The email sits open for two days.
Not because I'm unsure.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBXFqX8t2TH
But because I know exactly what it means to say yes.
It means longer hours. Bigger decisions. And being side by side with Ryan Santillan—not just under him in the org chart, but as his equal.
I reply with one line.
"I'd be honored to accept the VP role."
And I hit send without a single flinch.
Ryan finds me on the rooftop balcony later that evening.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFJXLTORDUx
No agenda. No tension. Just that same quiet between us—the kind that feels more like a held breath than silence.
He's holding two glasses. Wine. Deep red. Expensive-looking.
"No boardroom," he says. "No suits. Just... congratulations."
I raise an eyebrow. "You don't do congratulations."
He smirks. "For most people? No. But this isn't for most people."
He hands me a glass, and for a second, we don't speak. Just sip. Just watch the city lights flicker beneath us.
Then he says—gently:
"I'm proud of you."
The words knock the breath out of me.
"You don't have to say that."
"I know," he replies. "But I wanted to."
And then—
"Do you know what it was like, watching you walk into that room like you belonged there more than anyone else? Like it was always yours?"
I swallow hard. "It didn't feel that way when I started."
"I know. I remember." He pauses. "But it does now."
The wind brushes past us. My heart's beating faster than I want to admit.
"I'm not used to having things," I whisper. "Not jobs like this. Not... people who see me."
He turns to face me fully.
"Then get used to it."
I laugh, nervous and shaky. "You always say things like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're not afraid of being close."
He steps forward, just enough that I feel the heat between us.
"I'm not."
And then, softer:
"But I won't push you either. I'm just... here."
I nod. Because I don't know what else to do.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUdWIxKhnBS
Because I feel that.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD9Rc70Jsjj
Because his presence doesn't suffocate—it steadies.
We clink our glasses.
"To the future," he says.
And I whisper back, "To finally choosing it."
33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7XVf3X8JXm
