollars and potentially playoff positioning."
Cross nods slowly. "What about players who don't want to participate?"
"It's optional but incentivized. Players who attend consistently get priority PT scheduling and first choice of recovery modalities." I click to my final slide. "This isn't about forcing anyone. It's about creating infrastructure that supports long term athletic performance."
Silence fills the room. My chest tightens, but I don't fill it with nervous chatter or additional justifications. I stand there and let them process, trusting that my work speaks for itself.
"I like it," Beck says finally. "The injury reduction alone makes it worthwhile."
Sam, the head trainer, speaks up. "We've been seeing really positive improvements. This seems like a no-brainer to me."
Cross looks around the table. "Anyone have serious objections?"
The front office guy shrugs. "If the numbers hold up, I'm convinced."
"Then we're approved for full implementation," Cross says. "Congratulations, Scout. You've created something valuable here."
The words land like sunshine after a storm. I thank them professionally, gather my materials, and manage to hold my composure until I'm alone in the elevator. Then I slump against the wall and exhale every ounce of tension I've been carrying.
I did it. I stood in my authority and claimed space for myideas. The program's permanent. The studio's real. My career is actually happening.
When I get back to the condo, Silas is on the couch with his laptop. He looks up when I walk in, and the smile that spreads across his face makes my heart do something stupid.
"How'd it go?"
"They approved it." I drop my bag and practically run to him. "Full implementation. Permanent program. It's official."
He catches me when I launch myself at him, pulling me into his lap. "I knew they would. You were brilliant."
"You didn't even see the presentation."
"Didn't need to. I know you." He kisses me, slow and thorough. "I'm so proud of you, Pretty Girl."
We celebrate with takeout and champagne on the couch. Silas keeps looking at me with this expression I can't quite read. There's something intense there, something that makes butterflies erupt in my stomach.
"What?" I finally ask.
"I've been thinking," he says.
"That's dangerous."
"I know we've only been officially together for a few months. I know you're still recovering from Enzo. But I also know what I want." He takes my hand. "I want you. Forever. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to support your career and have you support mine. I want kids eventually, if you want them. I want everything with you."
“We already talked about this.” I smile and pat his arm. “My answer is the same. Eventually, I do want to be Mrs. Huxley.”
“I like the sound of that.” He hesitates. “Am I pushing too hard again?"
I think about it. Really think about it. A year ago, the idea of remarrying would have sent me into a panic spiral.Marriage meant losing myself, meant becoming small and accommodating and disappearing into someone else's needs.
But with Silas, it doesn't feel like that. He's seen me at my worst and stayed. He's supported my career without trying to control it. He's done the work in therapy, been honest even when it's hard, shown up for me consistently without expecting me to shrink.
