Ryan woke up at nine.
He usually woke with a reluctant, dragged-out-of-sleep nine that most Sundays produced, but today was a clean, deliberate nine — eyes open, ceiling visible, brain already running.
He lay there for a moment and took stock of things how one does when life has been moving fast enough that you occasionally need to check it hasn't left you behind.
IRS interview in seven days. Paperwork two signatures from done. Rebuild Tech on a twelve-week MVP timeline with a team that had passed a stress test conducted by a woman who Diana had described as one of the sharpest technical advisors she'd worked with.
A hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in an account that had contained two hundred and forty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents not very long ago.
And a date tonight.
He sat up.
