He didn't sleep that night either, though this time the reason had nothing to do with the eleven-o'clock honesty of the last several weeks and everything to do with a very specific, very loud kind of joy he hadn't let himself feel about anything professional in longer than he wanted to examine.
She had done it. He kept returning to that fact, turning it over the way he'd turned over the policy language two weeks earlier, except this time the turning over produced only more of the same uncomplicated pride each pass — she had built something, from nothing, across two continents, against every reasonable obstacle eighteen months could throw at a person, and a roomful of skeptical, risk-averse professionals had looked at it and said yes within the hour.
He allowed himself, lying awake at two
