"Yes."
"No flexibility if something goes wrong? Supply chain delays, custom fabrication issues, any of the dozen things that could push the schedule?"
"I've built in contingency," I tell her.
"But December investor tours are non-negotiable. The units need to be ready."
She nods slowly. "That's a lot of pressure."
"It is."
"On both of us, if I take this."
"Yes."
The elevator reaches the ground floor. We step off, and Tom takes our hardhats.
"Thank you for the tour," Winter says to him.
"It's an incredible project."
"Knox has a good eye," Tom says.
"Wait until you see it finished."
If she takes it, I think. Not when. If.
We walk back toward the car. Victor is waiting where we left him, leaning against the hood, straightening when he sees us approaching.
The summer heat feels more intense after being high up where the wind cooled everything. Concrete radiates warmth, the air thick and still at street level.
I open the rear door for Winter. She pauses before getting in, turns to face me.
"This is exceptional," she says.
"The scale, the vision, the location. Everything about this project is exceptional."
"So you understand why I need exceptional design."
"I do."
"And?"
She holds my gaze. "I need to think about it."
There it is. The non-answer I was expecting but hoping wouldn't come. I reach into my jacket pocket, pull out my business card. It's simple—embossed, heavy stock, my direct cell number printed below my name and title.
"My direct line," I say, handing it to her.
"Think about it. Let me know."
Winter takes the card. Our fingers brush—brief contact, barely a second, but I register it. The warmth. The brief electric moment I felt in my office when we shook hands. She pulls back, looks at the card. Runs her thumb over the embossed text.
"I will," she says. "I'll consider all my options."
"Fair enough."
But there's weight to those words. She's considering it. Not refusing outright. Not saying no. That's more than I expected when I walked into this meeting.