That night I barely slept, because pride and fear mixed inside me in equal measure while I imagined either impressing the executives in Minneapolis or embarrassing myself in front of the one person whose respect mattered most.
The next evening we met at Logan Airport while a storm rolled across the coast, and our flight faced repeated delays as rain struck the windows and thunder shook the terminal.
Vanessa worked quietly on her tablet while I reviewed spreadsheets for the tenth time, and by the time we finally landed in Minneapolis it was after one in the morning with wind whipping across the runway.
We stepped into a taxi and tried to book hotel rooms through our phones, yet every nearby property showed no availability due to a medical convention in the city.
“Call the Meridian Suites,” Vanessa said calmly.
I called and waited through hold music before a clerk finally answered and said, “We have one room left with a king bed.”
I froze and looked at Vanessa, who held out her hand and said, “Reserve it immediately.”
The hotel lobby glowed under flickering lights as we checked in, and when we entered the room I saw a single large bed and one narrow armchair in the corner with no couch in sight.
“I can sleep in the chair,” I said quickly, hoping to avoid awkwardness.
Vanessa looked at the chair and then at me before replying, “That is not a bed and you will regret it tomorrow during negotiations.”
“I will manage,” I insisted.
She studied me briefly and said, “We are adults, Mason, and the bed is large enough for both of us to remain on separate sides without complication.”
I hesitated, then changed into sweatpants and lay stiffly at the edge of the mattress while the storm raged outside and my heartbeat refused to settle.
After several minutes she spoke softly into the darkness and asked, “Do you know why I chose you for this trip?”
I turned slightly and said, “I assumed it was because of the financial models.”
“That is part of it,” she replied, “but you treat me like a person rather than a title, and that matters more than you realize.”
Her words lingered between us as the rain softened, and I admitted, “I never saw you as untouchable, because you are brilliant and driven but still human.”
She gave a quiet laugh and said, “You would be surprised how rare that perspective is.”