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“Exactly, but when the time comes, do not tell her you have a surprise for her. Mainly because it’s weird; mostly because she will think you got her a puppy and I am not dealing with puppy-less Josie. That might be the only time she says no.”

“The no would be a reaction to it not being a puppy, though,” he argues, “not the proposal.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, bud.”

He groans, standing from his chair. “Promise me you’re not doing anything to encourage her. We cannot get a dog right now.”

“I’m doing nothing to encourage her,” I swear, holding out my fist. “Thanks for the talk, Bryce.”

He raises an eyebrow, but bumps his fist against mine. “Anytime, Mia. And remember—”

“No dog!” I call as he leaves my office.

They’re going to have a dog by Halloween, I just know it.

"I can't believe you're really doing this." Mel is staring down the paperwork I laid in front of her with wide-eyed bemusement. "Operation Fly is your baby."

I shrug, completely content with my decision, but understanding why she might have some doubts. "I'm still the chairman of the board. I'm just not the president anymore. You are."

"I haven't signed the paperwork yet, Ronan."

I place a pen on top of the stack. "No, but you will. And I know that because you love this place as much as I do. Besides, I’ve seen all the work you’ve put into the mission of Operation Fly and in diversifying the sport as a whole. There was never any question about who I wanted to take my place."

Even while she was competing, she made a point of challenging the racial disparities that continue to exist within the sport. Often pointing out that she was only one of four Black people to ever receive a full ride swimming scholarship from her college, and the only woman. Whenever she was in a new city, she would try to do a clinic specifically targeted for Black children who didn’t have access to proper swimming lessons, stressing the importance of water safetyand the economic challenges that kept these fundamental skills out of reach from marginalized communities.

Although she was a couple years older than me, I’d followed her career closely. The economic divide was evident from the day I started swimming, and the racial divide only became more obvious the longer I was active. Mel is part of the reason I decided to start Operation Fy, her determination to not just talk about change, but make it happen, inspired the hell out of me. I had money from my grandparents that I had done nothing to earn, and I wanted to be part of the change. I just knew I couldn’t do it alone.

"And you knew I'd say yes?"

I shrug. "I hoped you would, but that's why I didn't tell anyone back home what the meetings were about; just in case you wanted me to stay on for a little longer while you got used to the position."

Mel is grinning, fiddling with the pen. "You called Columbia home. I don't think I've ever heard you say that word."

I hadn't meant to use it, either. It still scares the shit out of me. "Shut up," I grumble, "and sign the damn papers, Mel."

Still smiling, she pulls the stack closer and uncaps the pen. I watch as she flips through the papers, signing where she needs to. In a few quick flicks of the pen, it's done. I'm no longer doing the day-to-day running of Operation Fly. The business I built from the ground up, the thing that had a real role in bringing me back to life. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as I expected it to. Whether it's because I'm handing it over to someone I trust completely, or because I have a future I want to see through, I don't know.

“Congratulations,” I offer, shaking her hand. “You’re officially the boss.”

“Of everyone else,” she corrects, handing over my copy for safekeeping and tucking her own into her backpack. “Technically, you’re the president of the board, so you’re still my boss.”

“Funny how that works, right?” I grin cheekily at her. “I’ll still be hovering, making sure you don’t get into trouble.”

“What kind of trouble could I possibly get into?”

“I don’t want to find out. Please don’t make me find out.”

With a laugh, she pulls her bag onto her shoulder and follows me out of the conference room. Both of us greet several people as we walk back to my office. Mel’s office is right next to it. This office is bigger than the one at Adair, but there’s a sterility to it that I’ll never have there. Still, there are some things I want to pick up to take back with me. We enter the mostly glass room, Mel immediately collapsing on the comfortable chair I have in the corner.

“Thanks for agreeing not to give me your office.” She kicks her feet up onto the small table. I roll my eyes and ignore her. “I did not want to move all my shit.”

“Your office is literally next door; it wouldn’t have been that hard. But no problem. I’ll still need it when I come back to visit anyway.”

“Are you selling your condo here?”

“I talked to my realtor yesterday, but nothing is concrete about it,” I say, picking up a framed picture of the whole crew from after I made my final Olympics, and Bryce and Carter made their first in 2016. Mia and I were practically on top of each other, Bryce and Josie trying to avoid looking at each other, and Carter was all by himself. Poor guy. The fact that this was the photo I chose to put on my desk should have clued me in faster. “I want to talk to Mia about it.”

“Right, Mia!” Mel said her name in a sing-songy way that had me groaning. “Are you blushing, O’Brien?”