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.”