Priya grins. "That's growth."
"Don't start."
"No, seriously," Liv says. "Six months ago, you would've built a spreadsheet of disaster scenarios by now."
I don't deny it. "I have a spreadsheet. I'm just not living in it."
They all laugh. I roll my eyes but I'm smiling too.
Nadia leans back, studies me. "Okay. Real talk. Do you think the project will get approved?"
"I think so. The design is solid. Tom's photography is incredible. We've done everything right. But there's always risk. Castellano's still on the Board. And he's not thrilled with us. This meeting is his last real chance to slow us down."
Priya nods slowly. "The guy who tried to get Tom fired?"
"That's the one."
"Can he block approval?" Liv asks.
"Not single-handedly. But he can create friction. Make it harder." I finish the last of my coffee. "We just have to be better than his objections."
Nadia reaches across the table, squeezes my wrist once. "You will be."
"I hope so."
We sit there for a moment, quiet.
Priya breaks the silence. "So. Two weeks. You can survive two weeks."
"Yeah. I can."
Liv smiles. "And then you get to actually date Tom. Like normal people."
"That's the plan."
Nadia gathers her bag, slides out of the booth. "Good. Because we miss you. And we're ready to have you back."
My throat goes tight. "I miss you guys too."
We exchange quick hugs. I check the time on my phone—7:52.
"I need to go. Site meeting at 8:30."
Priya squeezes my shoulder. "Go. Crush it. We'll be here when you come up for air."
I grab my bag, head for the door.
***
I'm halfway through cross-referencing budget line items when my phone buzzes. "Lunch is here," I say, standing. My knees protest—I've been sitting too long. "Be right back."
Tom doesn't look up from his laptop. His hair's standing up on one side where he's been running his hand through it.
I take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, grab the bags from the delivery guy, and come back up carrying two paper sacks.
When I push through the conference room door, Tom's leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, fingers pressed against his temples.
"Lunch," I say, setting the bags on the table.
